Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 214: what you’re looking at

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

“IT CANNOT BE YOUR JUDGE,” 205 ‘‘Miss Cameron,’’ he said, stopping before her, ‘‘where did you learn this story?”’ She threw her head back with a gesture of despair. ‘From the best of sources; it was my own sister.”’ ‘‘And so, with no more certainty—no real reason, in fact, you prepared this frightful retaliation——’’ uttered Dick, with a shudder. ‘‘Hear my story to the end,’’ she rejoined, sinking wear- ily into a seat; ‘‘let me finishit as Ibegan. The family the woman entered as companion soon went abroad, which suited her perfectly as she knew that her sister was some- where in Europe, and she might therefore run across her. But months passed with no result. Hours at a time she wandered in vain in the streets of all the large cities, hop- ing against hope. At last, one evening, she saw her in the principal role of a comic opera, which all gay Paris had applauded—saw her in a costume which just escaped being indecent, singing resque songs in an inimitable fashion of her own which made her sister’s blood run cold though it caused even the most blase of the audience to roar with laughter. What did these people know of her history, or knowing, what could they be expected to care? The world must be amused at any cost, and it turns its head away rather than catch a glimpse behind the scenes. It infinite- ly prefers the mask to the face, which is but natural, as it has tears enough of its own with which to occupy itself. Well, she sat through as much of the performance as she could endure, and then blessed oblivion relieved her. When she came to again, she was in the carriage. ‘‘fTer search for her sister had been rewarded, but how cruelly! For some reason, even in her most despairing hours she had never connected her in her mind with the GOmMmIGchbooks (CO) im