Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1911-02-24

If Daunt were to fall 4. -. what
would it mean TO her! In that instant
the garden about her. Thorn, the blue
sky above, faded, and she stared dis
mayed into a gulf IN whose shadows
lurked the disas trous, the terrifying, the
irreparabIe. Il love himi 1 love him!"
lit seemed to peal like temple-beH
through her brain. Even to herself she
could never deny it again!
She became aware of music near at
hand 1t brought her back to the pres
emit, for it was the sound OF the organ
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:
81 can not but remember such things
were.
That were most precious to mel
She rose with a sudden swelling of the
throat.
II must go now," she said. THE chapel
is to be dedicated this morning. The or
gan is playing for the service now"
She led the way along the stepping
stones to the bamboo gate. As they APP
preached through the interstices of the
farther hedge she could see the figure
of the ambassador, with Mrs. Dan
bridge. among the kimono entering the
chapel door. In the temple across the
and the dulled, monotonous tom-tom
mingled weirdly with the soaring harmo-
MES of the organ.
With her hand on the paling she spoke
again:
zone thing didn't tell you. 1t was
who built the chapel. 1t is I'm the MEM
DRY of my father. See, there is the me-
mortal window. They were putting 1t
in place when 1 came a 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 chapels eastern side, striking
through its open easements lighted the
isidescent rose-window with a tender
radiance, gliding the dull yellow aureole
about the head of the master and giving
life and glow to the face beside Him
dark, beardless, and passionately tender
at which Thorn was staring, with what
seemed almost an agony of inquiry.
"St. John" she said softly. =" the dis
ciple whom Jesus loved" She drew from
the bosom of her dress the locket she
always wore and opened it. 1.-The face
was painted from Jth.s-the only picture
have of my father"
Ills hand tW1tche0 as he took Il. he
looked att it long and earnestly-at the
name carved on its lid. 'Barbara-Bar-
bara Fairfax he said She thought
his lips shook under the gray mustAche.
'You-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. Cod" he said, as if to him
self. HE will see it through hundred
existences.'
Her eyes were moist and shining. II
am glad you think that" she said.
In the chapel the bishops gaze kim
died as 1t went out over the kneeling
people.
I'VE beseech Thee, that in this place
now set apart to Thy service, Thy holy
name may be worshiped in truth and pur-
ity through all generations"
The voice of the bishop carried across
the lane and entered the window of a
temple loft where a man sat, still and
gray apd quiet He threw himself on his
face with a terrible cry.
MY chHdr he cried in a breaking
voice. MY little, little child. whom they
have robbed me of-whom have never
known in all these weary years. You
have grown away from mel shall never
have you nowl Never : never."