Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-06-25
A CROSS OF LILIES.

you dead at my feet. "
! II shall 20, father some day" And SO
she went out of his life.
He was an old Puritan-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 lie 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
stifled 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.
apathy. They mentioned his daughter $
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
a 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. 1t
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 went off to her dress
| ing room. One she held in her hand had
attracted her by its uncommon shape and
condition. 1t was Il half faded cross OF
white lilies. She threw it contemptuously
on her table and pressed the other--the
gift of q 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 Il
cry of surprise and pleasure, then picked
it up again and kissed it passionately.
The label read "To my Daughter, Come
home. 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 tho train crawled on through the
darkness! She could not sleep, and sht
watched the lighted towns go by, one by
one, until the dawn. Then the trair
dashed through the misty wilds of Cum
berland, past streams and heather ant
moors, and at last she was in her owr
land, flying through the Scots lowlands
laundering across the great Forth bridge
and its 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 I'm exclamation and took off his
hat. She smiled in return and made some
| jest in the fullness of her spirits. HI
shrugged his shoulders and turned away.
In ten minutes she had reached thu
house. 1t looked more cold and gray thar
ever after the brilliance of London. She
hammered at the door, waited for a min
| ute or two and then struck it again ant
again. Presently faint, shutting footstep.
sounded in the hall, the door opened slow
| ly and JEANNE, the old servant, confront
ed her. She threw herself on the old wo
mans neck and kissed her witheret
| cheeks.
"My father, she cried. as he we'll
Oh, am so happy, JEANNE" And SHIT
tried to pass her but the old woman stoot
in the way, tho tears rolling down hel
face.
The girl shiyered in her rich sables ano
stepped back.
JEANNE, JEANNE, 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 oaker
chair was empty, but the Bible lay on the
table-open at the book of Ruth. One
passage was marked with blue pencil
1t was the verse beginning, Entreat me
not to leave thee The blue pencil had
dropped to the floor.
JEANNE had followed her into the room
with totterint; steps.
"Wheres my father, JeannieY Does he
not expect me?"
"Come AVA. He is not here
"Not here?"
"He is not here, tell ye, shrieked the
hold Of the girl, she tried to drag her from
the room.
Ruth shook off her feeble hold and
turned upon her like tigress.
where is he? What have you done tc
him?' she cried.
The old woman moaned to herself, then
crawled to the window. There was dis
tant view of the kirkyard on the side OF
the purple hill. The setting sun fell OIL
the white stones, and they glittered like
stars. She pointed her skinny finger in
silence and then croaked, "Yonder, yon
der, yondern'
The girl looked out, straining her eyes
to see the beloved form. When the white
stones flashed on her sight, the awful truth
began to dawn on her.
1t was his ORDERS" whimpered the old
woman. "It was-oh, the puir BARN, the
puir BARN"
1t was what?' the girl said hoarsely,
rising from the chair and gripping the old
woman by the arm. "Speak, you old hag,
speak,"
:" 1t was from his grave. BLACK and