a ON oP ne TR, Y= EO

The White Lily. 61

 

The blood-red glow of the setting sun behind her

_ lit up all the face of the great cliff with a magic fire,

and among the mountain ash bushes and sprays of
yucca and white feather-grass that adorned its fifty
fissures, she saw the great stately flame-coloured
flower standing beyond all the rest on its ledge of
rock, and seeming to beckon to her with its drooping
head in the breeze.

And, as she gazed, the crimson sunset glowed into
its very heart, and made the tongue of flame within
it quiver like a burning snake in a goblet of shining
jasper.

It was no wonder that little Pearl was éntranced,
for the tiger-lily was a glorious sight, with the sunset
upon him, and when she saw how beautiful he was
she stretched out her hands and gave a little cry.

“JT must reach him somehow,” she cried to herself.
“Tt is a terrible cliff to climb; but I will climb it
somehow, for I must get at him. I must have him
for my own.”

Poor Pearl !