The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1880-04-08
THE MYSTERIOUS PORTRAIT.


lady was sitting in an easy chair, before
blazing FIRE, one dreary November
afternoon. Her hat and cloak lay upon
the table beside her, and from the
eager, impatient glances she turned
footstep on the staircase outside, it was
evident that she expected n visitor.
At last the door opened and a tall,
aristocratic-looking young NAH entered
the room.
"Harry, what long time you have
beenp she exclaimed, springing up
from her seat. "What news have you
brought? What does your father say
about our-our marriage" hesitatiDg
with the shyness of bride at the last
word.
: "Read for yourself, Helen" replied
her husband, handing her an open let
ter, and standing opposite her, leaning
against the marble mantelpiece, watch
ing intently the expression of her fair
face as she read:
"In marrying rs you have done, you
have acted in direct opposition to my
wishes. From this day you are no
longer my son, and / wash my hands of
you foreverl"
"Harry, why did you not tell me of
this beforeP exclaimed Helen, as she
read the hard, cruel words, looking up
through her tears into her husbands
face.
"My darling, what was there to tell
How could l know that my father
would act In this bard hearted manner?
knew that he wished me to marry the
daughter of q nobleman living near
Marston Hall, and so unite the two
estates; but had no idea he would cast
me of for disobeying his wish. And
even IL / had known it," he added,
fondly clasping his young bride to his
heart, and kissing away the tears from
her eyes, al should not have acted diff
ferently. My Helen is worth fifty
estates, and as long as she loves me 1
shall never regret the loss of Marston
Hall, and its fair acres Bu', my love-"
he continued more seriously, "there is
an end of your promised shopping ex-
pedition into Bond street. You will
have to do without Almonds, now that
your husband is penniless outcast, in
stead of the heir TO f15,000 a year."
Hush, Harryl Please don't talk
like that" she said, hurt at his bitter
tone. "You know that twas not of
diamonds and dress was thinking.
But what are you going to do, Harry 7"
she continued, laying her hand upon his
arm, and looking up sadly into his pale,
set face. You cannot work for liv-
ing.
exclaimed, in determined voice. "Be-
cause | happen to b. the son of Baro-
net, brought up and educated without
any ideas or knowledge of business ?
But / will work for my living, and
show my little wife that | am not quite
unworthy Of the trust and c~n6dence
she reposed in me when she placed this
little hand In mine, he added stooping
30 kiss the small white hand that rested
confidingly upon his arm.
1t was while pursuing his favorite
study Of oil paintings among the famous
galleries of Rome that Harry MarstOn
wooed and won Helen Tracy, governes'
in an English family residing in Italy
and the orphan daughter of an officer il
the army. Before he had known her q
month, Harry, who had been in love
or fancied himself in love-with at least
half dozen different young ladies in nj
many menths, felt that he had at last
met his fate. ~
Delighted at the idea of being loved
for himself alone, he had not told her ol
his real position, and IL was not until
alter the marriage ceremony was over
that Helen discovered that she haC
married the eldest son of Baronet, and
the heir to an estate producing f15. .00t
year.
II was not without some inward mis-
giving that Harry wrote to his father
telling him of his marriage, which were
more than realized by the result, as w
have seen by the letter from Sir PhiliI
Marston, which awaited him at his clut
ON his return to England with his bride
But, full Of con6dBhce in his ability
10 maintain him-elf and his young wife
by his own exertious, and thinking thai
surely his father would relent and bt
reconciled TO him after time, Harry
troubled himself very little about hi
lost inheritance; and though their new
home-consisting Of three small, poorly
furnished rooms 10 a back street-wa,
very different from the grand old man
sion 70 which he had hoped to take hi
bride, he set to work cbeerfully at hi
favorite art, and tried hard to earn
living by painting pictures and portrsits
But he toon found that it was not *
easy as he thought.
IL was all very we'll when he was he'll
to Marston Hall, and studied paintin,
merely from love of art; but picture
dealers, who in those days had B. en- al
6attery and obsequiousness to the youn,
beir, now that he really wanted to sci
his pictures and sketches, shook thei
heads, and politely but firmly declinet
TO purehae. .rHi
At last. one dreary afternoon, wher
Harry was sitting in the lie room h,
called his studio, trying to devise som,
new scheme TO replenish his slende
purse, the servantopened the door ape
ushered q white-haired old gentleman
into the room. ~
Placing a chair by the FIRE for hi
visitor, Harry inquired his business. 2
"You are portrait-painter, / believe
sirf said the old gentleman, looking a
him through his gold spectacles.
THAT Is my profession, SIR" replied
Harry, delighted at the thought of hav
ing found q commission at last.
"Well, sir, want you to paint tn,
portrait of my daughter"
with pleasure, sir" said Harry
eagerly. When can the lady give m,
the first sittingr
"Alasl sir, she is dead-dead to NJ,
these twenty years, and I killed her
broke her heart with my harshness anc
crueltyp exclaimed the old man, in al
excited, trembling voice.
A strange chill came over Harry, a,
the idea that his mysterious visitor
must be an escaped lunatic crossed hi
mind but mastering, with an effort, hi
emotion. the stranger continued:
"Pardon me, young sir. This is Of n,
interest TO you. My daughter Is dead
and ] want you to paint her portrai
from my description, ~ ! perfectly wei
remember her twenty years ago
I will do my bert. sir, but il will h,
no easy task, and you must be prepared
for many disappointments," said Harry