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


old gentleman into the room.
Placing a chair by the fire for his visitor,
Harry inquired his business.
''Yon are a portrait painter, l 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 having
found a commission at last.
"Well sir, I want you to paint por-
trait of my daughter"
"With pleasure, sir, - said Harry, eagerly.
"When can the lady give me the first Sit
ting?'
"Aas, SIR" she is dead-dead to me
these twenty years, and 1 killed her-1
broke her heart with my barshness and
crueltyr' exclaimed the old man in trem-
bling voice.
A strange chill came over Harry, as the
idea that his mysterious visitor might be
an escaped lunatic crossed his mind, but
mastering, with an effort, his emotion, the
| stranger continued:
"Pardon me, young sir. This is of no
interest to you. My daughter is dead, and
| want you to paint her description, as l
perfectly we'll remember her twenty years
ago."
'sI will do my best, sir, but it will be no
easy task, and you must be prepared for
many trials,' said Harry, when, having
given him long description OF the 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 af-
ter sketch, each of which was rejected by
the remorse- stricken father, until the work
began to exercise strange fascination over
him, and he sketched face after face, as if
under the influence Of spell.
At last, one evening, wearied with a day
of fruitle SIS exertion, he was sitting over
the fire watching his wife, who was sitting
opposite, busy on some needle-work, when
an. idea suddenly flashed upon him.
Tall, fair, with golden hair and dark
blue eyes. Why, Helen, it is the picture
of yourself!'' 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 tho next
morning, Harry was so busily engaged put
ting the finishing touches to his portrait
that he did not hear him enter the room,
and worked on for some moments uncon
scious of his presence, until, with cry of
"Helen, my daughterp' the old man hurri-
ed him aside and stood entranced before
the portrait.
After gazing for some minutes in silence,
broSen only by his own halfsuppressed
sobs of remorse, the old man turned slowly
around to Harry, and asked him in an eager
voice where he had obtained the original of
the picture.
SIT is portrait of my wife," Harry re-
piled.
''Your wife, sir. Who was she? Par
don me for asking the question, - he added,
''buJ | have heard lately that my poor Hell
en- 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 oTny grand
child [ might IL part atone for my harshness
toward her mother"
Harry was beginning to tell him the sto-
ry of bis meeting with Helen at Rome,
and their subsequent marriage, when the
door opened, and his wife came into the
room.
Preceiving that her husband was engag
ed she was about to retreat when the OLD
gentleman stopped and looking earnestly
into her face for few moments, said:
Pardon me, madam-can you tell me
your mothers nader name ?''
"Helen Treherne," replied Helen, won
deringly.
Il knew it knew it," cried the old
man in an excited tone. CAT last | have
found the child of my poor lost daughterP'
In few words Mr.. Treherne explained
how he had cast off his only child, on &C
count of her marriage with poor officer,
and refused even to open her letters when
she wrote asking forgiveness.
"But, thank heaven" said he, when he
had finished his sad story, Il can atone in
some measure for my harshness toward my
Helen by taking her Heen to my heart
and making her my dear 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 a
letter Of reconciliation to Harry, and after
all, Helen eventually became mistress of
Marston Hall, in the picture gallery OF
which no painting is more valued or treas
ured than 'The Mysterious Portrait"