Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

eee ar eS ie BS; a eign 3 Hy Willen Mallory. “i - | V7 with Nilsen hes wivant to rear her and bring her up to be a "daughter to him in his old age. How well he kept that prom- _ Ise we know, don’t we, Estella?” ae, have had a lonely life and a hard life,” the sick girl said; “but he never turned out a merciless tyrant until of late. SS 5Ghis on.” Pat _“T answered bis daktex= a few sharp, bitter hnes. My es "Was very sore—my life was blighted—I had given up my be- trothed husband when our disgrace came—proudly and pas- sionately I had refused him. I would disgrace no man, I said—east dishonor upon no honorable name. | “So George Bartram left-me and wedded another bride, and - JT had little reason to care whether my dead sister’s nameless _ ehild lived or died. I settled down to dreary old-maidenhood, i | ‘ with rancorous bitterness in my heart for Monsieur Raoul, _ hating the whole French nation for his sake, and with my Fa. Sh rag Norah, dragging out my lonely, loveless, imperfect oe ORE o ec “But asiyears went on I softened. My sister’s memory grew less. ‘bitter. I felt a desperate longing for something to Le love. I yearned to look upon the face of her child. I wrote to Peter Fishér then, asking him to send you to me, but he = persistently refused. At last 1 gave it up. IL ceased writ- ems a to him altogether until your father came and changed eH. 2a ) ‘ ye “Tt was one day, late last April—a dreary, wet day—as I ~ gat here alone, that the door-bell rang, and Norah answered it. - An instant later I heard her wild scream. I started up, hur-— ried downstairs, and found myself, after over seventeen years, — face to face with Monsieur Raoul! ‘ 2 a _ “T Inew him instantly, and he knew me. Time had . ehanged him but little. Handsome as ever, elegant as ever, fe ) self-possessed as ever, he looked me full in the face, held out _. his hand and spoke my name. For me, I turned sick as he death. My dead sister rose up out of her grave, a reproachful Fc ra ghost; and I think if I had had strength, I would have struck i ie ~ him in the face with my open hand. But I leaned speechless | against the wall—sick and trembling from head to foot. Phen you don’t know,’ were the first distinct words I 4 heard him utter—‘she never told? Helen Mallory, I come to _ you for news of my wife!’ BS AO oe. wife! !’ I gasped. “Y our wife—was my sister : Estella a _ “My wedded wife—yes, before ever she left her father’s a ee aes ce = ol aim her at last? eit L ooked at him, growing eold and calm all at once. house to follow my fortunes. Where is she now? I come to * >. @& a, | i Be “You come rather dete in _ the seh Monsieur Raoul,’ I Bi “Se oats | Gomick 200 <SGO