Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 106: what you’re looking at

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

At “ : . ‘ . . « ‘ 1 Se 4 oe ae nA DM * 4 *, - =. , tt oe : j * . . s 2 Fak es z * - : ; ” = - nat , moe 4 j - i~ 4 F . » %, ; >'~ . ' a , ’ " i s.% 4g r d ve a Sy Y vee, em ta 2 eo , ° | 3 ’’ ® re ae me * ae F * : 4 2. ’ 4 . a* 1 ‘ baile, ” ; A By pe © » ; rs ut I could -not go—I could not, Leonie, withbut com- ‘ ing | ner e to ‘gee you.” a _. Miss De Montreuil Ghensod her pretty little patrician nose int to her bou ouguet—a bouquet of rarest exotics sent her that rnoon by Mr. Rutherford, the millionaire. of ed ince, do you not? But perhaps you have discovered that it ie pyar secured to you?” — , gpa dnineces no. The issue is still doubtful. I have ; - offended my uncle by rejecting his business, and he still labors — under the impression that his favorite nephew, Robert Bar- tram, is alive. It is nine years now since Robert broke wild and fled from home and friends, but somewhere in the scheme of the universe he may still exist. My chance of inheriting ony uncle’s fortune would be wretchedly slight, indeed, if he — ever turned up.” — ly; “beyond that inheritance you have nothing but your art?” “Nothing, Leonie; but that art shall-yet win me wealth and fame. And you—oh, my darling! you will be equal to Reise fortune, will you not? You will not fail me?’ _ He looked down upon her for the first time with a pang 01 oe dread and doubt. He had drawn her away from the crowded ae Nia 2 im ety amellias and magnolias . hid them, ‘and the air was heavy acacia trees gleamed about them like marble ghosts. __ Miss De Montreuil leaned lightly against a tall statue of Sage holding forth her cup of ambrosia, with a smile on - stone face. In the dim light she made a rarely lovely picture, her shimmering robe flashing like spun gold, her . Of pals glimmering, her graceful little head drooping forward, h jer dark, welvety eyes fixed on the frail blossoms she held. f ererely lovely picture—one any man who loved her might - forget—one that haunted Alwyn Bartram for weary rs to come with a pang more bitter than death. He loved A js * pass onately—intensely. You could see it in his glowing ba n his burning eyes, in the flush that mantled hotly his dar . He towered above her—fairy sylph that she was— tall, strong, black-browed, a fitting mate for her; beautiful, in his man’s YY, as herself. it again! Nothing will ever make you false to the vows you ay ve plighted @ No loss of fortune will ever make you false hs >?) ' £ @; {i hy ey flattering, but very foolish. You risk your inherit- “Very unfortunate for you,” Miss De Montreuil said, cool- oe i 1 the perfume of rose and jasmine. It was quite de-- ~ rted—only the pallid Floras and Cupids among the rose and i ,, “You love me, Leonie, do you not? Oh, my darling, say ym a ee Leonie! my own! tell” me once more that you ‘S (E(0) Shur ears | eae com! Ehboo + a . a. ‘ ‘ . p * - . a - 7 _ , * ~— tote att it, wr. 4 7 i eae - - . ~ . ’ eel ‘ .- oc, ee « ; et m — J . “x : ae a . = C2 Le + 's es , uw” a ye * ® DP ba ’ Pv’ ¥ : - Je il