Richland beacon. [volume] (Rayville, La.) 1869-1890, 1880-05-08


living by painting pictures and portreits
But he room found that it was not SC
easy as he thought.
1t was all very we'll when he was heir
to MarstOn Hall, and studied painting
merely from love of art; but picture.
dealers, who in those days had been all
f1attery and Obsequiousness to the young
heir, now that he really 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
new scheme to replenish his slender
purse, the servant opened the door and
ushered white.haired old gentleman
into the room.
Placing a chair by the FIRE for his
visitor, Harry inquired his business.
"YOu are portrait-painter, believe,
sir?" said the old gentleman, looking at
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, l want you to paint the
portrait Of my daughter"
With pleasure, sir" said Harry,
eagerly. "When can the lady give me
the first sittingf'
"Alas! sir, she is dead-dead to me
these twenty years, and l 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 mysterious visitor
must be an escaped lunatic crossed his
mind; but mastering, with an effort, his
emoticn. the stranger continued:
"PaIdOn me, young sir. This is of no
interest to you. My daughter is dead,
and l want you to paint her portrait
from my description, as l perfectly we'll
remember her twenty years ago"
IL will do my best, sir, but it will be
no easy task, and you must lie prepared
for many disappointments," said Harry.
Having given a long description
of the form and features of his long
lost daughter, the old man rose to de-
part, and for weeks Harry worked inces-
sanity 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 over him, and lie sketched
face after face, as if under the influence
of spell.
At last. one evening, wcaried with a
day of fruitless exertion, be was sitting
over the fire watching his wife, who sat
opposite, busy upon some Deedlework,
when an idea suddenly flashed upon
him.
"Tall, fair, with golden hair and dark
blue eyes3 Why Helen, it is the very
picture Of yourselfY' he exclaimed,
starting from his seat, taking his wife's
fair face between his two hands, and
gazing intently into her eyes.
Without losing moment he sat down
and commenced to sketch Helen's face;
and when his strange patron called the
next day, Harry was 90 bueily engaged
putting the finishing touches to his por-
trait that he did not hear him enter the
r. ON, and worked on for some moments
unconscious of his presence, until. with
the cry of Helen, my daughterw the
entranced before the portrait.
After gazing for some minutes in
silence, broken only by his own halt
suppressed sObs of remOrse, the old man
turned slowly sround to Harry, and
asked him in an eager voice where he
had obtained the original of the picture.
cit is the portrait of my wife," re-
piled he.
"Your wife, sir! Who was she?
Pardon me for asking the question" he
added; "but have heard lately that
my poor Helen left an orphan daughter,
and for the last six months have been
vainly trying to find the child of my
lost daughter, so that by kindness and
devotion to my grandchild I might, i
part at least, atone for my 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 en-
tered the room.
Perceiving that her husband was en-
gagged, she was about to retreat, when
the old gentleman stopped her, and,
after looking earnestly in her face for a
few moments, exclaimed, "Pard0n me,
madame-can you tell me your mothers
maiden name?'
"HeIen Treherne," replied Helen,
wonderingly.
"I knew i'll knew itv' exclaimed
the old man, in an excited voice. "At
last have found the child of my poor
lost daughterw
In . few words Mr. Treherne ex-
planned how he had cast of his only
child on account of her marriage with q
poor officer, and refused even to open
her letters when she wrote asking tor
forgiveness.
"But, thank Heavenl" said he, when
he had finished his sad story. al can
atone in some measure for my harsh
ness 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