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Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 9 by Samuel Richardson
page 107 of 379 (28%)
But when the corpse was carried into the lesser parlour, adjoining to the
hall, which she used to call her parlour, and put upon a table in the
midst of the room, and the father and mother, the two uncles, her aunt
Hervey, and her sister, came in, joining her brother and me, with
trembling feet, and eager woe, the scene was still more affecting. Their
sorrow was heightened, no doubt, by the remembrance of their unforgiving
severity: and now seeing before them the receptacle that contained the
glory of their family, who so lately was driven thence by their
indiscreet violence; never, never more to be restored to the! no wonder
that their grief was more than common grief.

They would have withheld the mother, it seems, from coming in. But when
they could not, though undetermined before, they all bore her company,
led on by an impulse they could not resist. The poor lady but just cast
her eye upon the coffin, and then snatched it away, retiring with
passionate grief towards the window; yet, addressing herself, with
clasped hands, as if to her beloved daughter: O my Child, my Child! cried
she; thou pride of my hope! Why was I not permitted to speak pardon and
peace to thee!--O forgive thy cruel mother!

Her son (his heart then softened, as his eyes showed,) besought her to
withdraw: and her woman looking in at that moment, he called her to
assist him in conducting her lady into the middle parlour: and then
returning, met his father going out of the door, who also had but just
cast his eye on the coffin, and yielded to my entreaties to withdraw.
His grief was too deep for utterance, till he saw his son coming in; and
then, fetching a heavy groan, Never, said he, was sorrow like my sorrow!
--O Son! Son!--in a reproaching accent, his face turned from him.

I attended him through the middle parlour, endeavouring to console him.
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