Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1885-09-10
MYSTERIOUS PORTRAIT.

q
tting-room in hotel in New York
bung lady was sitting in an easy
J, lair, before blazing fire, one dreary
ovember afternoon.
Her hat and cloak lay on the table
efore her, and from the eager, inn
htient glance she turned toward the
Dor at every sound of footstep on
he staircase outside, it was evident
hat she expected a visitor.
At last the door opened and tall,
ristocratic young man entered the
bonn.
Harry, what long time you have
cent? she cried, springing up from
let seat. 'What news have you
|roughtp What does your father say
bout our-our rnarriageP" hesitating
It 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: s4e
..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
fof 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. fsg
..My darling, what was there to tellp
HON. could l know my father would act
in this hard-hearted mannerp knew
he wished me to marry the daughter of
a 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, ~ 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.
ssYou know that it was not of diamonds
or dresses that / was thinking. But
| what are you going to dop" laying her
lhahd on his arm and looking up sadly
into his pale, sad face '.You cannot
work for a living"
"And why not work for a livingP"
be exclaimed in determined voice.
because happen to be millionaire's
son, brought up without any knowi-
! my living ana SHOW ny Sii6 thl!0 5 lllll
not unworthy Of the confidence she
placed in me" and he stopped and
kissed her softly.
It was while pursuing his studies in
oil painting that Harry Marston wooed
apd won Helen Tracy, goyerness in
IN 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 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 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 well when he was the
heir and studied painting merely from
love Of art, but picture dealers, who in
those days had been all llattery 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 Ilshered in
white-haired old man.
Placing q chair by the fire for bis
visitor Harry inquired his business.
.'You are q portrait painter. be-
lievc sirR' said the old gentleman,
'100kinC IN hin, fhr0,,oh ~h;s cvold