Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1883-11-08

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awaited him at his club on his return
to England with his young bride.
! But, full Of confidence in his abil-
ity to maintain himself and wife by
his exertions, and thinking surely his
father would relent and be reconciled
to him after a time, Harry troubled
himself very little about his lost in
heritance and their new home
consisting Of three small, poorly fur
nished rooms in back street-was
very different from the grand old
mansion to which hoped to take his
bride; he set to work cheerfully at
his flvorite art, and tried hard to
earn a living by painting pictures
and portraits.
But he soon found it was not 80
easy as he thought.
1t WAS all very we'll 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 Aattery obsequiousness
towards the young heir, now that he
really wanted to sell his picture and
sketches, shook their heads and po-
litely but firmly declined to pur-
chase.
At last ono 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 chair by the fire for his
visitor, Harry inquired his business.
you are portrait painter, | BE-
lieve, sir 2 said the old gentleman,
looking at him through his gold
spectacles.
That is nv profession, SIR re.
piled Harry, delighted at the thonght
Of having found commission at
last.
Well, sir, l want You to paint a
portrait of my daughter
With pleasure, sir, said Harry
eagerly. When can the lady give
me the first sitting?
Alas, sir, she is dead-dcad tc
me these twenty years, and | killed
her-l broke her heart with m,
harshness and cruelty exclaimed
the old man in a trembling voice.
A strange chill came over Harry
as the idea that his mysterious visit oil
might be an escaped lunatic, crossec
his mind, but mastering with an eff
fort his emotion, the stanger contin-
ued
Pardon me, young sir. This is o
no interest to you. My daughter il
dead, and | want you to paint her de-
scription, as I perfectly we'll remem
ber her twenty years ago
Il will do my best. sir, but it vii
be no easy task, and you must be pre-
,ared for mary trials SAID Harry
when, having given him a long de-
scription of the form and features o
his long lost daughter, the old mar
rose to depart; and for weeks he
worked necessarily upon the mystic
rious portrait of the dead girl. max.
ing sketch after sketch, each OF which
WAS rejected by the remorse--strlckeI
father, until the work began to exer-
else strange fascination over him
and he sketched face after face, as i
under the influence of spell.
At last, one evening wearled with
day of fruitless exertion, he was sit
ting over the fire watching his wife
who was sitting opposite, busy OF
some needle work, when an idea sud
denly flashed upon him.
Tall, fair, with golden hair, an'
dark blue eyes. Why, Helen, it i
the picture of yourself" he exclaim-
ed, starting from his seat, taking hi
wife's fair face between his two hands
and gazing intently into her eyes.
], Without losing moment, he sa
down and commenced to sketch Hell
en's face, and when his strange pa
tron called the next morning, Harr,
was so busily engaged putting TIN
finishing touching to his portrait tha
he did not hear him enter the room
> and worded on for some moments I'm
conscious Of his presence until, will