Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 229: what you’re looking at

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

4 *) me « fo * a ‘ 5 oe 5 Ga "4 224 “Love is His Gon Avenger, J te ‘a oy a wy I only met her, you know, two years ago, ave” I eh 7 _ Paris. We have been all together since. But, ciel! how I — chatter, and here the opera ends, and we are due at Madame — Campan’s ball. You will come to see us, will you not? Ah1 - don’t look so grim, Alwyn. Don’t say no,” with a tender — glance. “Remember what old friends we aré..I have a — thousand things to say to you. You must come! Estelle 4 dearest, indorse my invitation, will you? Monsieur gazes at | you imploringly.’ Poh De Montreuil looked up with that rare, bright smile of hers. ' ! “We will be very happy—papa and I—to welcome Mr. Bart- 4 a ram, or any friend of yours, Leonie. Papa, is it not time — a to go? 2 She spoke English perfectly, withott the slightest ntenl accent, in a voice that somehow suited her face—sweet and ~ silvery. Then the party arose, the count drawing his daugh- a ter’s arm through his own, Leonie clinging to her old lover, a and descended to the carriage. : a As it flashed away, he caught a parting ees of ‘he two. women—Leonie, dark, sparkling, smiling—mademoiselle, a pale, quiet, a little grave. But it was that pale, earnest face — that haunted his dreams that Pedi g 5 was s forgotten. ae f “FOR, SOON OR LATE, LOVE IS HIS OWN AVENGER.” Bu 4 “Will he speak to- night? Will he ever speak, iL wonder? Has the old love all died out, now that I} love him a thousand- — fold more than ever? And he knows it, too—he must know © it. He must see it, if he is not blind. Ten years ago when — I refused him, earth held nothing half so dear as. Leonie. a To-day, when Leonie would give the world for him, he turns: yl cold and hard as iron. And yet—and yet, what does it all — mean? Day after day he is here, for the past month; he sits _ by my side, he turns my music, he haunts us rane ak and still—he will not speak. Can it be that, like all on rest, my tall, cold-hearted, pale-faced nonette of a cousin has | bewitched him with her yellow eyes and grand, uplifted ways 7 : He sits by my side, but he looks at her; he forgets to answer — me for listening when she speaks; he talks, but it is to ask — concerning her. Is it Leonie Rutherford or Estelle De Mon) trenil that Alwyn Bartram loves ?’” = Pacing np and down the long, elegant. drawin} g-room 0: a her uncle’s handsome house—looking brilliant. and herself in a shimmering wares 3 of Ricom