health, which was never very robust, and while there he met Helen
Crayton. It was a case of love at first sight, but none the less pure and
steadfast account. Helen was an orphan--a poor seamstress, but beautiful
and intelligent beyond any woman he had ever met. They loved, and they
would not be cheated out of their happiness by any worldly opposition.
Hubert wrote to his father, informing him of his love for Helen, and
asking his consent to their union. Such a letter as he received in
return! It bade him give up the girl at once and return home. If he
ever spoke to her again he was disowned forever! He might consider
himself houseless and homeless.

Hubert had some of the proud Trevlyn blood in his composition, and this
letter roused it thoroughly. A week afterward he was the husband of Helen
Crayton. He took his young wife to the city, and, having something of a
talent for painting, he opened a studio, hoping to receive sufficient
patronage from his friends to support his family in comfort.

But he had not rightfully calculated the extent of his father's hatred.
He made himself the evil genius of his disobedient son; and, in
consequence, nothing Hubert touched prospered. Mr. Trevlyn destroyed the
confidence of his friends in him; he circulated scandalous reports of
his wife; he made the public to look with suspicious eyes upon the
unfortunate pair, and took the honestly earned bread out of their very
mouths. From bad to worse it went on, until, broken in health and
spirits, Hubert made an appeal to his father. It was a cold, wet night,
and he begged for a little food for his wife and child. They were
literally starving! Begged of his own father, and was refused with
curses. Not only refused, but kicked like a dog from the door of his
childhood's home! There was a fearful storm that night, and Hubert did
not come back. All night his young wife sat waiting for him, hushing the