Mrs. Hale could not stop her tears; they came hysterically; and, in truth, she made no effort to control them, but rather called up all the pictures of the happy past, and the probable future--painting the scene when she should lie a corpse, with the son she had longed to see in life weeping over her, and she unconscious of his presence--till she was melted by self-pity into a state of sobbing and exhaustion that made Margaret's heart ache. 
In truth, Mrs. Hale made no effort to control her tears, but rather called up all the pictures of the happy past, and the sad future - when she might lie a corpse, with her son weeping over her - till she was melted by self-pity into a state of sobbing exhaustion. 