Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-08-24
CHAPTER XVII.

Squire Bancroft had not been so long In the gallery for nothing. He had almost wept over the fine portrait of the youngest son in the reversed row, Allan Percival, last child of Leon Percival, the austere, as he was known.
 And now, on coming out into the hall, this young sprig of Q Londoner put him so much in mind of the picture of the high spirited youth he used to know that he stopped short to think:
 s'Hi feel someow has hif-," he unused, and then taking his gaze from the travel ing bag he acted on the impulse of the mo- ment.
 "Look 'ere, young friend," said he, touch ing Allan on the shoulder as they stepped out into the sunshine. "Pardon me, but hi can't 'elp but see that you resemble so much one portrait hin this gallery hup- stairs. His hit possible hi ham haddress- ing a Percival7 Can hit be that you hare the son hof Italian Percival, so long hago dis inherited solely because e lad sense henough to marry ha sensible woman?"
 The squire's first sentence sent sus picious impression with it's curious articu- lation, and his tap on Allan's shoulder seemed to augur no good to the contents of the case he carried. But the compound question which followed the eccentric old fellows prelude put those fast-rising fears of detection to flight, and substituted a choking sensation of oppressive wrong in their stead.
 Allan looked up. ''You know me, then, by my resemblance to my father," he said, with sad attempt at Q smile. II am the only son of that Allan Pcrcival-in fact, the only child living, and that is why Miriam Percival Fairfax and her solicitors trust mo on this crrand to the Hall. The present owner of Heatherleigh is my cousin, MT. Bancroft, and 1 am com mssioned to the Hall by her implicit or ders."
 "Pon my soul! 'pon my soul 1" exclaimed the squire, grasping Allan's hand. "'Pon my soul, Hi thought the world hof your father, my boy; has hif e were my hown brother" And the impulsivc Bancroft flourished his handkerchief and blew his nose with the sound of Il trumpet. 'Then hits your fathers picture upstairs; wy don't you go hup hand get hitF' Allan shuddered. "Do not ask me to go | upstairs and into that room," he answered, | turning faint at the idea, and covering his face with his hand, as if to shut out even | the bitter memories.
 "Ho! Hi see," rejoincd the squire, "you said this 'orrd place." and he put his arms | akimbo. "Hi seel Hi seeW he continued, | ''you dread hit hon your fathers haccount! 1 Forgive me, my boy; Hi didn't thinks Hi | know the sad story hof your fathers being kicked hout; 'eard hof lis death, too, but didn't lear that e left ha son. We'll! well!'
 For some minutes the old squire stood looking affectionately at Allan and think ing, then he placed his hand kindly on the young mans arm and said: "Don't you want your fathers portrait, my boy: Tiff you do, wy, hi will be glad to go hup there halter hit for you"
 ! in no Ha could not speak A feeling of utter lone- Illness was creeping out of the shadows ard wrapping his soul in it's miserable in- fluence Up there, in the dark, ghostly | place, his fathers picture hung-with it's face to the wall, he had been told a thou. sand times, because he had been cast out and now, after three and 8 half decades o1 gloom and disgrace, it was to be brough, down and given into the hands of the son the child of his mesalliance.
 Allan heard the squire go up the length of the shadowy staircase, heard him tread ing the corridors, as one hears things in { strange, indistlnct dream.
 The sunshine stole down through the tufted elms, the noisy rocks chattered anc scolded high up above the ancient gable: and the April airs went whispering by, bu Allan heard them not. He was listenine attentively to voice sounding down thu aisles of the by-gone, and he heard it say Courses on that old Hall, that sent m adrift; curses, I say!' and it was the voic' | of his father.
 And in connection with this maledictiv' sentence he heard sweet, soft voice. an|
 it said in deprecating tone: "Allan
 Allan!'' And tt was the voice of his gentl
 lady mother.
 But Squire Bancroft interrupted thi
 communion of spirits akln, and brok