Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 217: what you’re looking at

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

212 me Swift Retributiegee oe lory’s old servant, Norah, He found ee : ast little candy and toy store, more grim and re rcix than ever. ir 3 ir-0h Cae ‘apes eae “And so you have ill- used her, ‘and she hag ron sway from §, you,” Norah said, bes terrible erinenes “Pm 1 not st sur prised — lieve me, of course. But she hasn’t come io hanes Mr. B rtram. — _T’ve never set eyes on her since you took her away, and &. | never expect to in this world. Hadn't you better dr: iz the rivers, or search the dead-houses # You’ i be most likely to find hor there.” 4 Sinpeuat And then Norah turned her back upon ES ae t rew her — apron over her face, and doggedly screened es it, re fused to utter another word. | a a He bore it all patiently—he, the BE ae: passionate— = 3 | but he .was utterly broken down. He went back to New York, and recommenced the search. Every means that man could use, with limitless wealth at his disposal, he be dd, id still vainly, vainly. eae The long winter passed, and Sie hen rite thent buds. were green on the trees was that remorseful ‘Search: ‘given over in dull despair. =—_— ma “Viving or dead, I never or to look upon your face. again!’ Those words were my own pitiless words,” he thought, with a bitter groan; “and living or dead, I never will! The only being on earth who ever loved me LL have driven, by my merciless cruelty, to a suicide’s grave!” — Setar g ee —_ “Tt is of no use, Bartram,” George Waldron said to hith with a dolorous shake of the head. “You must give it up! You are killing yourself, old boy, and that will do no good, you know. Better go abroad, as you intended—take to your easel and paint brush once more, and try to forget.” “35 “To forget!” : Khatri. It was all he said, but George Waldron: share remembered the despair of that haggard face—of that low, bitter voi and he knew that until his dying day Alwyn. Bartram w onl ) never forget the great. trouble of his life. But he took his friend’s advice; before sunny, April dre w to a close he had left New York for Italy. tS ete: “Tstella is dead!” were his last words to his tua’ be on ¢! ‘steamer’s deck—“Fstella is in heaven! She never committe suicide—I know that; but I know likewise,” in a tone of ca conviction, “that she is dead. And I. know, George Waldro ‘that I am as much her murderer as thongh I had. held - knife at her throat. If you ever send any Se ishe: me, let them be that my life may me e.soon |” SF . “W ‘nh at