The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 66: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. 57 revealed to its astonished owner. Amy, as we before stated, at the conclusion of her song burst into tears; she had turned towards the piano, at the departure of her brother, to hide her sorrow; there was no affec- tation in the act—it was the sensitiveness of [wounded feelings, the sacredness of grief, which, like solitary sanctity, gives vent to its yearnings alone. She had not remained long in the position we have described, before she felt an arm stealing gently and timidly round her waist. Her very heart trembled, for she knew it could be no other arm than Henry Beacham’s; in childhood it had often been there; yet never had the simple act produced such an emotion before. How truly has it been observed, that when two beings love there is something electrical in the contact. | “Amy,” he whispered, “ you must not hide your tears from me, I have too often shared your smiles not to claim as aright to partake your sorrow. Richard may recover.” | The poor girl shook her head, and her tears flowed the faster. ** Reflect,” added the young man, “ the excitement caused by your grief cannot fail to produce an unfavour- able influence upon him. Till this night he was full of hope. Why should you not share it?” ** Because,” sighed Amy, “I have watched his fading cheek day after day—the increased glassy brightness of his eye, his hollow cough, and attenuated form. I COniiclooecl SS (SO