Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

a Site ate em Miss Helen is ee . She is waiting for you both in the ae dining-room,” Norah said, briskly. “Her headache is better, and you had best not keep her waiting dinner.” “My head aches,” said Estella, passing swiftly by her. “Ask her to excuse me. I don’t want any dinner.” - She was gone like a flash. Norah lit the gas, and stared blankly after her. oe “That child has caught cold. She is as higrse as a raven. You haven’t been keeping her in a draught, I hope, Mr. Al- ~wyn Bartram?” y _ “No,” Alwyn Bartram replied, a second sharp pang shoot- ing through the heart that beat beneath the jeweled locket, Le. » _ darkly down, Estella Mallory fell on her knees by the bed- _ side, her face lying on her hands, as if she never cared to lift it again, the world locked out, gee battle with her shame — and despair. woe OHAPTER XTiL eee _ -LEONIE. A pharmacies Statute! a radiant vial There was a shim- mer of gold-colored silk, a gleaming of opals, a misty cloud of rare old lace, a slender, willowy figure, robed like a prin- cess in a fairy-tale, a dark face of exquisite loveliness, a fail ee of rich black hair, crowned with a circlet of red eold—and that was Miss Leonie De Montreuil. — crowded rooms as she appeared, floating in her golden robes xi and flashing opals, a perfect picture of youth and beauty. tg flow of society small-talk to stare with all their might. i Paea ‘he little Parisian is in full feather to- night,” one said; - paradise. By Jove! old Rutherford has taste!” Se her Frenchified namé. She was hoed aud bred here tn New me York, and never saw France until within the last three years. - Then this rich uncle, or cousin, or something turns unex- | ~ pectedly up, wants an-heir or an heiress, sends for the little ee Leonie, places her in a Parisian Coeent to be polished up, _ and finally brings her back here, and leaves her. Political asf ook 3 on ee yield over | the see gant Count De Montreuil, and ~ me” as he turned away from the woman’s sharp eyes and left the lant as one of the black-eyed houris of the mussulman’s Pe And up in her own chamber, whilst the rainy night ae __ A low hum of suppressed admiration ran through the - ey ‘>. A httle group of gentlemen, hovering aloof, stopped thezr > ___ “No more a Parisian than you are,’ said a.second, “malgre com Ck boc oks GOl