The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1877-07-21
Select Story.
THE MYSTERIOUS PORTRAIT.

blazing FIRE on dreary November after
noon. Her hat and cloak lay upon the
table beside her, aud from the eager, i'm
patient glances she turned toward the door
at every sound Of footstep on the stair
case outside, it was evident that she ex-
pected a visitor.
At last the door opened, and tall, arts
tocratie-looking young man entered the
room,
Harry, what long time you have
been" she exclaimed, springing up from
her seat. "What news have you brought?
What does your father say about our-our
marriage n hesitating with the shyness of
bride at the last word.
Read for yourself, Helen, replied the
husband, handing her an open letter, and
standing opposite her, leaning against the
marble mantlepiece, Watching intensely
the expression of her fair young face as
she read:
In marrying as you have done, you
have acted in direct, deliberate opposition
to my wishes. From this day you are no
longer my son, and l wash my hands of
You forever"
Harry, why did yot not feline Of this
before ?" exclaimed Helen, as she read the
hard, cruel words, looking up through her
tears into her husbands face.
aMy darling, what was there to tell ?
How could l tell that my father would
act in this hard-hearted manner2 knew
that he wished me to marry the daughter
of nobleman living near Marston Hall,
and so unite the two estates; but | had no
idea that he would cast me off for DISC
beying his wishes. And even if I had
known it," he added, fondly clasping his
young bride to his heart and kissing away
the tears from her eyes, 81 should not
have acted differently. My 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 seriously, "there is an
end of your promised shopping expedition
into Bond street. You will have to do
without diamonds now that your husband
IL penniless outcast, instead Of the heir
10 the fifteen thousand a year."
"Hush, Harry Please don't talk like
that" she said in bitter tone. "You
know it was not Of diamonds and dresses
was thinking. But what are you going
to do, Harry sic continued, laying her
hand upon his arm, and looking up sadly
into his pale, set face. "You cannot work
for living,
Sand why not work for living?" he
exclaimed in a determined voice. aBe-
cause j happen to be the sou of baronet,
brought up and educated without any idea
on knowledge Of business But / will
work for living, aud show my little wife
that | am not quite unworthy of the trust
and confidence she rcposed in me when
she placed this little hand in mine" he
added, STOPPING to kiss the small white
hand that rested confdiDgly upon his arm.
II was while pursuing his favorite study
of il-paiutings, among the famous gale
ries Of Rome, that Harry Marstou wooed
and won Helen Tracey, a governess in an
English family residing in Italy, aud the
orphan daughter Of an officer in the army.
Before he had known her month, Harry,
who had been in love-or fancied himself
in love-with at least half dozen differ
ent young ladies in as many months, ielt
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 70 an estate pro-
ducing fifteen thousand year.
1t was not without some inward misgiv.
ings 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 to
maintain himself and his young wife BY
his own exertious, and thinking that surely
his father would relent aud be reconoiled
to him after time, Harry troubled him
self very little about his lost inheritance;
and though their new bome--consistiug Of
three small, poorly furnished rooms il
back street-was very different from the
grand old mansion to which he had hoped
to take bis bride, he set to work cheerfnlly
at his favorite art, and tried hard to earn
living by painting pictures and portraits.
But he soon found that il was not so
easy as be thought
ID was all very well when he was heir
to Marston Hall, and studied painting
merely from love Of art; but picture-deal-
ers, who in those days had been all fattery
and obsequiousness toward the young heir,
now that he really wanted to sell his pic
lures and sketches, shook their heads, and
politely but firmly declined to purchase.
At last, one dreary afternoon, when
Harry was sitting in the little room, he
called his studio, trying to devise some
new scheme to replenish lis slender purse,
the servant, opened the door and ushered
a white haired old gentleman INTO the
room. y
Placing chair BY the Ere for his visi-
tor, Harry inquired his business.
Yon are portrait painter, I believe,
sir r said the old gentleman, looking at
dim through his old speciacles.
That u my profession, SIR said
Harry delighted at the thought Of having
found commission at Inst.
z Well Sir. I want you 70 paint the |
portrait Of ny Daughter"
With pleasure, Sir, said Harry,
eagerly. aWhsn can the lady give me /
The FIRST sittiug2"
Alas, Sir she Is dead--dead to me
'sese twsHty years. and 4 killed her-I |.
broke her heart with my harshness and
iruelty |" exclaimed the old man, in az
xeied, trembling voice.
A strange chin came over Harry, as
he idea that bis mysterious visitor must
. an escaped Ianutic; bat mastering, with
q effort, bis emotions, the stranger CON
nued: - Pardon me, young Sir This is