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

hairs fell from his thinning scalp: and
sat in the shade of the alders and willows
by the moat-.ide. needless of the flight OF
time. AT first his youngest grandson bore
him constant company, AID fished by his
side with willow wand for rod. pratt
Ting i'm boy fashion, with or without re-
ply.
One memorable evening. as Lady Anna
bel was about to retire for the night, and
the housekeeper bore light before her
along the corridor. they saw pale light
streaming under the closed door of Ru-
pert's room; then there was moan and
q fall.
Both women screamed; Reginald and "A
troop of servants rushed up the wide
staircase. The latter hung back when
told the cause of alarm, but Reginald
dashed open the door and found, As he
expected, his father living senseless on the
floor.
But where was the light the pair had
seen? There was only the light in the
housekeeper's hand And the servants
whispered among themselves.
The Squire was raised, and after time
revived. But he would give no eXplana-
ton as TO what had caused his swoon.
From that night, however, he would
have no companion when he went to fish,
sending his grandson back, kindly, but
peremptorily He assigned no reason;
and when the child cried his lady mother
encouraged the child to disobey. His
grandfather drove him back; but one day
when so dismissed. he refused to depart,
and then the Squire gave up his sport al
together warning the boy not to go near
the moat alone.
The warning was disregarded. Before
many days We're gone, slimv and drip
ping form was drawn from the moat. and
Lady Annabel, wringing her hands. ac-y
cused the old man of having murdered her
boy. And the Squire turned mourninlly
away-but answered her never word.
A month or more elapsed. Squire Eos
brooke came not to the breakfast-board.
House and grounds were searched. He
was found at last. lifeless. before the paint
ing of his banished son.
Reginald, now lord of the manor, shut
the room once more and kept the key. 1t
was needless precaution. From the time
that Mistress Hope. the housekeeper, had
C )nfided to the steward that Rupert, the
painter had died in London the very night
the old Squire was found lifeless before
his picture-from that time superstitious
awe locked the door without key. The
old Squire. and he alone would approach
it night or day.
His death there confirmed the evil re-
pute of the chamber. and Dame Fos-
brooke's dying words were repeated I'M
der breath through house and village.
Mistress Hope. having long rebelled
against the rule of Lady Annabel, retired
on the pension left by the squire
In less than couple of years Reginald
Fosbrooke was pitched clean over the
neck OF his hunter, and Lady Annabel was
left widow, to reign supreme at the man.
or during the three years of the heirs
minority.
Then the steward followed Mrs. Hope
to London. and, though late in life, they
made match of it. They did more they
rescued Rupert Fosbrooke's wife and son
from the poverty into which they were
falling.
When the picture scheme of reconciia-
ton failed. Rupert grew bitter and angry
with himself for having made the advance.
But when, through Mrs. Hope. he heard
of his mothers death, and the naughty
answer Rcginald's messenger had
conveyed to the manor as from him, grief
and vengeance alternated in his breast, and
in the turmoil he could not paint, and dis
appointed his patrons. A brain fever set
in, and he died eXecrating his brother
Reginald and threatening to haunt him
and his till the wrong was righted
Maud, the unfortunate painters widow,
though too proud 10 appeal to her sister
ln-law. was not too proud to accept the
home made for her and her son Rupert by
the faithful steward and his wife they, in
their turn, felt it only an honor to devote
to the service of Fosbrooke the money
they had saved in other Fosbrooke's SER
vice. They lived to see the younger Rn-
pert married, and impressed on him for
his descendants this record of family his
tory and enlargement, coupled with the
doom hanging over the elder branch of
the family, insisting that every fatality
which befel Fosbrooke had been myster-
iously foretold or previsioned within the
haunted chamer of the discarded son.
So the story was handed down to me,
with an addition of casualties by flood
and field which had carried off the Fos-
brookes. either in infancy or age, and
which were only to be averted when the
elder Fosbrooke extended the right hand
of fellowship to the younger, and Rupert's
heirs became masters of the manor.
My grandfather believed this implicitly.
As for myself, was born in IA skeptical
and practical age. and have had to fight
my own way so sturdily. | have had no
leisure to waste on the ghostly traditions
OF bygone ancestors in a remote manor
house
So it might have been to the end of the
chapter but for combination of fortui-
tous circumstances. which, to say the
least were remarkable.
CHAPTER II.
My friend, Stretton, the solicitor, of Gle
ment's Inn, to whom owe whatever sue
cess have made, came to my chambers
in the Temple one summers day in I'M
usual haste for him, and handed me long
brief and "A stiff retaining fee. SAYING
There, run your eye over that II YOU
can talk the jury over to give Your clients
Il verdict, your Fortunes made" And he
gave me quick tap on the shoulder
| had taken up the paper languidly.
myers against Fosbrookes.'
With quickening thrill ran my eve
over the brief and soon made myself mas
ter of IFS contents