The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-11-16
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she could never deny it again.
She became aware of music near at
hand. 1t brought her back to the pres
ent, for it was the sound of the or
gan in the new chapel across the way.
Looking up she was struck by the
expression on Thorn's face. He
seemed. listening. to be held captive
by some dire recollection. 1t brought
to her mind that bitter cry:
I cannot but remember such things were.
That were most precious TO me!
She rose with a sudden swelling Of
the throat.
Il must go now" she said. 1.-THE
chapel is to be dedicated this morn
ing. The organ is playing for the
service now
She led the way along the stepping
stones to the bamboo gate. As they
approached. through the interstices of
the farther hedge she could see the
figure of the ambassador. with Mrs.
cambridge. among the kimonos enter
ing the chapel door. In the temple
across the yard the baton had begun
it's tapping. and the dulled. monotonOus
tomtom mingled weirdly with the soar
ing harmonies Of the organ. 4
With her hand on the paling she
spoke again:
Zone thing I didn't tell you. 1t was
l who built the chapel. 1t Is in mem
ory Of my father. See, there is the
memorial window. They were putting
it in place when I came little while
ago."
She was not looking at Thorn, or she
would have seen his face Overspread
with a whiteness like that of death.
He stood as If frozen to marble. The
morning sun on the chapers eastern
side. striking through its open case
ments. lighted the iridescent rose
window with tender radiance, gid.
ing the dull yellow aureole about the
head of the Master and giving life and
beardless and passionately tender-at
which Thorn was staring. with what
seemed almost an agony Of inquiry.
''St. john" she said softly, 1.-THE
disciple whom Jesus loved" She
drew from the bosom Of her dress the
locket she always wore and opened it.
''The face was painted from this-the
only picture have of my father
His hand, twitched as he took it.
He looked at it long and earnestly-at
the name carved on its lid. Barbara
Barbara Fairfax he said. She
thought his lips shook under the gray
mustache.
"Tou-are a Buddhist, are you not?"
she asked. "And Buddhists believe
the spirits of the dead are always
about US. Do you think-perhaps-he
sees the chapel?'
He put her lOcket into her hands
hastily "Godr' he said, as if to him.
self. "He will see it through hun
dred existencesr' ~
Her eyes were moist and shining. 81
am glad you think that" she said.
In the chapel the bishops gaze
kindled as it went out over the kneel-
ing people.
I'VE beseech thee that in this place
now set apart to thy service thy holy
name may be worshiped in truth and
purity through all generations.
The voice rang valiant and clear in
the summer hush. 1t crossed the still
lane and entered q window where, in
temple loft, man sat still and gray
and quiet, his hands clinched in his
kifnono sleeves:
I'VE humbly dedicate 1t to thee in
the memory Of one for the saving Of
whose soul thou vert lifted upon the
cross"
The man in the loft threw himself
on his face with a terrible cry.
my childr' he cried in a breaking
voice. my little. little child, whom
| they have robbed me of-whom l have
never known in all these weary years!
You have grown away from mel
s,lall never have you now! Never
never!'
Behind him the image of Kwan-on.
the All-Pitying. tossed the sunlight
about the room in golden lettered
flashes. and beneath his closed and
burning lids there seemed to blend and
weave-to form bossed letters which
had stared at him from the rim of the
| rose window: Thou Shalt Have No
Other Gods Before Me-"