Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1883-10-30
The MgSteriOnS Portrait.

In a small but handsomely furnished SIT
ting room 10 London hotel. a young lady
was sitting in an easy chair, before a blaz-
ing fire, one drealy afternoon. Her hat
and cloak lay on the table beside her, and
from the eager, impatient glanc2s she turned
toward the door at every sound of footsteps
on the staircase outside, it was evident that
she expected o Wis tor.
At last the door opened, and tail, aris-
toeratic-looking man entered the room.
Harry, what d long time you have
been," she explained, springing up from
her seat. s'What news have you brought?
What does your father say about our-our
marriage? Hesitating with the shyness of
bride at the last word.
''Read for yourself, Helen," replied her
husband, handing her an open letter, and
standing opposite her, leaning against the
marble mantle-piece, watching intently the
expression Of her fair young face as she
read
'Harry, why did you not tell me of this
before ?" exclaimed Helen, as she read the
hard, cruel words, looking up through her
tears into her husbands face.
"Ny darling, what was there to tell !?
How could know that my father would
act in this hard-hearted manner? I knew
of a nobleman living near Marston Hall,
and so unite the two estates; but had no
idea that he would cast me off for disobey-
ing his wishes And even if had known
it, he fondly added, 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 so long as she loves me l shall
never regret tie loss of Marston Hall and
its fair acres "But, my love, " he continued,
more seriously, ''this it an end Of your
promised shopping expedition into Bond
street. You will have t, do without dia-
monds now that your husband is a penni-
less outcast, instead of the heir Of fifteen
Thousand year."
'Hush, Harry! Please don't talk like
that" she said, hurt at his bitter tone.
"You know it was not of diamonds and
dress | was thinking. But what are you
going to do, Harry?" she continued laying
her hand upon his arm, and looking up in
to his pale, set face. "You can not work
for a living"
"And why not work for l;ving?'' he
exclaimed in determined tone "Beca1se
l happened to be the son of a baronet,
brought up and educated without any idea
Or knowledge of business? But Twill work
for my living, and show my littlo wife that
l am not quite unworthy of the trust and
confidence she reposed in me when she plac
ed this little hand in mine, he added, stop
ping to kiss the small white hand that
rested confidently upon his arm.
1t WIS while pursuing his favorite study
of oil paintings among the famous galaries
of Rome that Harry Marston wooed and
won Helen Tracy, a governess in an English
family residing in Italy, and the orphan
daughter Of an officer of the army. Before
he had known her month, Harry, who
had been in loye-Or fancied himself in love
with at least half dozen young ladies in
as many months, felt that at last he had
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 until the mar
riage ceremony was over that Helen discoy-
cred that she had married the eldest son of
a baronet, and the heir to an estate produ-
cling fifteen thousand year.
It was not without some inward rnisgiv
ipgs that Harry wrote to his father telling
him of his marriage, which were more than
realized by the result, as we have seen by
awaited him at his club on his return 10
England with his young bride.
But, full of confidence in his ability to
maintain himself and his wife by his exer-
tions, and thinking surely his father would
relent and be reconciled to him after time,
Harry troubled himself very little about
his lost inheritance; and their new home
consisting of three small, poorly furnished
rooms in back street-was very different
from the grand old mansion to which he
had hoped to take his bride; he set to work
cheerfully at his favorite art, and tried hard
to earn living by painting pictures and
portraits.
But he soon found it was not so easy as
he thought.
1t was all very well when he was heir to
Marston Hall, and studied painting merely
for love of art; but picture dealers, who in
those days had been all fattery and obse-
quiousness towards 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 Har-
ry was sitting in the little room he called
his studio, trying to devise some new scheme