Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 227: what you’re looking at

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

with the nonchalant grace of your thorough Frenchman, — g a distant off-shoot of the De Montreuil family, and more in- watching, covertly also, the ee between Leonie and her | : - as a death’ s-head, He glanced away from her, and over at the — 222 After Ten Years. ~ . ~ other two, “I will speak to you Aone Estelle, ma mie, let me present my old, old friend, Mr. Alwyn Bartram.” ‘The Count de Montreuil’s daughter had not turned round at the opening of the door. She had been glancing carelessly over the house. But at the sound of the name spoken by her cousin, a sudden stillness came over her from head to foot. ‘he smile on her lips seemed to freeze. The words she was speaking to her tather died abruptly away. The change was 2 ~ 2 “2 - instantaneous—as instaritaneously it vanished. When Mrs. Rutherford presented her “old, old friend,” mademoiselle;the — count’s daughter, was ready to bow with easy grace and in- ~ finite calmness. Her face was paler than her opera-cloak; but that beautiful face was always so colorless, that its added — pallor now was not noticeable. k M. De Launey bent over Mademoiselle De Montreuil’s Chair’ 4 talking vivaciously.. He was an old acquaintance in- Paris; @ timate with the lovely heiress than any other gentieman mesg excepting her father. y - Mr. Waldron stood a little aloof, and looked oieiely on, former flame. lt was a very quiet meeting, on she eentleman’ S side, at least. . Mrs. Rutherford had grown gushing and S icneuial with the lapse of years, and was inclined to recall her first — ne and grow pathetic over it, had see Bartram seconded her : ead. a But Mr. Bartram, more like a ey A of dark marble han ever, sat among the bright lamps with a face of fixed ine and gravity—a face strangely stern and cold for that bril- — lant scene. - He was thinking of his lost wife; of that lost — q wife of whom he had never heard during all those weary years, and of the share this brilliant, hollow-hearted hacer had in driving her from his side. The chief fault was his — i own, no doubt; but Leonie Rutherford had indirectly been | the cause of all. 4 Tis heart turned bitter and A ape than iron as fae pasta arose before him, and the smiling face hideous in his sight — pale, earnest, beautiful face of the count’s daughter. Again — that vague resemblance thrilled him through and through. y ~ “There are women. and women,” he thought, “Mstellas and — Leonies, the true and the false. If faces speak the truth, | this peerless I'rench woman is as noble as she is lovely. And my wife might have grown like that in these ten years, hap- | pily spent. My poor little broken-hearted Essie!” — Mademoiselle De Montreuil raised her eyes as the though* . com choo oks em MNS PEL 44s ROMINCONE Oat raise