Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1879-04-03
(Cnnfinned from first page. J

WELD where the family honor was con-
cerned. and silence as of the grave closed
over Rupert's name within the shadow oil
the manor. IL ever whisper reached
the mothers ear that he had found wei
come in Gainsborough's studio. the wills
per never had echo from her lips.
The Squire. once bluff and hearty, grew
stern-the blow he had dealt ut his boy
had fallen on himself
Nothing was heard from Rupert for
many wears. His sisters married and went
their several WAYS to distant homes. Reg
inald alone was left Then he took to
himself wife. and grandchildren ran in
and out on the tapestried rooms with a
pleasant patter on the oaken floors. and
climbed the old 'Squre's knee, and won
smiles from the sad-eyed grandmother,
who sighed SO heavily as she watched
their childish gambols.
The seasons came and went. 1t was
the tenth anniversary of the day on which
a preiudced father drove forth his son (as
stubborn as himself) to shape future IN
the untried world Ten wears since Ru-
pert, with the double fire of genius and
obstinancy in his eye, rode away down the
long beech avenue without one backward
glance at battlements or mullioned win
dow to stir the deeper emotions of his
soul and change his purpose.
Squire Fosbrooke and his heir had been
out with the hounds since dawn. The
London carriers wagon creaked slowly
along a by-lane to the back of the great
house, and there surrendered a square,
unwieldly, fiat packing-case. over which
conjecture wasted itself until the white
haired dame, yielding less to the curiosity
of her grandchildren and their mother,
Lady Annabel. than to some unconquera-
BILE impulse within herself, gave orders for
the forcing of the lid. Whatever lay
within was covered with a thick cloth, on
which was inscribed in bold characters:
RUPERT FosBRoOKE's ADDITION TO TIE
FAMILY PORTRAITS
The elderly lady blanched to her very
lips. With gesture rather than word she
ordered the removal of the cover while the
children crowded around in wonderment,
and Lady Annabel drew herself up dis
painfully.
There, limned by no tyro, thediscarded
son of the house looked out from the
canvass, older, manlier, nobler than of
old, palette and brushes in hand, Il fine
boys head before him on an easel. and by
his side, with fingers lightly resting on
his shoulder, woman lovely rs a paint
er's dream. No need of the written le-
gend to declare that Rupert's wife and
son were also there portrayed; or that his
had been the artist hand.
Rupert Fosbrooke, Maud, his wife,
and Rupert, his son. read Reginald's
eldest boy. why, grandmother, who
are they?'
your uncle and your aunt and cousin,
child,' sobbed the bereaved old lady in
broken accent, while the servants drew
respectfully apart, and whispered be-
meath their breath. Lady Annabel plucked
her children away. saying:
Uncle and aunt. foorsooth . They are
neither kith nor kin of mine, boy. No
common painters doll-iaced wife claims
affinity with me e
Lady Annabel. said the elder. gather
ing up her form. ''Rupert Fosbrooke is my
dear son. | never disowncd him. will
not disown the fair mate he has chosen.
He would never stoop to one unworthy"
''Stoop. He had sunk TO the por,rait-
painters level ere he welded his masters
niece. | heard so much. Madam. when |
was last in town So saving Lady Anna
bel swept away to gve her hide ones a
lesson in pride of birth, and obliteratc. if
possible, the pictured relatives from re-
membrance.
Lady Aunabel was no favorte with the
old servants, and dark-eyed Rupert had
been.
Reverently they obeyed Dame Eos
brooke behest, and carrying the picture in
to the long dinng-roOm, set it upright
against the tapestried wall by the side of
the carved buffet
As the Squire entered with troop of
hungry hunting friends, the picture caught
his sight. For few moments he STOOD
gazing upon it with changing color and
breath that came and went then, raising
the whip he held, he struck at The fiome s
fercely, while he demanded hoarselv who
had dared to brave him thus, and babe the
servants haul forth and burn it.
There was bonfire blazing in the ward
while the Squire and his friends supped,
and Lady Annabel looked on with stern
satisfaction from an upper window. But
the packing-case alone was burned. The
picture itself had been Struggled mo the
closed chamber of the artist, aud the good
DANES secret was well kept; not for fee
or reward, but for the love of Barbara
Fosbrooke and her youngest born.
Four wears Dame Barbara kept that Sc
cret, along with others, in her heart; and
then, lying on her dea.h-bed, she broke
the long silence and prayed that Rupert
might be summoned to close her dying
eyes.
1t may be that the squire was likewise
wearying for sight of his discarded son,
and only lacked pretext for his recall,
for he was no longer obdurate. No doubt
in his hidden soul he had long repented
his hasty orders anent the picture. and
blamed the too obedient cxecutants of his
will. With barely a show of hesitation he
consented, but Reginald and Lady Annabel
too crafty to demurr, too proud to own Il
painter for brother threw obstacles in
the way. There WIS no clcw to the vag-
abond whereabouts. -
From locket worn concealed the feeble
mother produced a tiny slip of paper. II
held Rupert FOsbrooke's name and adj
dress. Here was an mlooked-for reveIa
lation. Annabel and Reginald exchanged
glances.
''Ah this implies correspondence. I
presume, sir, you have no knowledge of
al al