The Topeka state journal., 1897-06-10
A CROSS OF LILIES.

'fYou shall not go. would rather see
you dead at my feet. "
81 shall go, father, some day" And SO
she went out of his life.
He was an old PuritRn-grim, ascetic,
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 be an
actress and to have them all. She was
stif1ed in that ugly, square house in Scot
land. The dull, unending 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 neigh bors were disappointed at his
apathy. They mentioned his daughters
name to him, in the hope of arousing some
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 be 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. 1t
was the last night of the burlesque where
in she had made herself famous The
house was crammed, and she excelled her
sole in + fbo olo
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 a bank Of flowers
and bowed to the thunders of applause
She was a 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 went off to her dress
ing room. One she held in her hand had
attracted her by its uncommon shape and
condition 1t was a half faded cross of
white lilies. She threw it contemptuously
on her table and pressed the Other-the
gift of a young earl-to her lips.
''Who dared send me that shabby
thing?" 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 a
cry of surprise and pleasure, then picked
it up again and kissed it passionately.
The label read: ''To my Daughter. Come
home. I 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 the 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 it's rival that spans the broad water
of the Tay. 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.
The station master, after staring at 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. She
hamme mered at the door, waited for a min
ute or two and then struck it again and
again. Presently faint, shuff1ing footsteps
sounded in the hall, the door opened slow
~
ed her. She threw herself on the old wo-
mans neck and kissed her withered
cheeks.
my father" she cried "Is he we'll?
Oh, 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 shivered in her rich sables and
stepped back.
stTeannie. Jeannie. what is It? Let me
by she cried, and pushing her aside, she
rushed into the dark dining room, where
her father was won't to sit. The o4ken
chair was empty, but the Bible lay on the
table-open 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.
Jeannie had followed her into the room
with tottering steps.
where's my father, Jeanniel Does he
not expect meP"
"COme ava. He is not here.'
''Not here?''
f'He is not here, I tell ye" shrieked the
old woman. Come awa'I'' 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
himF" she cried.
The old woman moaned to herself, then
crawled to the window. There was a dis
tant view of the kirkyard 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, yonderl'
The girl looked out, strainins her eyes
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