Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 88: what you’re looking at

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

isk: aes The ae ery, ity | 83 e. haa SO, eke to Aunt Helen and her faobiehs match-— making, Kstella’s silly little head began to be filled to over- flowing with vain conceits and dreams of this dark, un- known hero. She had read alittle Ake all blue and gold. “Summer a Dreams,” by An Idler, and she knew the “Idler” to be Mr. ‘Alwyn Bartram, and to her the pretty, tender jingle of his love songs was the sweetest music on earth. It was an un- conscious mixture of Alfred de Musset and Alfred Tenny- son, and it had been a failure-in the literary world, as all early volumes of poems seem destined to be; but to Helen Mallory and her niece it was as the music ‘of the spheres, with every line worthy to be written in letters of gold. She ~ had read his only novel, “The Lady Claribel,” another liter- ary failure—a tender, dreaniy, misty, love- idyl: she had seen a portfolio of his drawings and water-color sketches, and all, all had been perfection. She had gazed on his portrait, painted by himself —a handsome, dark-eyed fellow, with a high forehead, and a beautiful, sensitive mouth, ‘and her heart had thrilled—that silly, yarmaritic heart!—and had al- most stopped beating at the delirious thought that one day she was destined to see, to Speak to this wonderful being in - broadeloth. ‘The last of August found ‘Estella’ quite well: and uke to race ‘up and aaa stairs, and explore her future home. A very nice house—full of large, airy, pretty apartments, with an elegant drawing-room, ere a grand piano held solitary state,and Mr. Alwyn Bartram’s portrait smiled serenely down Res from the papered walls. A beautiful room to unsophisticated Estella, with its velvet carpet, its amber- stained curtains, its - earved and gilded chairs, its grand gasalier, its pictures and . flowers and splendidly bound books. Aunt Helen laughed at _ the little country girl’s raptures. y ae “Foolish child! it is only a very commonplace apartment, ae a ter all. Wait until you go into society—wait until you ae ome out,’ and go to parties over in the city, and then you | ay see. My poor little drawing-room will look contracted ~ and shabby enough in comparison with the untold glories of Beacon street. I seldom™enter it myself, except now and then for an hour’s practice. You can’t play, of course; well, I shall teach you.” i - And then Aunt Helen opened the piano, and sat down igen and played a few waltzes and marches, and threw her niece ae into a second eestasy of delight. is oe : chow. beautiful it all is, and how happy you ought to be!” oa Sy bee uzht 1? Yes, I suppose so—if I were not the most un- re - € pr: rateft snd . discontented ‘wretch alive.. But ‘I am happy now, ~ “Will I ever be able to. at Po like that, Aunt Helen? Oh, Gomick a0 OkKS:- GO