Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 134: what you’re looking at

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

net aes ia hah er studies, her music, ne dearly as she - loved to be near him she yet shrank from the gaze of those | . omental dark eyes.- — | : Did he not know her bitiek? Must he not in his inmost - heart despise her for her folly? And Alwyn Bartram smoked and painted, and the dark gravity of his face never wore away, and the smiles that answered Helen’s were cold and flitting as starlight on snow. “Alwyn,” she-said, tenderly, one evening, “what joc it all mean? Will you not tell the friend, who loves you almost as a mother might love, this great trouble of your life? It is not the loss of John Wylder’s wealth—I know that.” It had grown too dark to paint. They sat alone together in the: December darkness, only the flickering light of the _ fading fire lighting the room. The young man’s face, in the -Juminous dusk, looked cold and fixed as stone. She laid her. ~ hand upon his, and bent toward him. “Alwyn, my boy, tell Helen what it is. Who knows? she may be able to help you.” : _. “No one can help me, and I need no help,” he answered, in a cold, measured voice. “I have been a fool, and have - met a fool’s punishment—that is all. I richly deserve what I have suffered—what I suffer still. I have been the most : egregious idiot, Helen Mallory, that ever laid life, and heart, ‘< ‘and soul at a woman’s feet, to be trampled on at her pleas- ure: ee “A woman!’ Then I was right—it is not the loss of your - inheritance, after all?” ; — “My inheritance ? no—and yet, yes, for the nl # it has - lost me all. It is an old story, Helen, and not worth repeat- _ing—the old story of, Delilah over again. I trusted, and ave been betrayed; and when a man has played the fool as ne as I have, he cannot become wise all in a moment. We'll not-talk of it; deeper wounds than mine have been cauterized, Be cad T richly deserved it all.” | bs Helen loeked at him wistfully. § “My poor boy! if I could only console you! Oh, Alwyn, = at, you had only turned to the girl who loved you, not to the — girl you love!” | . “TE love no one!” he answered, ci ailgne no one! But I = understand. Who is mad enough, blind enough, to love me! “Alwyn, do you really need to ask that question ?” _ There was silence. The winter twilight deepened and deep- fe ened she could hardly see his face now. © rou mean stella. But you are mistaken ; she is only-a child, Tae Bs bs think I understand you,” he said, slowly; “I suppose - = an for x me as ae does for Edgar Peeper one or