The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1900-04-21
CHATELAINE OF SHADOWS.


From the chicago Chronicle
Garston was often heard to mention
that parental mansion down in Ken
lucky and sigh picturesquely over the
ruin into which it had fallen. 1t sound
ed we'll but knowing GarstOn, we, his
brethren of house and lobby, regarded
said mansion as a mere touch of color;
a bit Of political padding that took with
the women. When the Hon. John Car
EtOn linked arms with me on the steps
of the Army and Navy and delivered
himself of an invitation to the aforesaid
mansion / was dashed completely. 1
liked GarstOn, there was an attraction
about the man that drew me to accept
without hesitation.
A week later the Flyer left me at
a country platform. There was a rat
Ting of wheels and Garston came dash
ing along with his bays down the
fiower-scented lane. That ride was
revelation 20 my jaded senses; a mod
ernized fragment of Arcadia. The blue
grass fields undulated in ripling waves
and the heavy woodlands murmured
long forgotten music. The far stretches
were colored by ripening Wheat-golGen
beloved under the blue Kentucky sky.
valley where flowed the swift ElkhOrn;
natures riot of color
The delusion fingered as we whir!ed
between two tail brick pillars up d
grass grown avenue of magnificent
oaks. The rambling house was, indeed,
little more than a ruin. The walls
were thick grown with ivy and in the
sunset glow the windows sparkled like
great jewels from their settings. Gar
ston tossed the reins to an old negro,
who advanced from somewhere in the
rear. The wide hall was dismantled
except for the one object that caught
and held me as 1 glanced along the
paneled wall 1t was the life-size pOr-
trait of a young woman, quantity
gowned in the fashion of fifty years
agone- The face was sigularly life-like
as she leaned slightly forward, one
hand resting on the head of a gaunt
stag hound that stalked at her side.
The great stormy eyes of deep gray
caught and held me rivited until Gar
ston, noticing my silence, came up.
Lucy Garston, my fathers young sis
ter. That was painted just a month
before her disappearance. That was her
mothers wedding gown"
Reluctantly I left it and follow ed
Earston as he led the way to my room
That night as we smoked on tbs
veranda he told me the story of Lucy
GarstOn's affair. After all it was &
very meager romance; the same thread
bare cOmmOralty that has formed the
WOOf of many lives. I confess that
was disappointed: rather bored, in fact
My bedroom would have quartered {
small regiment. Far in the shadow:
stood a testered and valanced affair tina
reminded me forcibly of the catafalqut
at recent state funeral from the cap
1tOl Of Frankfort 1 had left the dOOl
ajar. As 1 turned to close it distinctly
j heard the swish of a womans skirt.
and a smOthered laugh. Instantly iunG
1T wide open, but the moonlight pouring
through the window revealed nothing
but the empty hall.
In the morning Garston himself open
ed the subject. Our experiences wer
identical and that night we decided t
Investigate our lady-Of-t he-shadOws.
confess there was a doubt in my mind
born Of world wisdom, but Garstol
sOlemnly declared that to his knowledg
there wasn't a petticoat on the premises
All very well-but that laugh 1t wa
certainly very human. As before, Gar
ston said goodnight, and closed tn
door with a resounding bang. Then w
stood well into the shadow of the door
way and waited.
The moonlight from the great Yves