The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1877-08-07
The Mysterious Portrait.

In small Uut HanQSOmcly lurnlSncu |
sitting room ina London hotel, young
lady was sitting in an easy chair, before
a blazing fire, one dreary N,vember af
her hat and cloak lay upon the
table beside her, and from the esger, i'm
patient glances she turled toward the
door at every sound of foolstep on the
staircase outside, it was evident that she
expected a visitor. sss4
At last the door opened, and a tall /,
aristocratic looking young man entered
the room. 'l' - f75
Harry, what a long time you have
been r she exclaimed, ,springing up from
her seat, What does your father say
about oar-our marriage2' hesitaling
with the shyness of bride at the last
word. %. o5
"Read for yourself, Helen replied
the husband, handing her letter and
standing opposite her, leaning against
the marble mantlepiece, watching intent
ly the expression of her fair young face
as she read: "In marrying as you have
done, you have acted in deliberate oppo.l
sition to my wishes. From this day
you are no longer my son. and l wash
my hands OF you forever"
"Harrg, why did you not tell me OF
this beiore?" exclaimed Helen, as she
read the hard, cruel words, looking up
through her tears into her husbands
face. .t4a..s
my darling. what was there TO tell !?
How could / know that my father would
act in this hard-hearted mannerP knew
that he wished me to marry the daush-
ter of noblemaD living near Marston
Hall; and so unite the two estates but
l had no idea that be would cast me off
for disobeying his wishes. And even if
I had known it," he added, fondly clasp
ing his young bride to his heart and kiss.
ing away the tears from her eyes, 81
should not have acted differently. Ny
Helen is worth Fifty estates, and as long
as she loves me shall never regret the
loss of Marston Hall and its fair acres.
But my love-" he continued more seri-
iously, "there is an end OF your prom
ised shopping expedition into Bond
street; you will have to do without dia-
monds now that your husband is PEN
niless outcast instead of the heir of fif-
teen thousand q year." sfI $3.50
"Hush, Harry! Please don't talk like
that" she said in bitter toner "You
know it Was not OF diamonds or dress l
was thinking. But what are you going
to do, Harry2" she continued, laying
her hand upon his pale, set face. "You
cannot work for a living" .d
"And why not work for living2" he
exclaimed in a determined voice.. "Be
cause happen to be the son Of baro.
net, brought up and educated without
any idea OF knowledge of business P
But will work for my living and show
my little wife that am not quire unwor-
THY of the trust and confidence she re-
posed in me when she placed this little
hand in mine,' he added, STOPPING to kiss
the small white hand that rested eonfid.
lingly upon his arm. saea ga
1t was while pursuing his favorite
study of oil painting among the famous
galleries Of Rome, that Harry Marston
wooed and won Helen Tracy, COVER
ness in an English family residing in 1t.
ally, and the orphan daughter of an Off
Ger in the army. Before be had known
her month, Harry, who had been in
Ilove-or fancied himself in love-with
at least half dozen different young la.
dies in as many months, felt that he had
at last met his fate.
! Delighted at the idea of being loved
for himself alone, he had not told her OF
his real position; and it was not till after
the marriage ceremony was over that
Helen discovered she had married the
eldest son OF baronet, and the heir to
an estate producing fifteen thousand
year. sta fT
1t was not without some inward mis-
givings that Harry wrote to his father
telling him of his marriage, which were
more than realized by the result, as we
have seen by the letter from Sir Philip
Marston, which awaited him at his club
on his return to England with his bride
But full of confidence in his ability tc
maintain himself and his young wife BY
his own exertions, and thinking surely
that his father would relent and be re-
conciled to him after time, Harry
troubled himself very little about his
lost Inheritance; and though their new
bome-consisting of three small, poorly
furnished rooms in back street--wa'
very different from the grand old man
sion to which he had hoped to take BIZ
; bride, he set to work cheerfully at BIZ
!. favorite art, and tried hard to make ,
;; living by painting pictures and portraits
But he soon found that it was not q
easy as he thought.
It was all very well when he was nei
at Marston Hall, and studied paintin!
merely from love OF art; but pictur
dealers who in those days had been a.
) 6attery and obsequiousness toward th
> young heir, now that he really wante'
to sell his pictures and sketches, shoo
3 their heads, and politely but firmly dt
3 clined to purchase.
At last, one dreary afternoon, whe
: Harry was sitting in the little room b
Z called bis studio, trying to devise som
;. new scheme to replsnish his slende
I purse, the servant opened the door, an
l ushcred q white haired old gentlema
into the room.
Il Placing q chair by the FIRE for his vii
K Klitor, Harry inquired his business.
9 "You are portrait painter, / believ'
q sir ?" said the old gentleman, looking I
him through his old spectacles.
That is my profession, sir" replie
: Harry. delighted at the thought of hsy
T. ing found commission at last.
r "Well, sir, ! want you to paint tt
:, portrait Of my daughter"
st "With pleasure, sir" said Harry, 81
Ie gerly, "Wben can the lady give me II
t, srst sittingY'
}. "Alas, sir! she is desd--dead to n
le these twenty years; and killed her
Ell broke her heart with my haishness an
t. cruelty" exclaimed the old man, in g
10 excited, trembling voice.
r. A strange chill came over Harry,
ly the idea that his mysterious visitor mu
Do be an escaped lupatic crossed his r1int
W but mastering, with an effort, bis eIn
at ton, the stranger continued: "Parde
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