The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1878-08-01


sou of a baronet, and the heir to an estate
producing ,O(O year. i
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 to
maintain himself and wife by his own
cxertions, and thinking that surely his
father would relent and be reconciled to
him after time, Harry troubled himself
very little about his lost inheritance; and
though their new home consisting of
three small, poorly furnished rooms in q
back street-was very different from the
grand old mansion to which he had hoped
to take his bride, he set to work cheerful
ly at his favorite art. aud tried hard to
earn a living by painting pictures and
portraits. But he soon fonnd that it was
not SO easy as he thought.
1t was all very we'll Wien he was heir
TO Marstcn Hall, and studied painting
mere ~ from love ofart ;but picture-deal
ers, who in those days had been all fiat
terry and obsequiousness to the Young
heir, now that he finally wanted to sell
his pictures. 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
pew scheme to replenish his slender
purse, the servant opened the door and
ushered white haired old gentleman in
to the room.
Placing his chair by the fire for his Wis
itor. Harry inquired his business.
"You are portrait-painter, l believe,
SIRE said the old gentleman, looking at
him through his GOLD spectacles.
THAT IS my profession. SIR replied
Harry, delighted at the thought of having
found a commission at last.
"Well, sir, want you to paint the por-
tr,it Of my daughter"
with pleasure, sir,' said Harry ca
gerly. "When can the lady give me the
first sitting?'
"Alas! sir, she is dead--dead to me
these twenty years, and killed her
broke her heart with my harshness and
cruelty!' exclaimed the old man, in an
excited trembling voice.
A strange chill, came over Harry as the
idea that his mysteliou visitor must be
an escaped lunatic crossed his mind; but
mastering, with al effort, his emotion. the
stranger continued
"fardon me, Young sir. This is of no
interest to you. My daughter is dead,
and want you to paint her portrait from
my description, as ! perfectly we'll re-
member her twenty years ago"
II viii! do my best, sir, but it will be
no easy task, and you must be prepared
tor many disappointment" said Harry,
when, having given long description of
tho form and features Of his long lost
daughter, the old man rose to depart,
and for weeks he worked incessantly
upon the mysterious portrait of the dead
girl, making sketch after sketch, each OF
which was rejected by the remorse
stricken father, until the work began to
exercise strange kind of fascination ovcl
him, and he sketched face after face, US il
under the influence: Of spell.
AT last, one evening, wearied with q
day Of fruit(ess excrtion, he was sitting
over the fire watching his wife, who sal
opposite, busy with some needlcwork
when an idea suddenly flashed upon him
''Tall, fair, with golden hair and dark
blue eyes? Why Helen, it is the very
picture of y'urself!" he exclaimed, start
ing from his seat, taking his wites fail
face between his two hands, and gazing
intcntly into her eyes.
Without losing Il moment he sat dow,
and commenced to sketch Hclcn's face
and when his strange patron called the
next day, Harry was so busily engaged
putting the finishing touches to his Dor.
trait that be did not hear him enter the
room, and worked for some moments IN.
conscious Of his presence, until, with the
cry Of "Helen, my daughter!'' the old
man hurried him aside, and stood en-.
tranced before the portrait.
| After gazing for some minutes in
silence, broken only by his own half
suppressed sobs of rcmorse, the old man
turned slowly around to Harry, and
asked him in an eager voice where lie
had obtained the orr ginal of tie picture,
1T is the portrait OF my wife," replied
he
"Your wife, sir! Who was she2 Par
don me for asking the question:" he
added; "but l have heard latcly that my
poor Helen left an orphan daughter, anc,
for the last six months l have been vain.
ly trying to find the child of my lost
daughter, so that by kindness and devo-
ton to nv grandchild might, in part at
least, atone for harshness toward her
MOTHER
Harry was beginning to tell him the
story OF his meeting with Helen at Rome,
and their subsequent marriage, when the
door opened, and his wife entered the
room.
Pcrceiviag that her husband was ell
gagged, she was about to retreat, when
the old gentleman stopped her, and after
looking earnestly in her face for few
moments, exclaimed. Pardon me. mad
amc, can you tell me your mothers
maiden name?"
''Helen Treherne," replied Helen,
wonderingly.
~ knew it, knew it" exclaimed the
old man, in an excited voice. "At last
have found the child OF my poor lost
daughter!!'
In a few words Mr.. Treherne explained
how he had cast OFT his only child on &C
count of her marriage with poor officer,
and refused even to open her letters
when she wrote asking for forgiveness.
But, thank Heaven!" said he, when
he had finished his sad story, II can
atone in some measure for my harshness
toward my Helen by taking her Helen to
my heart and making her my daughter"
1t is needless to add that when Sir
Philip Marston heard that his son had
married the heiress of one Of the finest
and oldest estates in the country, he at
once wrote & letter of reconciliation to
Harry, and, after all, Helen eventually
became mistress Of Mars,on Hall, in the
picture gallery Of which no painting is
more valued and treasured than "The
Mysterious Portrait"
King and Servant.