Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

PRothefont Repeat: oot LES past t mine > again \ to-morrow. Wealth and luxury are as essen- tial to me as the air I breathe. Were I his wife this moment, and dh Si ag in spite of all my love } would be miserable.” She arose and walked slowly up and down the exquisite _ dressing room, a picture of beauty in itself. - BS ne 7 How. well he looked! Handsome as a demi-god, and all Se "devotion to that insipid Blanche. Will he do as I have done ¥ marry her, I wonder? At least he need never be ashamed of his wife, as I am of that horribly odious old man. Has he ‘orgotten meso soon? Has the old passionate love quite died out? Has he nothing left for Leonie, the false, bus scorn BS nd contempt? I will know,’ she said, inwardly, setting her ie te eeth. “We will meet in society. From his own lips I will a ear what he thinks, and after—‘after that the deluge.’ ” Mrs. Rutherford went to bed, and slept the sleep of the i sage, and Mr. Rutherford, the ‘milloinaire, might have gone ~ for sympathy. to Alwyn Bartram’s wite, for his 3 image, in his - spouse’s dreams, sleeping and waking, was quite as totally ag _ ignored. But Mrs. Rutherford had. pate one “Tittle mistake—she did 3 ‘ not meet her old lover in society. Business had brought Mr. ‘Bartram to New York, and he devoted himself to business and the company of his bachelor friends, and Vanity Fair sew very little of him. His mourning was one excuse; but then he was house hunting, and had engaged a housekeeper, 3 nd these facts leaked out in spite of his grim taciturnity. _ He was married, had a mysterious wife hidden away in Bos- Ree and the rumor spread and gained ground every day. It fe reached the ears of Leonie Rutherford, and was the last drop 8 zone everywhere in hope of meeting him. He was not to be maddest act of her Aife. She wrote Mr. Bartram a 1 Pe rours. Will you come totierrow evening ue ) Head them with you. I shall be quite alone.” ee ere was ; neither date nor signature to this rash epistle. It needed 1 none. — Mr. Bartram would have known that thick, age vehi French paper, with its fanciful silver monogram— th “over, unfaltering, se Italian tracery—the wide world , « fre: as he read. His ; triumph had come. met; and driven to desperation Mrs. Rutherford was guilty _ added to her already overflowing cup of repentant bitterness. > He In vain she had dressed exquisitely and looked beautiful and 4 te. was Ghee: in Gia room when it came, and his face — d dark red, and his large, deep eyes glowed like coals of tal os the i ~ cea ns “aaa with that sardonic (E(6) - * ae « a 7 “~?. ba oT * Po 3 - ’ ~— 4 ; “> w/a | => ee oe ae i! ; 1 . oH 1 LS he pe & + ee. - , ~ hs a - - * nied - “i a 5. & rs ¥ z eK) ~ ; ; . AS ee . at -