Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

Leonie. re wea gny me ca &No Lge Pak be poor. He has his art. He ean win his way es . to fame and fortune.” “Ah, bah! when both our heads are gray! No, no, ithel, that will never do! If he inherits a forttine, I wiil be his ek if he does not, then I must marry Mr. Rutherford.. _ That is why I have remained in New York. I am réady for either fate. I must make my own fortune. -_My wnele De _. Montreuil cares very little for me—cares less than ever since he has found out he has a daughter alive.” . “A daughter! Is it possible?” ) “Romantic, isn’t it? but quite true, and here in America _ somewhere. When quite a young man, and foolish, as young - mnen are apt to be, he fell in love, after the most approved fashion, married and ran away with a pretty, penniless es Yankee bride. . He was Monsieur Raoul, a teacher of- music, at that time, with very little hope that the. ie family inheritance would ever be restored to him. But it was, and with the rise of Louis Napoleon, he arose, too. He left his wife, and went back to France, and . once there—who knows how it was?—he never returned to - her. But, when he came here with me this summer he sought e es out her friends, found she was dead, but had left a daughter. That daughter the indignant. friends refused to restore to - him—not in the least dazzled by his. wealth and his title. . ed And, as he could not remain to enforce his rights, he has re- ¢ turned to France without her. He told me the whole story— less the names of the parties, and ever since I have felt my position as his future heiress of the most doubtful. He will return and find his daughter, | know; and where, then, is poor Leonie? No, Ethel, I should like to please you, to err Alwyn, to please myself ; but I cannot marry a strug- is a _ gling artist! His fate hangs on his uncle’s will, and that-1s 3 __ speedily to be decided now. He is back in the city—Alwyn. fee a had a note from him to-day, and expect to meet him at »F a _ As soon as the will is read I shall know, and then——” BRASS am a a blooded little wretch, am I not, my dear, _ the ball. The uncle is very ill. He goes South to-morrow. Asse paused, rose up, shook out her flashing skirts and es - enthusiastic . Ethel? I don’t deny it. Mr. Bartram, after the - a _ fashiomw of lovers and artists, adores me as an angeh of light es _ how, if i fail him, I will sink to the lowest depths of in- He -famy i in his estimation. And yet, I am neither so good nor ti so bad as he makes me out. I am simply true to the teach: gi: ings of my life—to the doctrine of society. All the nicest &B irls marry for money nowadays. They leave home on the Ss 3a. LT the mSe Oh, Devsicns — co Ir have been making, “el OF Oa 4 af A iB arinsiple as their housemaids leave theirs—to better — (E(0) ¥ ®y ~ at =f : wu p é . * ~ Py ; * GR SLA | . comicbooks: e--" ) * Swe ts F. " a A F\ ‘a a he ee Ba ae St ae se gtd, Dor hep, ee yar ee Fn oy it ; oi0