Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

f vie - : ‘ , 7 t ’ , wi ’ iw > iy vy b : is , 7 F a , y] , Ny ; ae Wy - wi / iM Vy b> rit roe vw. .. ) ih * ; . ' u nl ; « ; ' n | ; | ivi i’ 1h’ SAS of / ‘ : J * “ey ¢ ¥ , on Py a” mY | Ate ‘ , ee ¢ , : r ; he * ‘ , ' . tant ‘ y wii P . o*% 7 * ea aa devoted, anticipating every so ae very jewel of a ‘purse. “You are a treasure, Madame Carlotta,” the physician said to her one day, in a burst of professional enthusiasm. Hae” ™~ A sc ri will owe her recovery as much to your nursing as to my ski fm For Estella was recovering slowly, but surely. Before the close of the first fortnight, the hazel eyes opened to calm hfe and reason once more—opened, and looked dreamily in the dark face bending over her. “Who are you?” she had whispered, faintly. 7. “Your friend,” answered the sweetest voice, it seemed to — the girl, she had ever heard; “but you are not to talk. You _ are to drink this, and go to sleep.” She obeyed-—too feeble even to wonder—and slept long and soundly. When she again awoke, many hours after, the dark face was still there. — “T don’t know you.” she said. “Tell me your name.” _ “My name is Carlotta. I am your nurse. You have been 93 “Til, have 1?’ very faintly. “What has been the matter ?” “4 “Brain fever; but you are better now. Only you must not. talk until you grow stronger.” Again Estella obeyed, through sheer weakness. But lite and strength came rapidly, and beat strongly in her breast. , Before the end of the third week she was able to sit up in bed and eat dainty little messes the young nurse concocted with - her own hands. Memory returned with that new life, and slowly Estella re- membered all the events of that horrible night. It seemed a long way off now, and with a thrill of terror she realized her present situation. Sick and a prisoner—in the power of : Peter Fisher and Roysten Darrell—alone and friendless in the wide world. Where was Dick Derwent? What must. ciless men ? She asked no questions—some vague intuition told her the lay, and thought and thought, and realized fully all her help- lessness and misery, until a sick despair took possession of her body and soul. “Why did I not die? ?” she thought, wearily. “Others die for whom the world is bright, but I—I, who have nothing to live for, nothing to hope for, T grow well: te af _ No; Estella had nothing to hope for, Peter Fisher’s ward Hepa knew very little of that other radiant world, where all the eee _ misery of this lower life ends, and perfect joy begins. — ‘She eg was nee | ‘oaton than a he athen, , poor child, with a very vague he think of her? Was he, too, in the clutches of these mer- owner of that dark, unsmiling face would answer none. She - 7 Re 3 i oe ay Teteae TRE ey hee eS : ; : nee EGOMlGer 0) VO iS G 0) hh