Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1885-05-10
\ MYSTERIOUS PORTRAIT.

| =
In small but handsomely furnished
sitting-room in hotel in New York a
young lady was sitting in an easy
chair, before blazing fire, one dreary
November afternoon.
Her hat and cloak lay on the table
before her, and from the eager, i'm
patient glance she turned toward the
| door at every sound of footstep on
the staircase outside, it was evident
that she expected visitor.
| At last the door opened and tall,
aristocratic young man entered the
room.
Harry, what long time you have
been!" she cried, springing up from
| her seat. what news have YOU
brought What does your father say
about our-our marriagep" hesitating
| at the last word.
Read for yourself. Helen" replied
her husband, handing her an open let
ter. and leaning opposite to her against
the mantel-piece he watched her as she
read:
''In marrying as 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 forever"
Harry. why did you not tell me of
this beforep" exclaimed Helen, as she
read the cold, cruel words, looking up
through her tears into her husbands
face.
my darling, what was there to tellp
How could know my father would act
in this hard. hearted mannerp l knew
he wished me to marry the daughter of
wealthy landowner near our home
and unite the two estates, but had no
idea he would cast me off for disobey-
ing his wishes, and even il / had known
it." clasping his young bride to his
heart and kissing away the tears in her
eyes, IL should not have acted differ
emily. My Helen is worth fifty estates,
and as long as she loves me shall
never regret what l may have lost.
But, my love-" he continued more
seriously, "there is an end of our shop
ping excursion into Broadway. You
will have to do without diamonds, now
that your husband is penniless out
cast instead Of the heir to twenty thous-
and year"
''Hush, Harry; don't talk like that"
she said. worried at his bitter tone.
You know that it was not Of diamonds
or dresses that l was thinking. But
what are you going to dop' laying her
hand on his arm and looking up sadly
into his pale, sad face. You cannot
work for a livingp"
''And why not work for living?"
he exclaimed in determined voice.
because l happen to be milionaire's
son, brought up without any knowl-
edge of businessp But will work for
my living and show my wife that am
not unworthy of the confidence she
placed in me-" and he stopped and
kissed her softly.
1t was while pursuing his studies in
oil painting that Harry Marston wooed
and won Helen Tracy, governess in
an English family, and the orphan
daughter of an officer in the army.
Before he had known her month
Harry who had fancied himself in love
at least a dozen times before, knew
that his fate had come. Delighted at
the thought of being loved ior himself
alone, he had not told her of his real
position, and it was not until they were
married that she found out he was the
son of one of the magnates of the state
What took place when his father
learned of his sons private marriage is
shown by the letter.
But Harry was full of confidence in
his ability to maintain himself and his
young wife by his own exertions. and
as he believed his father would in time
relent he troubled himself little about
the lost inheritance.
Their new home, consisting of three
rooms in house on dirty East Side
street, was very different from the
grand old mansion where he had hoped
to take his bride, but he set to work
cheerfully at his favorite art and tried
hard to earn a living by painting por-
traits. This he found very soon was
by no means an easy matter.
1t was all very we'll when he was the
heir and studied painting merely from
love of art, but picture dealers, who in
those days had been all ilattery and
Obsequiousness, now that he really
wanted to sell the pictures and sketch
es shook their heads and politely but
firmly refused to purchase.
At last, one dreary afternoon when
Harry was sitting In the dreary little
room he called his studio, trying to de-
wise some scheme to replenish his
slender purse, the servant ushered in a
white-haired old man.
Placing a chair by the fire for his
visitor Harry inquired his business.
"You are a portrait painter, be-
lieve sirP" said the old gentleman,
looking at him through his gold
trimmed spectacles.
THAT is my profession, SIR" said
Harry, delighted at the thought OF
having found a commission at last.
"Well, sir. want you to paint the
portrait Of my daughter"
With pleasure. SIR" said Harry.
eagerly. Gag Nv When 81, can the lady give me
"Alas, sir, she is dead-dead to me
these twenty years. and ] killed her.
broke her heart with my selfishness
and cruelty" exclaimed the old man
in trembling, excited voice.
A strange chill came over Harry as
the idea that his visitor might be an
escaped lunatic crossed his mind.
Mastering his emotion at last the
stranger said:
"Pardon me, young sir. This is Of
no interest to you. My daughter Is
dead and l want you to paint her por-
trait from my description, as ! perfect
iy well remember her twenty years
ago."
IL will do my best, sir, but it is by
no means an easy task. and you must
be prepared for many disappoint-
ments," said Harry, when having
given minute description of his long
lost daughter the old man rose to de-