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Penny Dreadfuls, 1900 · page 247 of 261

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Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 247: Penny Dreadfuls, 1900

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SO) ELE PREG oe) i in one aioe ae ieee g ange me from the most blessed to the most miserable of men. ~ Re ead this—at will tell you all.” ee: ak z fs 2 " He handed her the fatal letter. ‘She took itt hy ined slowly iG a aie ree ae Her hand ee heavily by hee inde deed: Patience th a He stood near her, but he could not see her face; it was averted, and her whole body was rigid and still. ies aye cats ” “Yor God’s sake, speak to me!” he broke out, ‘passionately. “Say one word, Estelle. Your silence drives me mad!” She turned slowly round, the letter still in her hand, her face very pale, her eyes glittering and quite dry. - But th the voice that answered him had lost the clear, silvery TSE the it made its contralto notes like liquid music. ozs, “TI have known it from the first. I have ‘pik it bi 1ere,” tapping lightly on her dainty corsage. “Our dream | ha: do: 7 Y a very sweet, Alwyn, but it must end.” Ry Momeni He turned from her with a sort of farce: ‘ery—the un- earthly sound of a wild animal Boece to madness by et - able pain. a . “It is easy for you—you, who are an domeke eg for ne —for me, with a man’s rebellious, passionate heart— Oh, a Estelle, my love, my life! I cannot give you up! ee She covered her face, trembling all over at the frantie anguish of that cry. 6 “She should not have spoken!” he — out Piiicnnty 4 “She has been as dead for the past ten years; she should have — remained dead to me to the end. What right. has she to My stand between me and my heavenly dream of bliss? i I nev a eared for her, and she Inows | it. How dane ‘she : a ‘orton “She is your wife.” | arene apa = a The sweet, sad voice, oui ae des ell on vue 4 Atop spirit as the harp of David on the fury of Saul, the king. y She said no more, and a long silence fell. = = + Vehemently he paced up and down; “ola ond ‘Date she e a stood, looking out at the mocking sunshine. ‘The soft, t ten- der tones again were first to break the spell = == “a “She is your wife—your much-wronged, hin -uffoct ng wife. You will go to her, Alwyn, will you not? Ry ink how Jong and how dearly she has loved you!” Her voice © rem- bled. “Oh, surely such devotion as hers. desery yes SO) me reward!” PECL cre “You are right!” _He stopped suddenly ihe his e Ox ‘ited walk. “You are my good angel now, as ever. . Saw | my ¢ uty clear and plain last night, through all the passion nate s st a gle of love and despair that well-nigh drove m =e ind om bi Bis ir Wie RP seinick yi at