Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 226: what you’re looking at

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

* — haha 7 bh at Fe 2 ty tepals oa z é * - ”~ ’ Hs ‘ oo * Sena, te, aD Fos ae ae 5 Sah ad Satie O Rher Ten Years. 221 ee round that exquisite mouth, there lay a weary look, the look o face ever wears, save (he face. of one who. has suffered k itterly, and learned endurance after the long, long strife. c “Tt is the ideal face I have been aoe SO long to paint, and trying in vain,” he said. Ba an A Saas ae many earthly deck I vainly sought ae est The shadow of this idol of my thought.’ | e on. I wonder no longer that Russian princes and a haughtier English earls have laid their crowns and coronets vainly at her feet. We read of ‘women to die for. I begin ss to think there must be such things aiter all—women who : van trample on strawberry-leaves.” 3 “JT say, Bartram,” George remarked, with a queer aide ‘glance, “does she remind you of any one you. ever knew? That turn of the head, that expression about the mouth, those “an ber eyes—think?” . - But Mr. Bartram had no need to think; the vague resem- = ance, shadowy, yet strong, had struck him with a quick io areas! from the first. ee See ,’=he said, very gravely, “J see—I understand. And | 68 Btatesque. woman, ~ ee ; Bees dhucbter of the gods, divinely tall, = And most divinely fair;’ | aor but it is: resemblance you speak of 3 is there. She reminds me of my wife.” | ; _ “The little Rutherford sees us,” cried George, animatedly. “Look. how she stares! She recognizes you, Alwyn. See ‘beauty’s bright transient glow’ all over her fair face in de- E: By y Jove! she bows and beckons! Let us go!” 4 "You grow excited, tres cher,’ De Launey said, with a French an’s shrug. “One would. faney you in the fair 1 Leonie’s list of killed, too. But come, the curtain falls and | lady waits. Come, Mr. Bartram, and be presented to the cist beautiful woman in New York.” — 1 Hn three young men arose and made their way to the box f the Count De Montreuil. Leonie Rutherford turned athe rly round, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling, her inged hand outstretched. “Mr , Bartram |! !”” she nt | “Oh, what a surprise this 31 If: 2K looked. and beheld Napoleon Til. sitting down oment ago, I could A seit have been more — Ua “ eep in the depths of: thoke. pathetic, liquid dark eyes, aad Your ‘Wikdemesceile De Montreuil is rarely beautiful, Wal- lighted surprise. Does she wear your fetters still, I wonder? yet Estella was not like at not in the least like yonder ed. Bon Ou ur, 2 _Mnessieurs,” vith a 1aug ing (E(0) or . tn - - . a Cha ae ease Rly 1 - 4 ca Peat = z ; Zz ; > fe . oe Pag . . ag * we : aK ? as c= - ¥ ~ . or “ 2 . ms ~ 7 > MS ’ , » 1 es “ : ' ae 4 » - ar a way or EARLS RE comiuck Siok: