Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

dvd’ Mrs. Alwyn Bare ‘were stared at ; to their hear ie " p | ; % a. nah a , Dine ; or . 1% “ La . ’ J i ‘ ' Ay | ; Ay ' A Ih AG le Res : ‘o- mm 4 5 J iy me i ‘ghy, oe, Is aa, v vt - 142 : uk Oreste Honeysinad i it ae . 4 Mi woph i eae ah a | ’ Mrs. Alwyn Bartram! Yes, she was chat! ‘ieee: ‘one noe, name of all others on earth he had most desi: ed. to bear! | e oh Poor little lonely bride! Pitifully small, and pale, and thin she looked in her deep mourning, all het? bright hair | brushed away, her eyes dull and sunken with incessant weep- _ x ing. She had never known how dearly she loved this indul- __ gent relative—this gentle Aunt Helen—until she was lost _ _ forever. ve And the girlish tears that would aleaoat: have been blissful ae had they fallen upon Alwyn Bartram’s breast, fell slowly-and e wretchedly upon that clay-cold bosom or - Norah’s. faithful shoulder, , For Mr. Ba was very ie of course. AM edolWwed wpon him, and he went about those three days with a face ~ of such dark gravity, not to say gloom, that his nea sa pthe bride quite trembled in the presence of her idol. : “Did he love Aunt Helen so much, or did he love. me 50 little?” she thought, with a sharp pang of doubt and dread. a “Te looks so unhappy, and I am afraid to speak to him—I, who am his wife now, and who love him so dearly.” if His wife! Oh, magic words! ‘They thrilled through the: ve heart of this lovesick little girl like the musie of Heaven. 4 “Ae will think of me--he will love, me—by and by,” she thought, rapturously. “How can I expect him to love me as I love him—he so noble, so handsome, so talented, so far > ee above me every way? And I am to pass my whole life by his _ e side! My love, my darling, my husband!” | ~ But these exalted fits would go, “and moods of diskest~ despondency follow. Mr. Bartram wrapped himself in gloom — as in a mantle, and, had he been anything less than a hero, | might have been suspected of a tendency to sulkiness. Wane eg As it was, he grew in romantic” Essie’s eyes more like» 4 Conrad, the Corsair, every day, and she began to think © Medora’s life must have been one of the dreariest at times, ‘ sitting at her black-browed lord’s feet, essaying” in vain 10 . = ae oa r pe Kg Me onal oo, ilk c % « A ° + 2 ee re. FS win one fleeting smile. Lie The funeral day was dark and raw, ci a piercing” east a is erly wind, and a flutter of snowflakes in the leaden air. oe: Shivering in her crape and sables, Mrs. Alwyn Biewevet ” - leaned upon her hu pease arm, crying wretchedly behind her — a veil, whilst the sods rattled down and the solemn | words of the burial service eared in her ears. | fs Dark and stern as doom her new-made. husband stood: acl tie side her, his gloomy eyes fixed upon the graye—grown _ strangely worn and haggard since the memorable Chri ki ea a eve. a Yi BS ie ae ae Stee pace | TAN AH By com cp Cele} < S.CC ‘ : | ae | te M af > eee ae pee j re