Thrice Wedded, but Only Once a Wife — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

THRICE WEDDED. 59 spacious drawing-room, clad in robes ci glistening white, and receiving her guests with faultless grace, one cannot marvel at the words and looks of admiration and homage that fall from the lips and eyes of that brilliant assemblage. Yes, it is Dora Dupont! That ‘“‘homely little squab,” to use Mr. Ellerton’s phraseology, had sprung up into a tall and graceful woman, beautiful as a dream, but in other respects the same laughing, happy Dora as of yore. The years had only added new graces, instead of robbing her of the old. ‘There were the same sunny blue eyes, and golden brown hair, only perhaps with a deeper tint in their bright depths and silken sheen. ‘The same rosebud mouth and laughing dimples. Her manners were as free and simple as when she ran skipping through the hall of the little white cottage to meet Robert Ellerton on that bright, fine morning, six years ago. No amount of city polishing could rob her of her freshness, and this alone added tenfold to her charms. ' But how came she here, surrounded by so much wealth and magnificence? Ah! Death had again breathed his icy breath upon her home, and laid low her fond and tender mother. But not — to leave her friendless and alone, as she feared, for before her grief had had time to sere her heart, she was again sur- rounded by an atmosphere of tenderest love and care. HKre she could realize to the full extent her great loss, she was plunged into the lap of luxury, and into the arms of a doting, lonely old woman. The years passed quickly away after Robert Ellerton’s de- parture for Germany, despite the loneliness and dreariness which ‘‘Brightie” at first thought would follow. ‘Then her mother suddenly sickened and died, and the poor girl thought she was desolate indeed—alone in a cold and heart- less world. But the great Giver of Good did not so will it that this bright bird, so full of promise, shonld wither and droop be- fore its bloom. One day an elegant barouche stopped before the little white cottage, and a woman, attired to the extent of fashion, stepped to the ground and entered. It was Mrs. Dupont’s maiden aunt, who had cast her off when she displeased her by marrying the poor doctor. She was sixty years of age, but looked scarce fifty. <S) Eo Eomichboo