The Model Millionaire
Hughie and Laura have fallen in love with each other , but neither of them , though good-looking , is earning enough money to make a living , so Laura's father won't give his consent to their marriage unless Hughie has ten thousand pounds . With a bit of luck Hughie unexpectedly gets the money and marries Laura .
Unless one is wealthy there is no use in being a charming fellow. The poor should be practical and ordinary.
It is better to have plenty of money than to be attractive. These are the great truths of modern life which Hughie Erskine
never realized. Poor Hughie! In mind, we must admit, he was not of much importance. He never said a clever or even an
ill-natured thing in his life. But then he was wonderfully good-looking, with his brown hair, his clear-cut face, and his
grey eyes. He was as popular with men as he was with women, and he had every quality except that of making money. His father,
on his death, had
left him his sword and a History of the Peninsular War in fifteen books. Hughie hung the first over his looking-glass, put the second on a shelf, and lived on two hundred pounds a year that an old aunt allowed him. He had tried everything. He had bought and sold shares for six months; but how could he succeed among experienced men? He had been a tea-merchant for a little longer, but he had soon tired of that. Then he had tried selling drink, but that was of no use. At last he became nothing; a delightful, useless young man with a perfect face and no profession.
To make matters worse, he was in love. The girl he loved was Laura Merton, the daughter of a retired army officer
who had lost his temper and his health in India, and had never found either of them again. Laura loved him and he
was ready to kiss her shoestrings. They were the best-looking couple in London, and had not a penny between them. Her father was very fond of Hughie, but would not hear of any engagement.
"Come to me, my boy, when you have got ten thousand pounds of your own, and we will see about it. " he used to say; and Hughie looked very miserable in those days, and had to go to Laura for comfort.
One morning, as he was on his way to Holland Park, where the Mertons lived, he went in to see a great friend of his, Alan Trevor. Trevor was a painter. Indeed, few people are not nowadays. But he was also an artist, and artists are rather rare. Personally he was a strange rough fellow, with a spotted face and a red, rough beard. However, when he took up
the brush he was a real master, and his pictures were eagerly sought after. He had been very much attracted by Hughie at first ,
it must be admitted, entirely because of his personal charm. "The only people a painter should know, " he used to say, "are people
who are beautiful, people who are an artistic pleasure to look at, and restful to talk to.Men who are well-dressed and women who are
lovely rule the world, at least they should do so. " However, after he got to know Hughie better, he liked him quite as much for his
bright , cheerful spirits , and his generous, careless nature, and had asked him to come to see him whenever he liked.
When Hughie came in he found Trevor putting the finishing touches to a wonderful life-size picture of a beggar-man. The beggar himself was standing on a raised part of the floor like a stage in a corner of the room. He was a dried-up old man with a lined face and a sad expression. Over his shoulder was thrown a rough brown coat, all torn and full of holes; his thick boots were old and mended, and with one hand he leant on a rough stick, while with the other he held out his ancient hat for money.
"What an astonishing model ! " whispered Hughie, as he shook hands with his friend.
"An astonishing model! "shouted Trevor at the top of his voice; "I should think so! Such beggars are not met with every day.
Good heavens! What a picture Rembrandt would have made of him! "
"poor old fellow! " said Hughie, "How miserable he looks! But I suppose, to you painters, his face is valuable. "
"Certainly, " replied Trevor, "You don't want a beggar to look happy, do you?"
"How much does a model get for being painted?" asked Hughie, as he found himself a comfortable seat .
"A shilling an hour. "
"And how much do you get for your picture,Alan? "
"Oh, for this I get two thousand. "
"Pounds? "
"Guineas. Painters, poets and doctors always get guineas. "
"Guineas. Painters, poets and doctors always get guineas. "
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