The San Francisco call., 1899-07-09

smile now and then, and to be, II not
gay, at least contented looking again.
Old Mr.. Keane-rather of a recluse
even when a pretty daughter-in-law
and merry grandchildren tried to make
the world happier for minded sud
denly one day, and his death brought
the young doctor face to face with a
totally unexpected complication.
A woman, Of whose very existence he
was unaware, appeared at the funeral
In the deepest OF mourning. and later
put in a claim to half the large prop
erty left by the elder Keane, claiming
to have been for years supported by
him, and to be by contract his legal
wife.
The battle which followed in the
courts was long and severe, and al
though II resulted in a complete VIC
tory for the son, the notoriety which
1t gave the family, and the manner in
which his private affairs became pub
lie property, made the triumph a dear
one for him.
He felt disgraced and Inundated by
the whole affair, in which he was, of
course, altogether blameless. and his
natural shyness deepened into absolute
misanthropy. BY degrees he withdrew
not only from the cOmpanionship OF his
fellow men but even from that Of his
own family, and found his pleasure,
during his few leisure hours, in solitary
communion with himself and his mem
cries in the retirement Of his own spe-
cial apartments
Later, on a pretext SO slight as to be
trivial he gave up the practice Of his
profession, and then his wife, fearing
what she scarcely dared, for the child
ren's sake, to acknowledge even to her
self, persuaded him to close the town
house, which had always seemed to.
harbor within II brooding shadows of
unhappiness and unrest, and come with
her and the children to their country
place in San Rafael
Willing to please her who had brought
into his life all Of brightness that he
had ever known, the doctor for brief
time tried to content himself among
the roses and sunshine of the pretty lit
tie town across the bay. One day, how
ever, the yearning for the old place
grew too strong to be resisted. He had
grown to hate the encircling hills that
seemed to make his beautiful country
home a prison; the sunlight and the
brilliant colors of the flowers which
blComed all about him made his eyes
ache with their insistent brightness; the
glad voices of his children, their music
and laughter and gay good comradeship
disturbed and fretted him beyond en-
durance; his wife's assiduous and low
ingly watchful care filled him with re-
sentful distrust, and he longed for the
solitude, the gloom, the quiet and the
personal freedom which he knew would
be his in the House of Shadows" And
SO he came away from all that troubled
him and sought the quiet refuge Of the
mansion which he so loved.
The heavy oaken doors swung back
on their creaking hinges and the dark
and silent house seemed to welcome
him as If he were a truant son returned
to his own. The doors closed behind
him, and, so closing, shut him away
forever from all that other men hold
dear.
From that day ne has lived there
alone with the shadows. Going and
coming only when necessity drove him
to have commerce with the world out
side and then through the back way
only, his presence among them was for
some time unknown to the good people
of the vicinity, and after while it was
thing weird and uncanny about the
place There were noises to be heard
there at unusual hours, and dim lights
fitted from room to room sometimes
the whole night through.
Now and again, on moonlight nights,
passers-by caught glimpses Of a white
robed figure gazing mournfully through
the curtains, or pacing up and down
with wild Wavings Of upraised arms
a white shadow talking with the black
shadows that ever dogged its footsteps.
Again the strains of music floated out
on the air between the hours Of mid
night and gray dawn; and one man,
more venturesome. than his brethren,
climbing to the drawing room windows
and peering in as best he could, saw a
dim white something cloudily visible in
the gloom enshrouded distance, and
straightway grew sick with fear and
went his way proclaiming awesomely-