Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 233: what you’re looking at

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

af : ha Mo) f it; “ ¢ + ie - , % f f r t vf . yt { aul r TAs al! a * \ ", ‘4, . ‘ 1 ‘ hear you! You are Shenton ahaa iron—a bltere 6 d cynic than Diogenes in his tub?” ~~: a ihe oo ) Again Mlle. De Montreuil. smiled atngiaae’ PN est i aaa “How delightful to find Madame Rutherford a dus 3 lar- acter of a censor! One would hardly expect it, either. Is _ your story finished, petite? I am going to the piano ong eG “Almost. Alwyn Bartram left New York, after | hunting © high and low, and spending oceans of money, and I never set eyes on him since, until that night, a month ago, at the opera. Xs He is the most altered of mankind—so stern, so gloomy, so : taciturn. And he used to be fascinating! I could never — have believed the loss of a wife he did not love could. chs ange him go,” ae eg “Blessings brighten as they take their fight! perhaps, he learned to love her.” Signe ee: “Ah, bah! sentimental nonsense! No; a was ee e that — prompted the search—nothing more. He never loved her— 4 he never could love her. There was nothing attractive or lovable about her. <A _ plain, pale, awkward noaney girl! | And then, I was there!” Boe ea Se “And he loved you, and does still, sans doiste.*? Very tru Leonie; and yet, I don’t envy you. Marry Mr. Bartram if — you can; but if the ghost of his dead wife does not rise e- fore you at the altar, then——” een eae oo an She stopped. abruptly, with a Taugh at. Leonie’ Ss ory, ‘scandalized face, and arose. Fa ag have the stroneest internal conviction you will: ‘never write — yourself Mrs. Bartram.” eT Race we oe pS She swept across the room, heedless a tae indig n an mo retort. “Then you mean to marry him yourself, perhap —and sat down to the piano. Ciba aN She was a brilliant performer, ‘and’ the coweeae en v superb; but this evening her fingers wandered plaintively ov | the keys—so softly that the beating of the wintry pie faster as plainly audible without. / | Caen Te ef Old memories seemed stirring within. hie. ‘the | peautif ful face looked strangely sad, the tender eyes strangely dreamy. Was she thinking of days—this proud papas a proud race—very sweet, and gone forever? eee ie Ct fi All at once she broke into a song—an ‘old, ol ld simplest any one had ever heard the: accomplished Mlle. ent eng: ‘ye i punk ee aes An i ay, ae a o ’ (e aa) 7 ( ; | \ by Very ' A nC OR Bs