The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1885-04-16
A MYSTERIOUS PORTRAIT.


sitting-room in a hotel in New York
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, inn
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 a 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 marriage?' 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 before?" exclaimed Helen, as she
read the cold, cruel words, looking up
! through her tears into her husbands
face.
MY darling, what was there to tell?
How could know my father would act
in this hard hearted manner? 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 if / had known
it," clasping his young bride to his
heart and kissing away the tears in her
eyes, 81 should not have acted differ
emily. My Helen is worth fifty estates,
and as long as she loves me shall
never regret what | 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 do?" laying her
hand on his arm and looking up sadly
into his pale, sad face. You cannot
work for a livingpn
"And why not work for a living?n
he exclaime1 in determined voice.
Because | happen to be millionaire's
son, brought up without any knowl-
| edge of business? 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.
oil painting that Harry Marston wooed
and won Helen Tracy, a governess in
an English family, and the orphan
daughter of an officer in the army.
Before he had known her a 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 for 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 eNertions, 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 living by painting por-
traits. This he found very soon was
| by no means an easy matter.
1t was all very well when he was the
heir and studied painting merely from
love of art, but picture dealers, who in
those days had been all flattery 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 3
white-haired old man.
| Placing a chair by the fire for his
visitor Harry inquired his business,
You are portrait painter, be-
lieve sir?" said the old gentleman,
looking at him through his gold
| rimmed Specf acles