I shall always remember the kindness and sympathy shown her during
those long wearisome days on the train ... the little Catholic
girl at Albuquerque who somehow or other managed to find her way
to our compartment and press into Lillian’s hand a little silver
cross which she said had been specially blessed and would surely
bring an answer to her prayers for her mother.
... At Topeka, Kansas, when the train pulled in, we noticed that
the platform was jammed from end to end with people. We supposed
that they must have come to welcome someone and pulled down the
blinds in the compartment to escape notice. Suddenly we heard raps
on the window and calls for Miss Gish. The conductor appeared,
smiling, to say that all these people had come to see Miss Gish,
some of them had even driven a hundred miles for the purpose.
Tired and heartsick as she was, Lillian went out on the platform
of the train. The moment she appeared, a sudden silence fell on
the crowd—they just stood and looked at her. Then a woman held up
a baby and asked her to touch it “for luck.” That broke up the
formality. They crowded round her, expressing their sympathy and
good wishes, and they were still in the midst of it when the train
pulled out leaving them cheering and waving.
We arrived in New York on the morning of the day the _Majestic_
sailed. When, late that night we went on board the boat, we found
our stateroom filled with people all waiting to see Lillian.
One pleasant young man with an ingratiating smile, insisted upon
bringing in his girl-friend to meet Lillian, who, tired as she
was, still managed to smile at them.
In London, Lillian learned just what had happened: Dorothy had been out
to a play, and had come in quietly and slipped into bed without turning
on the light. Mrs. Gish slept in the other twin bed. Presently, Dorothy
felt something touch her. She spoke softly, but got no answer. She felt
the touch again, and again got no answer. The third time, she snapped on
the light. Her mother could not speak—all her right side was helpless.
Fortunately, Dorothy’s bed had been at her left.
With Lillian’s arrival Mrs. Gish improved. Only the day before she had
not been expected to live. She seemed to recognize her—her eyes grew
large. Every paper had displayed in headlines Lillian’s race across the
world to her mother’s bedside, and the English are a kindly people.
Noble and commoner alike came forward with offered help—all ranks knew
and loved her. Cards, flowers, gifts, poured in.
What was to be done next? Lillian must return to California, or cancel
her contract. What must she—what could she—do? Miss Moir tells what
happened:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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