Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 249: what you’re looking at

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

244 The Past Redeemed. It would have been easier for him to have led a bine: hope, amid the deadly belching of cannon, than to stand face to face once more with his unloved, his much-wronged wife. ~ He made his way up the dreary staircase, dark already, ~ along the dreary passages, and stopped at the room a little | slip-shod girl (his cicerone) pointed out. “The lady lives here,” she said. "Knock loud, for mother ) says she’s sick, and may be she’s asleep.” | - He stood a moment after the slip-shod fairy had bounded ~ away, then lifted his hand, and knocked heavily. ie a An instant, and the door was opened by a poorly-dressed ~ woman with a baby in her arms. “Mrs. Bartram lives here?” he said, slowly. “Yes, sir,’ the woman answered, “she’s here. Will you walk in’ ¢ he’s poorly, and she’s lying down, but she’s awake.” oe He followed her i in, his heart beating hike a muffled drum. : The twilight filled the room: > a dull red fire glowed in the = grate, diffusing heat, but little hght. On a lounge, in front © of this fire, wrapped in a large shawl, half buried amid pil- ~ lows, lay a ‘female figure—his wife! is “Pll step downstairs,- Mrs. Bartram,” the woman said 4 ae you talk to the ‘gentleman. Do you want the lamp § oe hea “No,” said a stifled voice from among the pillows, “there © is light enough. I will knock on the floor when I want you, | Mrs. Gray.” y Estella’s ‘one And after all these weary years, these ~ commonplace words were the first he heard her speak. ~ a The woman left the room and closed the door. Then, Mr. a Bartram, standing motionless like some tall, black ghost, ad- | vanced and knelt down beside the lounge. a “Hstella,” he said, huskily, “after all these years—at last! — And this is how I find you—poor, and ill, and alone. How @ ads answer to God and man for the wrong I have done ~ you 3 She covered her face with her hands. He could hear her — sobbing; he could see the tears that fell like rain. hs “Only forgive me!” she said, in. the same stifled voice. ¥ “Do not altogether hate me for what I have done! Oh, Al- | wyn; J have suffered bitterly since we parted, but the thought a that [ must again stand between you and happiness—the 7 thought that you may learn to hate me—has been the bit- a terest suffering of all.” # “My poor little Essie!” He drew her hands from before her face and tried to see it. “Let me look at you-—let m see once more the faithful, loving face—always, so tender, ‘a9 comic 900 ‘S. com | 7 , Ano: ti : , he ek 17 ,,