Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 212: what you’re looking at

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

aw ft. VRetebation. 207 “Mr. Waldron bent over the bed and looked at-his. friend. | q it was his first visit for over a week.. A telegram had taken him suddenly out of town—he had only just returned, and ° _ stil wore his traveling suit. RIND satan ah Man | “No better, Alwyn?” he said. “You look almost worse than ae I left. But I have news for you, old boy, that wil heal every wound—great news—gilorious news! I’ come to restore gy te a wife and a fortune?” Alwyn Bartram stared at him with wild, questioning eyes. Hamilton’ s—he had found Estella. But the fortune? “TY have been out of town for the past week, Alwyn,” he _ gaid, taking a seat by the bedside; “do you know where and. at whose summons ! You would never guess. At Robert ; ee eareratn’ s,” s - wondering. yes and buried! His earthly mischief is over at last.” Dead !”—he lay dully staring at his friend. “Dead!” he y - repeated, in hopeless amaze. “Dead, poor fellow! One can pity the dead, you Lauer f, i a terrible death, too. He was burned alive.’ 4 then lay perfectly still—waiting. — “7 found him in Washington,” Mr. Waldron aid rapidly; ~ was heroic enough—a tenement-house in flames, a child tor- oulsive fellow he always was—he rushed through the flames : and smoke to the rescue of the screaming child. Both per- ished—the burning roof fell upon them. The child was stone | ‘dead when drawn out from the flaming debris—Robert Bar- a tr ‘am was still alive. He lingered long enough-to telegraph €. or me—to do one act of justice before life left him. I saw him laid in the grave day before yesterday, and hastened here at express speed with his dying deposition. Alwyn Bar- tram, as soon as you are able, go down on your bended knees and ask your wife’s pardon. She is the most wronged and most innocent of women.” __ , He looked for some expression of eagerness, of delight, /none came. The sick man’s pallid face turned absolutely fivi vid as he listened. He tried to speak, but only a dry, rat- tling, sound came from his parched lips. 1 Tee ere > are: the dead man’s dying words—written by me— Luly ly sign ene stiot d and 1 cueing RO A last words he ever uttered. i rhe same idea flashed through his mind as through Mrs. ‘ es “And Robert. Bartram is dead! Do you hear, Alwyn ?— Alwyn Bartram uttered one faint exclamation of igus. | the made for the capital when he left. here. And his death: gotten in an upper room. You know what a ‘reckless, m- “Still Alwyn did not speak—he lay blankly asta htanliy » (eo) nicboo S (E(@) ~ $. ~ a de nail i - * » - f be us) be a 4 + ree ee - m4 r cat Be Hai * ~~ tat % “ ¥ ad > -