IN THE WAKE OF A LILY

New Zealand Tablet, 29 June 1911, Page 1181

IN THE WAKE OF A LILY

„ . The western sky was radiant with glorious colors. Crimson and gold, violet and amber, vied with each other in presenting every tint known to man; ami from it all emanated the glow—the faint, indescribable glow—of an April sunset. In the suburbs of the great city or on the wide avenues; of the residential section, ; where there was space tor the passer-by to note the wonderful sinking of the sun below the horizon, few failed" to pause and admire

the more than usual beauty of the spring evening: but in the densely-settled, squalid closeness of the poorer districts, sunset] faded into twilight unnoticed. Here, streets so narrow that they scarcely deserved the name were* bounded by tall, ungainly tenements, with factories, warehousesall the unsightly mechanism of a busy manufacturing city crowded between. What could one see of the vast arch overhead, of its lights and shadows, or its sunsets? Smoke and dust darkened the atmosphere; the blowing of factory whistles and the passage of heavy drays filled the air with discordant noises. There was nothing eround. of beauty, nothing calculated to instil a love for the beautiful. Yet even here Nature had her admirer. In one of the numerous houses which lined the narrowest, poorest street of this section, a young girl watched breathlessly the wonderful changing colors in the panorama above. Her room, with its single window from which she now gazed, was on the topmost storey of the tall building; but she would not have had it elsewhere, since its elevation permitted a view, over the roofs of the houses opposite, of the only beauty vouchsafed her —the ever-wonderful dome overhead. In former days, the long climb from the street had never been minded; while now for many weeks she had not taken that weary climb at all. Little Reddy Malohe had become her Milling errand boy, when the heavy cold which she had contracted at the beginning of the winter settled finally on her hip, and she found herself scarcely able to limp around her tiny room. So all day long she sewedplain sewing or fancywork, whichever was demanded of her by the store that supplied her with materials, and offered a meagre compensation for her dainty work. The winter had thus been for her a very dreary one. She raised her window and breathed deeply the cool air, which all the smoke and dirt beneath could not entirely rob of its freshness; then she closed it hastily, lest its crispness strike too sharply the one other thing which lent joy and brightness to her sombre life. On the sill beside her was a plant—an Easter lilyso beautiful, with its half dozen or more opening blooms, that one wondered how it could have reached such perfection in this unfavorable atmosphere. But not so those who knew the. unceasing care with which Nora, had guarded it. .. Months before, a lady, bringing assistance to an old servant who occupied the room adjoining Nora's, bad observed the girl as she watered and tended a slender geranium slip she had found in the street; and because of a talk with her, in which she learned of the girl's fondness for flowers" and sky— those things of the country life she could vaguely remember— a subsequent visit had brought the lily, which had ever since been the joy and pride of Nora's life. The old servant had died shortly afterward, and Nora had not seen the lady since; but the girl, had always gratefully remembered the giver of the little plant which had proved so gentle a companion . %i She was caressing the pot with an almost reverent touch when the partly opened door was suddenly flung wide, and Reddy Malone, whose mother occupied the flat beneath, bounded into the room. The little boy was always a welcome visitor to Nora. He brought her all the news of the inmates of the rest of the —how Mrs. Grady's baby was, and whether Granny's cough was improving. For Nora made the best of her surroundings, and, though of a better class than her neighbors, was always a tender sympathiser with their ills and joys. Besides, every week since Nora had been crippled, Reddy had taken her work to the store and brought hack the payment; and, in return, Nora helped him with his lessons and heard him recite his Catechism. Just now lie unceremoniously hastened to unburden himself: '■l say, Nora, you know the folks named Mason what lives downstairs on the fourth floor? There's a mother and!;five or six kids. Billy's the oldest; he's a little-bit bigger than me. Well, the man's"been a-comin' an' comin' there after the rent, an' they couldn't pay it, an' now he says they'll have to pay to-morrer or get out. Mrs. Mason an' Liza's cryin' an' cryin', an' Mrs. Mason says they ain't got no place to go to, an' she can't never get any money to pay it. Ma says she could let Mrs. Mason have three dollars toward it, but that wouldn't help much. Maybe' (halting abruptly as a thought suddenly occurred to h'm) 'if we could get some of the other folks in the house to chip in to raise the money, they mightn't have to move out. Do you think we could?' Nora had listened to this recital with exclamations of sympathy and encouragement; but now she shook her head. ' I'm afraid the"'''-*' all too poor, Roddy,' she said. 'l've only half of my rent saved up. I've been so sick lately I couldn't do much work, and I haven't got a thing I could g've them,' as she glanced around her sparsely" furnished room. But it wouldn't do any harm to try. though,' she added hopefully. They say" Daddy Runt'ei has money hidden away; you might ask him, and maybe some of the others could spare a little.' 'I think I'll try it. Golly, Nora, ain't your lily lookin' fine! . I was down-town to-day, an' they were Bell in' lilies not half as pretty as that for a dollar an' a half. My, wouldn't you miss yours if it should die?' - - 'lt won't diel won't let it,' she said. ',..' And, when it stops blooming this year, I'll take such good-care of it that it'll bloom again next Easter, maybe. But you'd better hurry away, Reddy, if you're going to do what you said;' - ii - V ■'-;. ■■■••■ -■:•■•- ■'....;';--. ' .■■■;- .. , ... ■

Good example is a powerful factor. In less than an hour Redely was back, breathless and elated/ but still looking somewhat dubious. - / ;?- 5 . _'l got it all but two dollars!' he exclaimed, exhibiting a box tilled with quarters, dimes, and nickels, and even, boasting two or three bills. ''Mrs. Minahan gave me a dollar, an' Pat O'Brien an' Mary Blake an' Pete Malley each fifty cents, an' old Mr. Abeson a quarter, an' Jimmy Flaherty a quarter; an'— guess what! Daddy lluntel - gave me three dollars. He grumbled somethin' awful; but I told him he was "goin' to die soon anyway, so ho wouldn't miss it for very long. That made him madder than ever, but he gave it to me all the same. Lots of tho others gave me dimes, too. But I ain't took the money to Mrs. Mason yet, 'cause she says the man won't take a' cent less than the whole amount she owes; an' I thought maybe I could get the rest in the mornin'. But I'm 'fraid . I can't, 'cause I been to everyone in the house.' ;i Nora clapped her hands in heartiest approval when :..; the lad came to a pause. My, that is grand, Reddy! I didn't dream you could do it. But I wish I knew a way to help you get the rest. Don't I wish I had it to give you!' The girl frowned thoughtfully into the depths of a slender lily-cup as she spoke; and from out its fragrance there was born a thought so hard, so exacting, that she put it from her in dismay. 'What? Of course not! ft is not possible!' Still, the idea seemed clothed in the pure; misty veil of its flowery birth, -i and: beckoned; her again and again to face its inviting presence squarely. She caught her breath involuntarily, with an expression of such pain on her face that Reddy asked in concern: 'What's the matter? Are. you sick?' ■ ';J 'No, no! I'm quite well, Reddy,' the girl answered, compelling herself to speak naturally*. ' I'm just a little tired, that's all. And I think you'd better run along now. It's getting late, and your mother will be looking for you. Andj Reddy, don't say anything about needing that two dollars, but come tip here again in the morning, and maybemaybe we'll think of a plan to get it ourselves.'. :■'' " ;. a ,..V For a long time after the boy had departed, Nora sat motionless, gazing at the lily beside her. Her thoughts, however, were not of it, but of an incident in her child—that childhood which, though the girl was yet in her teens, seemed very far away, so filled with loneliness and poverty had been the intervening years." She was again in the little parish school of her village home, at this same beautiful season; and the Sister in charge was showing her and her little companions a picture of the Resurrection and explaining its sacred symbolism. And, as she sat thus, the idea that had come to her lost its stern r aspect/- "and appealed irresistibly to her warm, generous nature. Mystically, in a way she herself could not have expressed, in that dark, dreary room, the same glorious living Figure seemed speaking to her 'I am the Resurrection and the Life.' _ As the beautiful thought took possession of her heart, it cast all other thoughts, desires, and even sacrifices into nothingness; and when Nora crept wearily into bed that night, after having watered her lily with a few tears she could not repress, the self-denial offered her had been cheerfully accepted. Little Reddy Malone's blue eyes questioned in astonishment when, upon entering Nora's room the next morning, she dropped her sewing and held out to him the muchprized lily, which she had carefully wrapped in a newspaper. .... You know you said they were selling lilies for a dollar and a half, Reddy. I want you to take this down-town, please, and see if you can't get two dollars for it.' ,7 ■"*•' , What d'ye mean, Nora?_ You ain't goin' to sell your lily! You said you were goin' to keep it always.' •'' Reddy. I've had it long enough; and just now -I want the two dollars more than I want the lily. - You do what I tell you, like a good boy; and come back as soon as you can. It's so pretty ' —Nora cleared her voice, which was a little husky'it's so pretty you won't have any■ trouble .selling it, especially as to-morrow is Easter Sunday.' . '• The sun was setting again when Nora, her sewing finished, put it aside, and sat in idleness for the first time' that day. She had worked, worked, worked as never before, not looking once toward the window-sill where, previonslv, her plant had always bent so cheerily toward her. It had not taken Reddy long to find a purchaser. A nice lady; he said, had admired the lily and paid him the two dollars without hesitation. So, securing the lad's promise of secrecy. Nora had given him the money to complete the amount Mrs. Mason remiired. The latter had paid henrent to the astonished agent; and her surprise - ! and gratitude. Reddy said, were 'great.' ' . •'. It was all very pleasant to think about, and Nora experienced a glow of satisfaction at having had a part in procuring so much happiness. Still, the poor girl indulged in a few silent tears as she looked around her bare room. But a sudden knock caused her to brush them . away hastily. • 'Come in!' she called. ;r *' ; • -'« .5- ■>'- . (To be concluded.) "' ; **;,««. h