Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 254: what you’re looking at

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

hig Eke na ts AR cd v L ee! ah, 1 ; A: : f — - £ _ Ww 2 , * ‘ ST AT Pn at fe oe “) : ‘ rs mv) . . Oa ; ¥ : , , el a Ny “J ~ y Vaal ae ~~ i t ae" reef (oy, : : - . =? ‘ay ee) “+ ‘ Prd | sna a © Ups ” } See ee ost [Tene ras Lux 2 -. se ae) pn oe vie . oe . i” » F oe Gone!” he aa in amaze. “Gone where?” The woman shook ‘her head. meat don’t know, sir—she left no word. She came into my room, yesterday, and bid me good-by, and told me, if a gen- ql eman called, to tell him she had left for good. That’s all I know, sir.” The woman disappeared. Alwyn eer EN leaned against “the: dirty, begrimed wall, sick at heart. _ What did it erent. ‘Was she mad? Why had she run _ away from him again ? | "proves it—thus! But this time I will find her—this time she : hi : : not baffle me! Poor child! she is afraid to trust me - is: went out rapidly, re-entered the carriage, and was : > driven back to his hotel. As he entered, a waiter met him with a sealed note. 4 “Just been left, sir, by. a servant in ne I was about to _ bring it up to your room.” Mr. Bartram took it, and started visibly. Ah! he knew that delicate Italian hand—that thick, perfumed, glittering ‘ ie proud old crest, and the motto beneath, “Tens ta fo y i hee = “What could Mlle. De Meccan have to say to him now?. He turned away and opened it. It was eminently brief: "resin her from my hand. — ESTELLE.” pal “Are they both in league against me,” he thought, “that they are resolved to make it as bitter as they can? [am only mM man—they should not try me too far. But I will go—it 3 will a something to look once more upon her beaut?ful 99 ) he men on the verge of execution have stopped to make elaborate toilets, so on this last evening Alwyn Bartram stood before. the glass, attiring himself as carefully as though the eart in his bosom did not lie like lead. He went through it ws ~ gt 2 ‘ shanically, and his own haggard face, and hollow eyes, — with _the deep bistre tints beneath;«told of ee, bitterness ‘within, so bravely and silently endured. # “Stes nearly eight, and the silvery moonlight was flooding ty streets with indescribable glory, as he rang the door- the French noble’s familiar mansion. went in searca of his mistress. ~ aad <3 Se a th ” a) ‘ " B= “She pretends to love me,” he thought, bitterly, “and she ~ “Monsteur.—Your wite is. here, Come this evening, and ‘His wite with her! He crumpled the note fiercely in his ; Vv ral t who admitted him ushered him into the empty. | (E() a: e cro 88 sec | over, and. ‘stood, as on that other MBS » 1s : DOKS OS oS ERS i rare Narang “She: