The San Francisco call., 1904-03-13
CHAPTER VIII.
ITS EFFECT.

Flower O the peach,
Death for us all. and his own life for each
browning
Jake Shackleton did not come up
from San Mateo on Monday as Mrs.
Willers expected, and the first intima
tion he had of Lucy's death was the
short notice in the paper.
He had come down the stairs early on
Tuesday morning into the wide hall,
with it's doors thrown open to the fra
grant air. With the paper in his hand,
he stood in the balcony looking about
and inhaling the freshness of the morn
ing. The rain had washed the country
clean of every fleck of dust, FURNISHED
every leaf, and had called into being
blossoms that had been awaiting its
summons.
From beneath the shade made by the
long, gnarled limbs of the live oaks, the
perfume of the violets rose delicately,
their crowding clusters of leaves
clear green against the pase of the
hoary trunks. The air that drifted
in from the idle, yellow fields beyond
was impregnated with the breath of
the tar weed-one of the most pungent
and impassioned odors nature has man
ufactured in her vast laboratory, char
acteristic scent to rise from the dry, yet
fecund grass lands of California. In
the perfect, crystalline stiffness these
mingled perfumes rose like incense to
the new day.
Shackleton looked about him, the
paper in his hand. He had little love
for nature, but the tranquil-scented
freshness of the hour wrung it's tribute
of admiration from him. What an
irony that the one child he had, worth
having gained all this for, should be
denied it. Mariposa thus framed,
would have added the last touch to the
triumphs of his life.
With an explanation of impatience he
sat down on the top step, and opening
the paper, ran his glance down it's col
umns. He had been looking over it for
several minutes before the death notice
of Lucy struck his eye. 1t took away
his breath. He read It again, at first
not crediting it. He was entirely un-
prepared, having merely thought of
Lucy as delicate" Now she was dead
He dropped the paper on his knee and
sat staring out into the garden. The
news was more of shock than he could
have imagined it would be. Was It the
lately reused pride in his child that had
reawakened some old tenderness for the
mother? Or was it that the thought Of
Lucy, dead, called back memories of
that shameful past?
He sat, staring, till step on the bel
cony reused him, and turning. he saw
his son. Win, though only 23, was Of
the order of beings who do not look well
IL eli htrf1
and thin and had a rasped, pink ap-
pearance, as though he felt cold.
Stories were abroad that Win was dis
sipated stories. by the way, that were
largely manufactured by himself. He
was at that age when reputation for
deviltry has it's attractions. In fact, he
was amiable, gentle and far toe lack
ing in spirit to be the desperate rake
he liked to represent himself. He had a
wholesome fear of his father, whose i'm
patience against him was not concealed
by surface pohteness as in Maud's case.
Standing with his hands in his
trousers pockets, his chest followed,
his red-rimmed eyes half shut behind
the pince-nez he always wore, and his
slight mustache not sufficient to hide
smile, the foolishness of which rose
from embarrassment, he was not son
to fill a fathers heart with pride.
"Howdy, Governor" he said, trying
to be easy; then, seeing the paper in his
fathers hand, folded back at the death
notices. anybody new born, dead. or
married this morning."
His voice rasped unbearably on his
fathers mood. The older man gave
him a look over his shoulder. with a
face that made the boy quail.
''Get away" he said, savagely; get
in the house and leave me alone"
Win turned and entered the house.
The foolish smile was still on his lips.
Pride kept it there, but at heart he was
bitterly wounded.
At the foot of the stairs he met his
mother.
You'd better not go out there" he
said, with a movement of his head in
the direction of his father; its as
much as your life's worth. The old
manI bite your nose off If you do
'Is your father CROSSE" asked Bessie.
Gross? He oughtn't to be let loose
when he's like that"
Something in the paper must have
upset him." said Bessie. HE was all
right this morning before he came
down. Something on the stock mar
ket's bothered him."
Maybe So" said his son, with a GER
tain feeling. But that's no reason why
he should speak to me like a dog. He
goes too far when he speaks to me that
way. There isn't servant in the house
would stand it."
He balanced back and forth on his
toes and heels, looking down, his face
flushed. 1t would have been hard to
say-such was the characterless insig-
nificance of his appearance-whether he
was really hurt, as a man would be in
his heart and his pride, or only mo-
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