The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1897-06-07
A CROSS OF LILIES.


she went out Of his life.
He was an old Puritan-grim, ascetio,
dead to all pleasure and amusement.
There had been but three things for him
his Bible, his sword and his daughter.
He had lain aside his sword, for he was
growing old. But the book was always by
him, and he loved to interpret It In his
own harsh fashion. And then his daugh-
ter, but she had gone.
She was young and beautiful, painting
for all that makes life sweet and grateful
for love, for triumph, for the applause
Of thousands. She had resolved to BIZ an
actress and to have them all She was
stifled in that ugly, square house in Scot
land. The dull, unendipg moors over
whelmed her. The cold, gray stones Of her
home crushed out all her life. She longed
to spread her wings and to fly to the glare
and glitter Of some great city. So one day
she disappeared, and James Gordon was
left alone with his Bible.
He uttered no reproach, but his grim
mouth seemed to close more firmly, while
the lines grew deeper on his rugged face.
The neighbors were disappointed at his
apathy. They mentioned his daughters
emotion or torrent of abuse. But he mere
ly half rose from his chair and looked at
them. They were silent, and left him. So
year passed away and he began to grow
weary of sky and moor. He sat all day in
his oaken chair, with his hand on the Bible,
Meanwhile Ruth Gordon's name was on
every ones lips in London. Her beauty
had brought her all she had ever dreamed,
more than she could ever have hoped It
was the last night of the burlesque where
In she had made herself famous. The
house was crammed, and she excelled her.
self in every song and dance At the close
of the piece the stage was covered with
bouquets from admirers from men she
knew and men who wished to be known
to her. She stood amid bank Of flowers
and bowed to the thunders Of applause.
She was queen for that night at least.
Then when the curtain had gone down
for the last time she picked up one or two
of the offerings and won't off to her dress
ing room. One she held In her hand had
attracted her by its uncommon shape and
condition. 1t was half faded cross Of
white lilies. She threw it oontemptuously
ON her table and pressed the other--the
gift of young earl-to her lips.
WHO dared send me that shabby
thingi" she said to her dresser, and then
picked it up, from sheer curiosity, to see
the name Of the man who had ventured to
offer it. she dropped it, and uttered
cry of surprise and pleasure, then picked
it up again and kissed 1t passionately.
The label read; "To my Daughter. Como
home. l am angry no more" Truly it
was the happiest day of her life--a day Of
triumph and reconciliation.
She left for Scotland that night. How
slowly the train crawled on through the
darkness She could not sleep, and she
watched the lighted towns go by, one by
one, until tho dawn. Then the train
dashed through the misty wilds of Cum
berland, past streams and heather and
moors, and at last she was in her own
land, flying through the Scots lowlands
laundering across the great Forth bridge
and its rival TINT spans tho broad water
of the Tny. She drew near her home and
the scenery became more familiar. Every
spot she passed was bright with memories
Of childhood The train slowed down and
stopped. She got out, left her luggage at
the station and walked toward her home
lHt stdtiOu Hldstor diUtr stdflHB Ut the
handsome lady in the magnificent furs,
uttered an exclamation and took off his
hat. She smiled In return and made some
jest in the fullness of her spirits. He
shrugged his shoulders and turned away
In ten minutes she had reached the
house. 1t looked more cold and gray than
ever after the brillianee of London. Sho
hammered at the door, waited for min
ute or two and then struck 1t again and
again. Presently faint, shuff1ing footsteps
sounded in the hall, the door opened slow
ly and Jeannie, the old servant confront
ed her. She threw herself on the old wo-
mans neck and kissed her withered
cheeks.
MY father" she cried "Is he wellp
Oh I am SO happy, Jeannie," And she
tried to pass her, but the old woman stood
in the way, the tears rolling down her
face.
The girl shiyered in her rich sables and
stepped back.
JEANNE, JEANNE, what is it9 Let me
by" she cried, and pushing her aside she
rushed into tho dark dining room, where
her father was wont to sit. The oaken
chair was empty, but the Bible lay on tho
Tablespoon at the book of Ruth. One
passage was marked with a blue pencil
1t was the verse beginning, Entreat me
not to leave thee The blue pencil had
dropped to the floor
Junnpic had followed her into the room
with lettering steps
Where's my father, Jeannie2 Does he
not expect mer"
"ComC ava He is not here"
mot herGt"
Gle is not here, tell ye" shrieked the
old woman. Come awa'" And clutching
hold of the girl, she tried to drag her from
the room.
Ruth shook off her feeble hold and
turned upon her like a tigress.
Where is hep What have you done to
himr" she cried.
The old woman mOaned to herself, then
crawled TO the window. There was a dis
tant view Of the krkyard on the side Of
the purple hill. The setting sun fell on
the white stones, and They glittered like
stars. She pointed her skinny finger in
silence and then croaked, "Yonder, yon-
der, yonderI'
The girl looked out, straining her eyes
to see the beloved form. When the white
stDhtS +tIsHtt va NV slShtb lhc awful tiutH
began to dawn on her
1T was his orders, whimpered the old
woman. 1T was-oh, the puir BARN. the
puir bairnr'
ut was what" the girl said hoarsely,
rising from the chair and gripping tho old
woman by the arm, Speak, you old bag,
speak,"
at was from his grave. BLACK and
White.
A Higher Court.