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Show i THE CBOSS OF LILIES. "You shall no? go I would rather ace you dead alJSy feet." "I ahall go, father aomo day." And so sho went out of his lite. ' He was an old Puritan grim, ascetic, ascet-ic, dead to all pleasure and amusement, Thero were but three things for him! his DIble, his sword, and his daughter. Ho "had laid 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 hla daughter but sbo had gone. She was young nnd beautiful, panting for ail that makes life sweet and gratefulfor grate-fulfor lovofor triumph, for tho applause ap-plause ot thousands. She hod resolved resolv-ed to be an actress and to have them all. She was stifled in that ugly square house in Scotland. The dull, unending moors overwhelmed her. Tho cold gray stones of her homo crushed out all her life. Sho longed for the glare and glitter ot some great city. So one day she disappeared, d James Dor-don Dor-don was left nlono with his Illblo. He uttered no reproach, but his grim mouth seemed to close more firmly while tho lines grow deeper on his rugged rug-ged faco. Tho nolghbors wero disappointed disap-pointed nt his apathy. They mentioned mention-ed his daughter's name to him in tho hopo ot arousing somo emotion or torrent tor-rent of abuso. I! lit he merely halt roso from his chair and looked at them. They wero silent and left him. So n .year passed away, and ho began to grow weary ot sky and moor. He sat all day In his oaken chair with his hand on tho Bible. Ruth Gordon's namo was on every ono's lips In London, Her beauty had brought her all she had ever dreamed, moro than sho could ever have hoped. It was tho last night of tho burlcaquo wherein alio mado herself famous. Tha houso was crowded and sho oxcolled herself In every song and dance. At tho closo ot tho plcco tho stago was covorod with bouquets from admirers from mon sho knew and men who wished wish-ed to be known to her. Sho stood amid a bank of flowers and bowed to tho thunders ot applause. She was a queen for that night at least. Then, when tho curtain had gono down for tho last tlmo she picked up ono or two of tho offerings and went off to tho dressing room. Ono she held In her hnnd bad attracted her by Its uncommon un-common shape and condition. It was a half-faded cross of whlto lilies. Sbo threw It contemptuously on her table and pressed tho other the gift ot a young carl to her lips. "Who dared send mo that shabby thing?" alio said to her dresser, and then picked It up, from sheer curiosity to seo tho namo ot tho man who had ventured to offer it. Bho dropped It and uttered a cry ot surprise and pleasure thon picked It up again and kissed It passlonatoly. Tho label read: "To My Daughtor: Como homo. I am angry no moro." Truly It was the happiest day ot her lite a triumph and reconciliation. Sho left for Scotland that night. How slowly tho train crawled on through tho darkncssl Sho could not sleep and jfjf j "FROM HIS ORAVC." sho watched tho lighted towns go by ono by one until tho dawn. Then tho train dashed through the misty wilds ot Cumberland, past streams and heathor and moors, and at last Bhe was in her own land, flying through the Scots Lowlands, thundering across tho great Forth bridge, and its rival that spans the broad waters ot the Tay. Sho drew near her home and the Been cry becamo more familiar; every spot she passed was bright with momorlcs of childhood. Tho train slowed down and stopped. Sho got out, left her luggage at tho station, and walked towards her home. In ton minutes sho bnd roached tho iouso. It looked moro cold and gray than over after tho brilliance ot Lou-Son. Lou-Son. Sho hammered at tho door, waited wait-ed for a mlnuto or two, and then struck It again. Prosently faint shuffling footsteps foot-steps sounded In the hnll, tho door opened op-ened slowly nnd Jcannlo, tho old servant, serv-ant, confronted hor. Sho throw herself her-self on tho old woman's neck and kissed kiss-ed hor withered cheeks, "My father," she cried. "Is ho well? 0, I am so happy, Jcannlo.' And she tried to pass her, but the old woman stood In-tho way, tho tears rolling down her faco. The girl shivered In hor rich sables nnd stepped back. "Jeannl,e, Jcannlo, what Is It? Let me by," she cried, and, pushing her aside, she rushed Into tho dark dining-room dining-room where her father was wont to alt. Tho oaken chair was empty, but tho Illblo lay on the table open nt tho Rook ot Ruth. Ono paBsago was marked mark-ed with a bluo pencil. It was the verse beginning: "Entreat mo not to lcavo thee." The bluo pencil had dropped on tho floor. Jcannlo had followed her Into tho room with tottering stops. "Whero Is my father, Jcannlo? Does he not expect mo?" "Como nwft'; ho is not hero." "Not hero?" "Ho is not here, I toll ye," shrieked tho old woman. "Como nwa'," and, clutching hold ot the girl she tried to drag her from tho room. Ruth shook off her fcoble hold and turned upon her like a tigress. "Where is ho? What have you dono to blm?" she cried. The old woman moaned to herself, then crawled to tho window. There was a distant view ot the klrkyard on the side of tho purple hill. Tho setting sun fell on the white stones and thoy glittered like stnrs. She polntod her skinny finger In silence and thon croaked! croak-ed! "Yonder, yonder, yonder." 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. "Yonder," Bho muttered, almost unconsciously. un-consciously. Then she broko into a wild laugh, and flung herself into a chair. She read the marked passage and laughed again, still more wildly. "So I kilted him, Jeannie; I killed him, and he bow much did he pay you, Jeannie, to do this thing? All his wealth? It was not too much for ft deed like this." "Stay, mlsslo, stay," she whined, putting put-ting her Angers to her cars to shut out tho tcrrlblo voice. "Ye shall have It a'. I om auld, and the money I couldna' help It." "Keep It; It's accursed, I would not touch It if I wero starving. Dut the cross, woman, tho cross, tho cross ot lilies?" "It was his orders," sho whimpered. "It was 0, the pulr bairn, the pulr bnlrn." "It was what?" tho girl said hoarae-ly, hoarae-ly, rising from tho chair and griping tho old woman by tho arm. "Spaak, you old hag. speak." "It was from his grave." Dlack and White. |