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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9d44bcb --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53997 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53997) diff --git a/old/53997-0.txt b/old/53997-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0d588b6..0000000 --- a/old/53997-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10936 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hills of Han, by Samuel Merwin - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Hills of Han - A Romantic Incident - -Author: Samuel Merwin - -Illustrator: Walt Louderback - -Release Date: January 18, 2017 [EBook #53997] -Last Updated: May 5, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILLS OF HAN *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - -HILLS OF HAN - -A Romantic Incident - -By Samuel Merwin - -Illustrated by Walt Louderback - -Indianapolis - -The Bobbs. Merrill Company Publishers - -1919 - -[Illustration: 0001] - -[Illustration: 0010] - -[Illustration: 0011] - - - - Hills of Han, - - Slumber on! The sunlight, dying, - - Lingers on your terraced tops; - - Yellow stream and willow sighing, - - Field of twice ten thousand crops - - Breathe their misty lullabying, - - Breathe a life that nei'er stops. - - - Spin your chart of ancient wonder, - - Fold your hands within your sleeve, - - Live and let live, work and ponder, - - Be tradition, dream, believe... - - So abides your ancient plan, - - Hills of Han! - - Hills of Han, - - What's this filament goes leaping - - Pole to pole and hill to hill? - - What these strips of metal creeping - - Where the dead have lain so still. - - What this wilder thought that's seeping - - Where was peace and gentle will? - - - Smoke of mill on road and river, - - Roar of steam by temple wall... - - Drop the arrow in the quiver... - - Bow to Buddha.... All is all! - - Slumber they who slumber can, - - Hills of Han! - - - - -NOTE - -The slight geographical confusion which will be found by the observant -reader in _Hills of Han_ is employed as a reminder that the story, -despite considerable elements of fact in the background, is a work of -the imagination, and deals with no actual individuals of the time and -place. S. M. - - - - - -HILLS OF HAN - - - - -CHAPTER I--THE SOLITARY - - -I - -ON a day in late March, 1907, Miss Betty Doane sat in the quaintly airy -dining-room of the Hotel Miyaka, at Kioto, demurely sketching a man's -profile on the back of a menu card. - -The man, her unconscious model, lounged comfortably alone by one of the -swinging windows. He had finished his luncheon, pushed away his coffee -cup, lighted a cigarette, and settled back to gaze out at the hillside -where young green grasses and gay shrubs and diminutive trees bore -pleasant evidence that the early Japanese springtime was at hand. - -Betty could even see, looking out past the man, a row of cherry trees, -all afoam with blossoms. They brought a thrill that was almost poignant. -It was curious, at home--or, rather, back in the States--there was no -particular thrill in cherry blossoms. They were merely pleasing. But so -much more was said about them here in Japan. - -The man's head was long and well modeled, with a rugged long face, -reflective eyes, somewhat bony nose, and a wide mouth that was, on -the whole, attractive. Both upper lip and chin were dean shaven. The -eyebrows were rather heavy; the hair was thick and straight, slanting -down across a broad forehead. She decided, as she sketched it in with -easy sure strokes of a stubby pencil, that he must have quite a time -every morning brushing that hair down into place. - -He had appeared, a few days back, at the Grand Hotel, Yokohama, coming -in from somewhere north of Tokio. At the hotel he had walked and eaten -alone, austerely. And, not unnaturally, had been whispered about. He -was, Betty knew, a journalist of some reputation. The name was Jonathan -Brachey. He wore an outing suit, with knickerbockers; he was, in -bearing, as in costume, severely conspicuous. You thought of him as a -man of odd attainment. He had been in many interesting corners of the -world; had known danger and privation. Two of his books were in the -ship's library. One of these she had already taken out and secreted in -her cabin. It was called _To-morrow in India_, and proved rather hard to -read, with charts, diagrams and pages of figures. - -The sketch was about done; all but the nose. When you studied that nose -in detail it seemed a little too long and strong, and--well, knobby--to -be as attractive as it actually was. There would be a trick in drawing -it; a shadow or two, a suggestive touch of the pencil; not so many real -knobs. In the ship's diningroom she had his profile across an aisle. -There would be chances to study it. - -Behind her, in the wide doorway, appeared a stout, short woman of fifty -or more, in an ample and wrinkled traveling suit of black and a black -straw hat ornamented only with a bow of ribbon. Her face wore an anxious -expression that had settled, years back, into permanency. The mouth -drooped a little. And the brows were lifted and the forehead grooved -with wrinkles suggesting some long habitual straining of the eyes that -recent bifocal spectacles were powerless to correct. - -“Betty!” called the older woman guardedly. “Would you mind, dear... one -moment...?” - -Her quick, nervous eyes had caught something of the situation. There -was Betty and--within easy earshot--a man. The child was unquestionably -sketching him. - -Betty's eagerly alert young face fell at the sound. She stopped drawing; -for a brief instant chewed the stubby pencil; then, quite meekly, rose -and walked toward the door. - -“Mr. Hasmer is outside. I thought you were with him. Betty.” - -“No... I didn't know your plans... I was waiting here.” - -“Well, my dear... it's all right, of course! But I think we'll go now. -Mr. Hasmer thinks you ought to see at least one of the temples. -Something typical. And of course you will want to visit the cloisonné -and _satsuma_ shops, and see the Damascene work. The train leaves for -Kobe at four-fifteen. The ships sails at about eight, I believe. We -haven't much time, you see.” - -A chair scraped. Jonathan Brachey had picked up his hat, his pocket -camera and his unread copy of the Japan _Times_, and was striding toward -her, or toward the door. He would pass directly by, of course, without -so much as a mental recognition of her existence. For so he had done -at Yokohama; so he had done last evening and again this morning on the -ship. - -But on this occasion, as he bore down on her, the eyes of the -distinguished young man rested for an instant on the table, and for a -brief moment he wavered in his stride. He certainly saw the sketch. It -lay where she had carelessly tossed it, face up, near the edge of the -table. And he certainly recognized it for himself; for his strong facial -muscles moved a very little. It couldn't have been called a smile; but -those muscles distinctly moved. Then, as coolly as before, he strode on -out of the room. - -Betty's cheeks turned crimson. A further fact doubtless noted by this -irritatingly, even arrogantly composed man. - -Betty, with desperate dignity, put the sketch in her wrist bag, followed -Mrs. Hasmer out of the building, and stepped into the rickshaw that -awaited her. - -The brown-legged coolie tucked the robe about her, stepped in between -the shafts of the vehicle; a second coolie fell into place behind, and -they were off down the hill. Just ahead, Mrs. Hasmer's funny little hat -bobbed with the inequalities of the road. Just behind, Doctor Hasmer, -a calm, patient man who taught philosophy and history in a Christian -college fifteen hundred miles or more up the Yangtse River and who never -could remember to have his silvery beard trimmed, smiled kindly at her -when she turned. - -And behind him, indifferent to all the human world, responsive in his -frigid way only to the beauties of the Japanese country-side and of the -quaint, gray-brown, truly ancient city extending up and down the valley -by its narrow, stone-walled stream, rode Mr. Jonathan Brachey. - -The coolies, it would seem, had decided to act in concert. From shop to -shop among the crowded little streets went the four rickshaws. Any mere -human being (so ran Betty's thoughts) would have accepted good-humoredly -the comradeship implied in this arrangement on the part of a playful -fate; but Mr. Brachey was no mere human being. Side by side stood the -four of them in a toy workshop looking down at toy-like artisans with -shaved and tufted heads who wore quaint robes and patiently beat out -designs in gold and silver wire on expertly fashioned bronze boxes and -bowls. They listened as one to the thickly liquid English of a smiling -merchant explaining the processes and expanding on the history of fine -handiwork in this esthetic land. Yet by no sign did Mr. Brachey's face -indicate that he was aware of their presence; except once--on a crooked -stairway in a cloisonné shop he flattened himself against the wall to -let them pass, muttering, almost fiercely, “I beg your pardon!” - -The moment came, apparently, when he could endure this enforced -companionship no longer. He spoke gruffly to his rickshaw coolies, and -rolled off alone. When they finally reached the railway station after a -half-hour spent in wandering about the spacious enclosure of the Temple -of Nishi Otani, with its huge, shadowy gate house, its calm priests, its -exquisite rock garden under ancient mystical trees--the tall journalist -was pacing the platform, savagely smoking a pipe. - -At Kobe they were united again, riding out to the ship's anchorage -in the same launch. But Mr. Brachey gave no sign of recognition. He -disappeared the moment of arrival at the ship, reappearing only when -the bugle announced dinner, dressed, as he had been each evening at the -Grand Hotel and the previous evening on the ship, rather stiffly, in -dinner costume. - -Then the ship moved out from her anchorage into that long, -island-studded, green-bordered body of water known as the Inland Sea -of Japan. Early on the second morning she would slip in between the -closepressing hills that guard Nagasaki harbor. There another day -ashore. Then three days more across the Yellow Sea to Shanghai. Thence, -for the Hasmers and Betty, a five-day journey by steamer up the muddy -but majestic Yangtze Kiang to Hankow; at which important if hardly -charming city they would separate, the Hasmers to travel on by other, -smaller steamer to Ichang and thence on up through the Gorges to their -home among the yellow folk of Szechwan, while Hetty, from Hankow, must -set out into an existence that her highly colored young mind found it -impossible to face squarely. As yet, despite the long journey across -the American continent and the Pacific, she hadn't begun so much as to -believe the facts. Though there they stood, squarely enough, before her. -It had been easier to surrender her responsive, rather easily gratified -emotions to a day-by-day enjoyment of the journey itself. When the -constant, worried watchfulness of Mrs. Hasmer reached the point of -annoyance--not that Mrs. Hasmer wasn't an old dear; kindness itself, -especially if your head ached or you needed a little mothering!--why -then, with the easy adaptability and quick enthusiasm of youth, she -simply busied herself sketching. The top layer of her steamer trunk was -nearly full now--sketches of the American desert, of the mountains and -San Francisco, of people on the ship, of the sea and of Honolulu. - -But now, with Yokohama back among the yesterdays and Kobe falling -rapidly, steadily astern, Betty's heart was as rapidly and as steadily -sinking. Only one more stop, and then--China. In China loomed the facts. - -That night, lying in her berth, Betty, forgot the cherry blossoms of -Kioto and the irritating Mr. Brachey. Her thoughts dwelt among the young -friends, the boy-and-girl “crowd,” she had left behind, far off, at the -other edge of those United States that by a queerly unreal theory were -her home-land. And, very softly, she cried herself to sleep. - - - -2 - -Betty Doane was just nineteen. She was small, quick to feel and think, -dark rather than light (though not an out-and-out brunette). She was -distinctly pretty. Her small head with its fine and abundant hair, round -face with its ever-ready smile, alert brown eyes and curiously strong -little chin expressed, as did her slim quick body, a personality of -considerable sprightly vigor and of a charm that could act on certain -other sorts of personalities, particularly of the opposite sex, with -positive, telling effect. - -Mrs. Hasmer, who had undertaken, with misgivings, to bring her from -suburban New Jersey to Hankow, found her a heavy responsibility. It -wasn't that the child was insubordinate, forward, or, in anyway that you -could blame her for, difficult. On the contrary, she was a dear little -thing, kind, always amusing, eager to please. But none the less there -was something, a touch of vital quality, perhaps of the rare gift of -expressiveness, that gave her, at times, a rather alarming aspect. Her -clothes were simple enough--Griggsby Doane, goodness knew, couldn't -afford anything else--but in some way that Mrs. Hasmer would never fully -understand, the child always managed to make them look better than they -were. She had something of the gift of smartness. She had, Mrs. Hasmer -once came out with, “too much imagination.” The incessant sketching, for -instance. And she did it just a shade too well. Then, too, evening after -evening during the three weeks on the Pacific, she had danced. Which -was, from the only daughter of Griggsby Doane--well, confusing. And -though Mrs. Hasmer, balked by the delicacy of her position, had gone -to lengths in concealing her disapproval, she had been unable to feign -surprise at the resulting difficulties. Betty had certainly not been -deliberate in leading on any of the men on the ship; young men, by the -way that you had no means of looking up, even so far as the certainty -that they were unmarried. But the young mining engineer on his way to -Korea had left quite heart-broken. From all outer indications he had -proposed marriage and met with a refusal. But not a word, not a hint, -not so much as a telltale look, came from Betty. - -Mrs. Hasmer sighed over it. She would have liked to know. She came to -the conclusion that Betty had been left just a year or so too long in -the States. They weren't serious over there, in the matter of training -girls for the sober work of life. Prosperity, luxury, were telling on -the younger generations. No longer were they guarded from dangerously -free thinking. They read, heard, saw everything; apparently knew -everything. They read openly, of a Sunday, books which, a generation -earlier, would not have reached their eyes even on a week-day. The -church seemed to have lost its hold (though she never spoke aloud of -this fact). Respect for tradition and authority had crumbled away. They -questioned, weighed everything, these modern children.... Mrs. Hasmer -worried a good deal, out in China, about young people in the States. - -But under these surface worries, lurked, in the good woman's mind, a -deeper, more real worry. Betty was just stepping over the line between -girlhood and young womanhood. She was growing more attractive daily. She -was anything but fitted to step into the life that lay ahead. Wherever -she turned, even now--as witness the Pacific ship--life took on fresh -complications. Indeed, Mrs. Hasmer, pondering the problem, came down on -the rather strong word, peril. A young girl--positive in attractiveness, -gifted, spirited, motherless (as it happened), trained only to be happy -in living--was in something near peril. - -One fact which Mrs. Hasmer's mind had been forced to accept was that -most of the complications came from sources or causes with which the -girl herself had little consciously to do. She was flatly the sort of -person to whom things happened. Even when her eager interest in life and -things and men (young and old) was not busy. - -In the matter of the rather rude young man in knickerbockers, at Kioto, -Betty was to blame, of course. She had set to work to sketch him. -Evidently. The most you could say for her on that point was that she -would have set just as intently at sketching an old man, or a woman, -or a child--or a corner of the room. Mrs. Hasmer had felt, while on the -train to Kobe, that she must speak of the matter. After all, she had -that deathly responsibility on her shoulders. Betty's only explanation, -rather gravely given, had been that she found his nose interesting. - -The disturbing point was that something in the way of a situation was -sure to develop from the incident. Something. Six weeks of Betty made -that a reasonable assumption. And the first complication would arise in -some quite unforeseen way. Betty wouldn't bring it about. Indeed, she -had quickly promised not to sketch him any more. - -This is the way it did arise. At eleven on the following morning Mr. and -Mrs. Hasmer and Betty were stretched out side by side in their steamer -chairs, sipping their morning beef tea and looking out at the rugged -north shore of the Inland Sea. Beyond Betty were three vacant chairs, -then this Mr. Brachey--his long person wrapped in a gay plaid rug. -He too was sipping beef tea and enjoying the landscape; if so dry, -so solitary a person could be said to enjoy anything. A note-book lay -across his knees. - -Mrs. Hasmer had thought, with a momentary flutter of concern, of moving -Betty to the other side of Doctor Hasmer. But that had seemed foolish. -Making too much of it. Betty hadn't placed the chairs; the deck steward -had done that. Besides she hadn't once looked at the man; probably -hadn't thought of him; had been quite absorbed in her sketching--bits of -the hilly shore, an island mirrored in glass, a becalmed junk. - -A youngish man, hatless, with blond curls and a slightly professional -smile, came up from the after hatch and advanced along the deck, eagerly -searching the row of rug-wrapped, recumbent figures in deck chairs. -Before the Hasmers he stopped with delighted greetings. It came out -that he was a Mr. Harting, a Y. M. C. A. worker in Bttrmah, traveling -second-class. - -“I hadn't seen the passenger list, Mrs. Hasmer, and didn't know you were -aboard. But there's a Chinese boy sitting next to me at table. He has -put in a year or so at Tokio University, and speaks a little English. He -comes from your city, Miss Doane. Or so he seems to think. T'ainan-fu.” - -Betty inclined her head. - -“It was he who showed me the passenger list. At one time, he says, he -lived in your father's household.” - -“What is his name?” asked Betty politely. - -“Li Hsien--something or other.” Mr. Harting was searching his pockets -for a copy of the list. - -“I knew Li Hsien very well,” said Betty. “We used to play together.” - -“So I gathered. May I bring him up here to see you?” - -Betty would have replied at once in the affirmative, but six weeks of -companionship with Mrs. Hasmer had taught her that such decisions were -not expected of her. So now with a vague smile of acquiescence, she -directed the inquiry to the older woman. - -“Certainly,” cried Mrs. Hasmer, “do bring him!” - -As he moved away, Betty, before settling back in her chair, glanced, -once, very demurely, to her left, where Jonathan Brachey lay in what -might have been described, from outer appearances, supercilious comfort. - -He hadn't so much as lifted an eyelid. He wasn't listening. He didn't -care. It was nothing to him that Betty Doane was no idle, spoiled girl -tourist, nothing that she could draw with a gifted pencil, nothing that -she knew Chinese students at Tokio University, and herself lived at -T'ainan-fu!... It wasn't that Betty consciously formulated any such -thoughts. But the man had an effect on her; made her uncomfortable; she -wished he'd move his chair around to the other side of the ship. - -3 - -Li Hsien proved to be quite a young man, all of twenty or twenty-one. -He had spectacles now, and gold in his teeth. He wore the conventional -blue robe, Liack skull-cap with red button, and queue. More than four -years were yet to elapse before the great revolution of 1911, with its -wholesale queue-cutting and its rather frantic adoption, on the part of -the better-to-do, of Western clothing--or, rather, of what they supposed -was Western clothing.... He was tall, slim, smiling. He shook hands with -Betty, Western fashion; and bowed with courtly dignity to Doctor and -Mrs. Hasmer. - -His manner had an odd effect on Betty. For six years now she had lived -in Orange. She had passed through the seventh and eighth grades of the -public school and followed that with a complete course of four years in -high school. She had fallen naturally and whole-heartedly into the life -of a nice girl in an American suburb. She had gone to parties, joined -societies, mildly entangled herself with a series of boy admirers. -Despite moderate but frank poverty she had been popular. And in this -healthy, active young life she had very nearly forgotten the profoundly -different nature of her earlier existence. But now that earlier feeling -for life was coming over her like a wave. After all, her first thirteen -years had been lived out in a Chinese city. And they were the most -impressionable years. - -It was by no means a pleasant sensation. She had never loved China; had -simply endured it, knowing little else. America she loved. It was of -her blood, of her instinct. But now it was abruptly slipping out of her -grasp--school, home, the girls, the boys, long evenings of chatter and -song on a “front porch,” picnics on that ridge known locally as “the -mountain,” matinées in New York, glorious sunset visions of high -buildings from a ferry-boat, a thrilling, ice-caked river in -winter-time, the misty beauties of the Newark meadows--all this was -curiously losing its vividness in her mind, and drab old China was -slipping stealthily but swiftly into its place. - -She knit her brows. She was suddenly helpless, in a poignantly -disconcerting way. A word came--rootless. That was it; she was rootless. -For an instant she had to fight back the tears that seldom came in the -daytime. - -But then she looked again at Li Hsien. - -He was smiling. It came to her, fantastically, that he, too, was -rootless. And yet he smiled. She knew, instantly, that his feelings were -quite as fine as hers. He was sensitive, strung high. He had been that -sort of boy. For that matter the Chinese had been a cultured people when -the whites were crude barbarians. She knew that. She couldn't have put -it into words, but she knew it. And so she, too, smiled. And when she -spoke, asking him to sit in the vacant chair next to her, she spoke -without a thought, in Chinese, the middle Hansi dialect. - -And then Mr. Jonathan Brachey looked up, turned squarely around and -stared at her for one brief instant. After which he recollected himself -and turned abruptly back. - -Mr. Harting dropped down on the farther side of Doctor Hasmer. Which -left his good wife between the two couples, each now deep in talk. - -Mrs. Hasmer's Chinese vocabulary was confined to a limited number of -personal and household terms; and even these were in the dialect of -eastern Szechwan. Just as a matter of taste, of almost elementary taste, -it seemed to her that Betty should keep the conversation, or most of -it, in English. She went so far as to lean over the arm of her chair and -smile in a perturbed manner at the oddly contrasting couple who chatted -so easily and pleasantly in the heathen tongue. She almost reached the -point of speaking to Betty; gently, of course. But the girl clearly had -no thought of possible impropriety. She was laughing now--apparently at -some gap in her vocabulary--and the bland young man with the spectacles -and the pigtail was humorously supplying the proper word. - -Mrs. Hasmer decided not to speak. She lay hack in her chair. The -wrinkles in her forehead deepened a little. On the other side Mr. -Halting was describing enthusiastically a new and complicated table -that was equipped with every imaginable device for the demonstrating -of experiments in physics to Burmese youth. It could be packed, he -insisted, for transport from village to village, in a crate no larger -than the table itself. - -And now, again, she caught the musical intonation of the young Chinaman. -Betty, surprisingly direct and practical in manner if unintelligible in -speech, was asking questions, which Li Hsien answered in turn, easily, -almost languidly, but with unfailing good nature. Though there were a -few moments during which he spoke rapidly and rather earnestly. - -Mrs. Hasmer next became aware of the odd effect the little scene was -plainly having on Jonathan Brachey. He fidgeted in his chair; got up -and stood at the rail; paced the deck, twice passing close to the -comfortably extended feet of the Hasmer party and so ostentatiously -_not_ looking at them as to distract momentarily the attention even of -the deeply engrossed Betty. Mr. Harting, even, looked up. After all of -which the man, looking curiously stern, or irritated, or (Betty decided) -something unpleasant, sat again in his chair. - -Then, a little later, Mr. Harting and Li Hsien took their leave and -returned to the second-class quarters, astern. - -Mrs. Hasmer thought, for a moment, that perhaps now was the time to -suggest that English be made the common tongue in the future. But -Betty's eager countenance disarmed her. She sighed. And sighed again; -for the girl, stirred by what she was saying, had unconsciously raised -her voice. And that tall man was listening. - -“It's queer how fast things are changing out here,” thus Betty. “Li -Hsien is--you'd never guess!--a Socialist! I asked him why he isn't -staying out the year at Tokio University, and he said he was called -home to help the Province. Think of it--that boy! They've got into some -trouble over a foreign mining syndicate--” - -“The Ho Shan Company,” explained Doctor Hasmer. - -Betty nodded. - -“They've been operating rather extensively in Plonan and southern -Chihli,” the educator continued, “and I heard last year that they've -made a fresh agreement with the Imperial Government giving them -practically a monopoly of the coal and iron mining up there in the Hansi -Hills.” - -“Yes, Doctor Hasmer, and he says that there's a good deal of feeling -in the province. They've had one or two mass meetings of the gentry and -people. He thinks they'll send a protest to Peking. He believes that the -company got the agreement through bribery.” - -“Not at all unlikely,” remarked Doctor Hasmer mildly. “I don't know -that any other way has yet been discovered of obtaining commercial -privileges from the Imperial Government. The Ho Shan Company is... let -me see... as I recall, it was organized by that Italian promoter, -Count Logatti. I believe he went to Germany, Belgium and France for the -capital.” - -“Li has become an astonishing young man,” said Betty more gravely. “He -talks about revolutions and republics. He doesn't think the Manchus can -last much longer. The southern provinces are ready for the revolution -now, he says--” - -“That,” remarked Doctor Hasmer, “is a little sweeping.” - -“Li is very sweeping,” replied Betty. “And he's going back now to -T'ainan-fu for some definite reason. I couldn't make out what. I asked -if he would be coming in to see father, and he said, probably not; that -there wouldn't be any use in it. Then I asked him if he was still a -Christian, and I think he laughed at me. He wouldn't say.” - -The conversation was broken by the appearance of a pleasant Englishman, -an importer of silks, by the name of Obie. He had been thrown with the -Hasmers and Betty in one of their sight-seeing jaunts about Tokio. -Mr. Obie wore spats, and a scarf pin and cuff links of human bone from -Borneo set in circlets of beaded gold. His light, usually amusing talk -was liberally sprinkled with crisp phrases in pidgin-English. - -He spoke now of the beauties of the Inland Sea, and resumed his stroll -about the deck. After a few turns, he went into the smoking-room. - -Jonathan Brachey, still with that irritably nervous manner, watched him -intently; finally got up and followed him, passing the Hasmers and Betty -with nose held high. - -4 - -It was early afternoon, when Mrs. Hasmer and Betty were dozing in their -chairs, that Mr. Obie, looking slightly puzzled, came again to them. He -held a card between thumb and forefinger. - -“Miss Doane,” he said, “this gentleman asks permission to be presented.” - -Mrs. Hasmer's hand went out a little way to receive the card; but Betty -innocently took it. - -“Mr. Jonathan Brachey,” she read aloud. Then added, with a pretty touch -of color--“But how funny! He was with us yesterday, and _wouldn't_ talk. -And now....” - -“My go catchee?” asked Mr. Obie. - -To which little pleasantry Betty responded, looking very bright and -pretty, with--“Can do!” - -“She gives out too much,” thought Mrs. Hasmer; deciding then and there -that the meeting should be brief and the conversation triangular. - -Mr. Obie brought him, formally, from the smoking-room. - -He bowed stiffly. Betty checked her natural impulse toward a hearty -hard-grip. - -Mrs. Hasmer, feeling hurried, a thought breathless, meant to offer him -her husband's chair; but all in the moment Betty had him down beside -her. - -Then came stark silence. The man stared out at the islands. - -Betty, finding her portfolio on her lap, fingered it. Then this: - -“I must begin, Miss Doane, with an apology....” - -Betty's responsive face blanched. “What a dreadful man!” she thought. -His voice was rather strong, dry, hard, with, even, a slight rasp in it. - -But he drove heavily on: - -“This morning, while not wishing to appear as an eavesdropper... that is -to say... the fact is, Miss Doane, I am a journalist, and am at present -on my way to China to make an investigation of the political--one might -even term it the social--unrest that appears to be cropping out rather -extensively in the southern provinces and even, a little here and there, -in the North.” - -He was dreadful! Stilted, clumsy, slow! He hunted painstakingly for -words; and at each long pause Betty's quick young nerves tightened and -tightened, mentally groping with him until the hunted word was run to -earth. - -He was pounding on: - -“This morning I overheard you talking with that young Chinaman. It is -evident that you speak the language.” - -“Oh. yes,” Betty found herself saying, “I do.” - -Not a word about the drawing. - -“This young man, I gather, is in sympathy with the revolutionary -spirit.” - -“He--he seems to be,” said Betty. - -“Now... Miss Doane... this is of course an imposition...” - -“Oh, no,” breathed Betty weakly. - -“... it is, of course, an imposition... it would be a service I could -perhaps never repay...” This pause lasted so long that she heard herself -murmuring, “No, really, not at all!”--and then felt the color creeping -to her face... but if I might ask you to... but let me put it in this -way--the young man is precisely the type I have come out here to study. -You speak in the vernacular, and evidently understand him almost as a -native might. It is unlikely I shall find in China many such natural -interpreters as yourself. And of course... if it is thinkable that you -would be so extremely kind as to... why, of course, I...” - -“Heavens!” thought Betty, in a panic, “he's going to offer to pay me. I -mustn't be rude.” - -The man plodded on: “... why, of course, it would be a real pleasure to -mention your assistance in the preface of my book.” - -It was partly luck, luck and innate courtesy, that she didn't laugh -aloud. She broke, as it was, into words, saving herself and the -situation. - -“You want me to act as interpreter? Of course Li knows a little -English.” - -“Would he--er--know enough English for serious conversation?” - -“No,” mused Betty aloud, “I don't think he would.” - -“Of course, Miss Doane, I quite realize that to take up your time in -this way....” - -There he stopped. He was frowning now, and apparently studying out the -structural details of a huge junk that lay only a few hundred yards -away, reflected minutely, exquisitely--curving hull and deck cargo, -timbered stern, bat-wing sails--in the glass-like water. - -“I'll be glad to do what I can,” said Betty, helplessly. Then, for -the first time, she became aware that Mrs. Hasmer was stirring -uncomfortably on her other hand, and added, quickly, as much out of -nervousness as anything else--“We could arrange to have Li come up here -in the morning.” - -“We shall be coaling at Nagasaki in the morning,” said he, abruptly, as -if that settled _that_. - -“Well, of course,... this afternoon.... - -“My dear,” began Mrs. Hasmer. - -“This afternoon would be better.” Thus Mr. Brachey. “Though I can not -tell you what hesitation...” - -“I suppose we could find a quiet corner somewhere,” said Betty. “In the -social hall, perhaps.” - -It was then, stirred to positive act, that Mrs. Hasmer spoke out. - -“I think you'd better stay out here with us, my dear.” - -To which the hopelessly self-absorbed Mr. Brachey replied: - -“I really must have quiet for this work. We will sit inside, if you -don't mind.” - -5 - -At half past four Mrs. Hasmer sent her husband to look into the -situation. He reported that they were hard at it. Betty looked a little -tired, but was laboriously repeating Li Hsien's words, in English, in -order that Mr. Brachcy might take them down in what appeared to be a -sort of shorthand. Doctor Hasmer didn't see how he could say anything. -Not very well. They hadn't so much as noticed him, though he stood near -by for a few moments. - -Which report Mrs. Hasmer found masculine and unsatisfactory. At five she -went herself; took her Battenberg hoop and sat near by. Betty saw her, -and smiled. She looked distinctly a little wan. - -The journalist ignored Mrs. Hasmer. He was a merciless driver. Whenever -Betty's attention wandered, as it had begun doing, he put his questions -bruskly, even sharply, to call her back to the task. - -Four bells sounded, up forward. Mrs. Hasmer started; and, as always when -she heard the ship's bell, consulted her watch. Six o'clock!... She put -down her hoop; fidgetted; got up; sat down again; told herself she must -consider the situation calmly. It must be taken in hand, of course. -The man was a mannerless brute. He had distinctly encroached. He would -encroach further. He must be met firmly, at once. She tried to think -precisely how he could be met. - -She got up again; stood over them. She didn't know that her face was a -lens through which any and all might read her perturbed spirit. - -Betty glanced up; smiled faintly; drew a long breath. - -Li Hsien rose and bowed, clasping his hands before his breast. - -Mr. Bradley was writing. - -Mrs. Hasmer had tried to construct a little speech that, however final, -would meet the forms of courtesy. It left her now. She said with blank -firmness: - -“Come, Betty!” - -“One moment!” protested Mr. Brachey. “Will you please ask him, Miss -Duane, whether he believes that the general use of opium has appreciably -lowered the vitality of the Chinese people? That is, to put it -conversely, whether the curtailment of production is going to leave a -people too weakened to act strongly in a military or even political -way? Surveying the empire as a whole, of course.” - -Betty's thoughts, which had wandered hopelessly afield, came struggling -back. - -“I--I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm afraid I didn't quite hear.” - -“I must ask you to come with me, Betty,” said Mrs. Hasmer. - -At this, looking heavily disappointed, Mr. Brachey rose; ran a long bony -hand through his thick hair. - -“We could take it up in the morning,” he said, turning from the bland -young Chinaman to the plainly confused girl. “That is, if Miss Doane -wouldn't mind staying on the ship. I presume she has seen Nagasaki.” - -His perturbed eyes moved at last to the little elderly lady who had -seemed so colorless and mild; met hers, which were, of a sudden, -snapping coals. - -“You will not take it up again, sir!” cried Mrs. Hasmer; and left with -the girl. - -The Chinaman smiled, clasped his hands, bowed with impenetrable -courtesy, and withdrew' to his quarters. - -Mr. Brachey, alone, looked over his notes with a frown; shook his head; -went down to dress for dinner. - -6 - -Late that night Betty sat in her tiny stateroom, indulging rebellious -thoughts. It was time, after an awkwardly silent evening, to go to bed. -But instead she now slipped into her heavy traveling coat, pulled on her -tam-o'-shanter, tiptoed past the Hasmers' door and went out on deck. - -It was dim and peaceful there. The throb of the engines and the wash of -water along the hull were the only sounds. They were in the strait now, -heading out to sea. - -She walked around the deck, and around. It was her first free -moment since they left the Pacific ship at Yokohama. After that very -quietly--sweetly, even--the chaperonage of Mrs. Hasmer had tightened. -For Betty the experience was new and difficult. She felt that she ought -to submit. But the rebellion in her breast, if wrong, was real. She -would walk it off. - -Then she met Mr. Brachey coming out of the smoking-room. Both stopped. - -“Oh!” said he. - -“I was just getting a breath of air,” said she. - -Then they moved to the rail and leaned there, gazing off at the faintly -moonlit land. - -He asked, in his cold way, how she had learned Chinese. - -“I was born at T'ainan-fu,” she explained. “My father is a missionary.” - -“Oh,” said he. And again, “Oh!” - -Then they fell silent. Her impulse at first was to make talk. She did -murmur, “I really ought to be going in.” But he, apparently, found talk -unnecessary. And she stayed on, looking now down at the iridescent foam -slipping past the black hull, now up into the luminous night. - -Then he remarked, casually, “Shall we walk?” And she found herself -falling into step with him. - -They stopped, a little later, up forward and stood looking out over the -forecastle deck. - -“Some day I'm going to ask the chief officer to let me go out there,” - said she. - -“It isn't necessary to ask him,” replied Mr. Brachey. “Come along.” - -“Oh,” murmured Betty, half in protest--“really?” But she went, thrilled -now, more than a little guilty, down the steps, past hatches and donkey -engines, up other steps, under and over a tangle of cables, over an -immense anchor, to seats on coils of rope near the very bow. - -The situation amounted already to a secret. Mrs. Hasmer couldn't be -told, mused Betty. The fact was a little perplexing. But it stood. - -Neither had mentioned Mrs. Hasmer. But now he said: - -“I was rude to-day, of course.” - -“No,” said she. “No.” - -“Oh, yes! I'm that way. The less I see of people the better.” - -This touched the half-fledged woman in her. - -“You're interested in your work,” said she gently. “That's all. And it's -right. You're not a trifler.” - -“I'm a lone wolf.” - -She was beginning to find him out-and-out interesting. - -“You travel a good deal,” she ventured demurely. “All the time. I prefer -it.” - -“Always alone?” - -“Always.” - -“You don't get lonesome?” - -“Oh, yes. But what does it matter?” - -She considered this. “You go into dangerous places.” - -“Oh, yes.” - -“You traveled among the head-hunters of Borneo.” - -“How did you find that out?” - -“There's an advertisment of that book in _To-morrow in India_.” - -“Oh, have you read that thing?” - -“Part of it. I...” - -“You found it dull.” - -“Well... it's a little over my head.” - -“It's over everybody's. Mine.” - -She nearly laughed at this. But he seemed not to think of it as humor. - -“Aren't you a little afraid, sometimes--going into such dangerous places -all alone?” - -“Oh, no.” - -“But you might be hurt--or even--killed.” - -“What's the difference?” - -Startled, she looked straight up at him; then dropped her eyes. She -waited for him to explain, but he was gazing moodily out at the water -ahead. - -The soft night air wrapped them about like dream-velvet. Adventure was -astir, and romance. Betty, enchanted, looked lazily back at the white -midships decks, bridge and wheelhouse, at the mysterious rigging and -raking masts, at the foremost of the huge funnels pouring out great -rolling clouds of smoke. The engines throbbed and throbbed. Back there -somewhere the ship's bell struck, eight times for midnight. - -“I don't care much for missionaries,” said Mr. Brachey. - -“You'd like father.” - -“Perhaps.” - -“He's a wonderful man. He's six feet five. And strong.” - -“It's a job for little men. Little souls. With little narrow eyes.” - -“Oh... No!” - -“Why try to change the Chinese? Their philosophy is finer than ours. And -works better. I like them.” - -“So do I. But...” She wished her father could be there to meet the man's -talk. There must surely be strong arguments on the missionary side, if -one only knew them. She finally came out with: - -“But they're heathen!” - -“Oh, yes!” - -“They're--they're polygamous!” - -“Why not?” - -“But Mr. Brachey...” She couldn't go on with this. The conversation was -growing rather alarming. - -“So are the Americans polygamous. And the other white peoples. Only -they call it by other names. You get tired of it. The Chinese are more -honest.” - -“I wonder,” said she, suddenly steady and shrewd, “if you haven't stayed -away too long.” - -His reply was: - -“Perhaps.” - -“If you live--you know, all by yourself, and for nobody in the world -except yourself--I mean, if there's nobody you're responsible for, -nobody you love and take care of and suffer for...” The sentence was -getting something involved. She paused, puckering her brows. - -“Well?” said he. - -“Why, I only meant, isn't there danger of a person like that -becoming--well, just selfish.” - -“I am selfish.” - -“But you don't want to be.” - -“Oh. but I do!” - -“I can hardly believe that.” - -“Dependence on others is as bad as gratitude. It is a demand, a -weakness. Strength is better. If each of us stood selfishly alone, it -would be a cleaner, better world. There wouldn't be any of this mess of -obligation, one to another. No running up of spiritual debt. And that's -the worst kind.” - -“But suppose,” she began, a little afraid of getting into depths from -which it might be difficult to extreate herself, “suppose--well, you -were married, and there were--well, little children. Surely you'd have -to feel responsible for them.” - -“Surely,” said he curtly, “it isn't necessary for every man to bring -children 'nto the world. Surely that's not the only job.” - -“But--but take another case. Suppose you had a friend, a younger man, -and he was in trouble--drinking, maybe; anything!--wouldn't you feel -responsible for him?” - -“Not at all. That's the worst kind of dependence. The only battles a -man wins are the ones he wins alone. If any friend of mine--man or -woman--can't win his own battles--or hers--he or she had better go. -Anywhere. To hell, if it comes to that.” - -He quite took her breath away. - -One bell sounded. - -“It's perfectly dreadful,” said she. “If Mrs. Has-mer knew I was out -here at this time of night, she'd...” - -This sentence died out. They went back. - -“Good night,” said she. - -She felt that he must think her very young and simple. It seemed odd -that he should waste so much time on her. No other man she had ever met -was like him. Hesitantly, desiring at least a touch of friendliness, on -an impulse, she extended her hand. - -He took it; held it a moment firmly; then said: - -“Will you give me that drawing?” - -“Yes,” said she. - -“Now?” - -“Yes.” And she tiptoed twice again past the Hasmers' door. - -“Please sign it,” said he, and produced a pencil. “But it seems so -silly. I mean, it's nothing, this sketch.” - -“Please!” - -She signed it, said good night again, and hurried off, her heart in a -curious flutter. - - - - -CHAPTER II--ROMANCE - -I - -UNWILLING either to confess like a naughty child or to go on keeping -this rather large and distinctly exciting secret under cover, Betty, -at teatime, brought the matter to an issue. The morning ashore had been -difficult. Mr. Brachey had severely ignored her, going about Nagasaki -alone, lunching in austere solitude at the hotel. - -She said, settling herself in the deck chair: - -“Mrs. Hasmer, will you ask Mr. Brachey to have tea with us?” - -After a long silence the older woman asked, stiffly: “Why, my dear?” - -Betty compressed her lips. - -Doctor Hasmer saved the situation by saying quietly, “I'll ask him.” - -It was awkward from the first. The man was angular and unyielding. -And Mrs. Hasmer, though she tried, couldn't let him alone. She was -determined to learn whether he was married. She led up to the direct -question more otariously than she knew. Finally it came. They were -speaking of his announced plan to travel extensively in the interior of -China. - -“It must be quite delightful to wander as you do,” she said. “Of course, -if one has ties... you, I take it, are an unmarried man, Mr. Brachey ?” - -Betty had to lower her face to hide the color that came. If only Mrs. -Hasmer had a little humor! She was a dear kind woman; but this!... - -The journalist looked, impassively enough, but directly, at his -questioner. - -She met his gaze. They were flint on steel, these two natures. - -“You are obviously not married,” she repeated. - -He looked down at his teacup; thinking. Then, abruptly, he set it down -on the deck, got up, muttered something that sounded like, “If you will -excuse me...” and strode away. - -Betty went early to her cabin that evening. - -She had no more than switched on her light when the Chinese steward came -with a letter. - -She locked the door then, and looked at the unfamiliar handwriting. It -was small, round, clear; the hand of a particular man, a meticulous man. -who has written much with a pen. - -She turned down the little wicker seat. Her cheeks were suddenly hot, -her pulse bounding high. - -She skimmed it, at first, clear to the signature, “Jonathan Brachey”; -then went back and read it through, slowly. - -“I was rude again just now,” (it began). “As I told you last night, it -is best for me not to see people. I am not a social being. Clearly, from -this time on, it will be impossible for me to talk with this Mrs. -Hasmer. I shall not try again. - -“I could not answer her question. But to you I must speak. It would be -difficult even to do this if we were to meet again, and talk. But, -as you will readily see, we must not meet again, beyond the merest -greeting. - -“I was married four years ago. After only a few weeks my wife left -me. The reasons she gave were so flippant as to be absurd. She was a -beautiful and, it has seemed to me, a vain, spoiled, quite heartless -woman. I have not seen her since. Two years ago she became infatuated -with another man, and wrote asking me to consent to a divorce. I refused -on the ground that I did not care to enter into the legal intrigues -preliminary to a divorce in the state of her residence. Since then, I am -told, she has changed her residence to a state in which 'desertion' is -a legal ground. But I have received no word of any actual move on her -part. - -“It is strange that I should be writing thus frankly to you. Strange, -and perhaps wrong. But you have reached out to me more of a helping hand -than you will ever know. Our talk last night meant a great deal to me. -To you I doubtless seemed harsh and forbidding. It is true that I am -that sort of man, and therefore am best alone. It is seldom that I meet -a person with whom my ideas are in agreement. - -“I trust that you will find every happiness in life. You deserve to. You -have the great gift of feeling. I could almost envy you that. It is a -quality I can perceive without possessing. An independent mind, a strong -gift of logic, stands between me and all human affection. I must say -what I think, not what I feel. - -“I make people unhappy. The only corrective to such a nature is work, -and, whenever possible, solitude. But I do not solicit your pity. I find -myself, my thoughts, excellent company. - -“With your permission I will keep the drawing. It will have a peculiar -and pleasant meaning to me.” - -2 - -Betty lowered the letter, breathing out the single word, “Well!” - -What on earth could she have said or done to give him any such footing -in her life? - -She read it again. And then again. - -An amazing man! - -She made, ready to go to bed, slowly, dawdling, trying to straighten out -the curious emotional pressures on her mind. - -She read the letter yet again; considered it. - -Finally, after passing through many moods leading up to a tender -sympathy for this bleak life, and then passing on into a state of sheer -nervous excitement, she deliberately dressed again and went out on deck. - -He stood by the rail, smoking. - -“You have my letter?” he asked. - -“Yes. I've read it.” She was oddly, happily relieved at finding him. - -“You shouldn't have come.” - -She had no answer to this. It seemed hardly relevant. She smiled, in the -dark. - -They fell to walking the deck. After a time, shyly, tacitly, a little -embarrassed, they went up forward again. - -The ship was well out in the Yellow Sea now. The bow rose and fell -slowly, rhythmically, beneath them. - -Moved to meet his letter with a response in kind, she talked of herself. - -“It seems strange to be coming back to China.” - -“You've been long away?” - -“Six years. My mother died when I was thirteen. Father thought it would -be better for me to be in the States. My uncle, father's brother, was -in the wholesale hardware business in New York, and lived in Orange, and -they took me in. They were always nice to me. But last fall Uncle Frank -came down with rheumatic gout. He's an invalid now. It must have been -pretty expensive. And there was some trouble in his business. They -couldn't very well go on taking care of me, so father decided to have me -come back to T'ainan-fu.” She folded her hands in her lap. - -He lighted his pipe, and smoked reflectively. - -“That will be rather hard for you, won't it?” he remarked, after a time. -“I mean for a person of your temperament. You are, I should say, almost -exactly my opposite in every respect. You like people, friends. You are -impulsive, doubtless affectionate. I could be relatively happy, marooned -among a few hundred millions of yellow folk--though I could forego the -missionaries. But you are likely, I should think, to be starved there. -Spiritually--emotionally.” - -“Do you think so?” said she quietly. - -“Yes.” He thought it, over “The life of a mission compound isn't exactly -gay.” - -“No, it isn't.” - -“And you need gaiety.” - -“I wonder if I do. I haven't really faced it, of course. I'm not facing -it now.” - -“Just think a moment. You've not even landed in China yet. You're under -no real restraint--still among white people, on a white man's ship, -eating in European hotels at the ports. You aren't teaching endless -lessons to yellow children, day in, day out. You aren't shut up in an -interior city, where it mightn't even he safe for you to step outside -the gate house alone. And yet you're breaking bounds. Right now--out -here with me.” - -Already she was taking his curious bluntness for granted. She said now, -simply, gently: - -“I know. I'm sitting out here at midnight with a married man. And I -don't seem to mind. Of course you're not exactly married. Still... A few -days ago I wouldn't have thought it possible.” - -“Did you tell the Hasmers that you were out here last night?” - -“No.” - -“Shall you tell them about this?” - -She thought a moment; then, as simply, repeated: “No.” - -“Why not?” - -“I don't know. It's the way I feel.” - -He nodded. “You feel it's none of their business.” - -“Well--yes.” - -“Of course, I ought to take you back, now.” - -“I don't feel as if I were doing wrong. Oh, a little, but...” - -“I ought to take you back.” - -She rested a hand on his arm. It was no more than a girlish gesture. She -didn't notice that he set his teeth and sat very still. - -“I've thought this, though,” she said. “If I'm to meet you out here -like--like this--” - -“But you're not to.” - -“Well... here we are!” - -“Yes... here we are!” - -“I was going to say, it's dishonest, I think, for us to avoid each other -during the day. If we're friends...” - -“If we're friends we'd better admit it.” - -“Yes. I meant that.” - -He fell to working at his pipe with a pocket knife She watched him until -he was smoking again. - -“Mrs. Hasmer won't like it.” - -“I can't help that.” - -“No. Of course.” He smoked. Suddenly he broke out, with a gesture so -vehement that it startled her: “Oh, it's plain enough--we're on a ship, -idling, dreaming, floating from a land of color and charm and quaint -unreality to another land that has always enchanted me, for all the -dirt and disease, and the smells. It's that! Romance! The old web! -It's catching us. And we're not even resisting. No one could blame -you--you're young, charming, as full of natural life as a young flower -in the morning. But I... I'm not romantic. To-night, yes! But next -Friday, in Shanghai, no!” - -Betty turned away to hide a smile. - -“You think I'm brutal? Well--I am.” - -“No, you're not brutal.” - -“Yes, I am.... But my God! You in T'ainanfu! Child, it's wrong!” - -“It is simply a thing I can't help,” said she. - -They fell silent. The pulse of the great dim ship was soothing. One bell -sounded. Two bells. Three. - -3 - -A man of Jonathan Brachey's nature couldn't know the power his nervous -bold thoughts and words were bound to exert in the mind of a girl like -Betty. In her heart already she was mothering him. Every word he spoke -now, even the strong words that startled her, she enveloped in warm -sentiment. - -To Brachey's crabbed, self-centered nature she was like a lush oasis in -the arid desert of his heart. He could no more turn his back on it than -could any tired, dusty wanderer. He knew this. Or, better, she was like -a mirage. And mirages have driven men out of their wits. - -So romance seized them. They walked miles the next day, round and -round the deck. Mrs. Hasmer was powerless, and perturbed. Her husband -counseled watchful patience. Before night all the passengers knew that -the two were restless apart. They found corners on the boat deck, far -from all eyes. - -That night Mrs. Hasmer came to Betty's door; satisfied herself that the -girl was actually undressing and going to bed. Not one personal word -passed. - -And then, half an hour later, Betty, dressed again, tiptoed out. Her -heart was high, touched with divine recklessness. This, she supposed, -was wrong; but right or wrong, it was carrying her out of her girlish -self. She couldn't stop. - -Brachey was fighting harder; but to little purpose. They had these two -days now. That was all. At Shanghai, and after, it would be, as he had -so vigorously said, different. Just these two days! He saw, when she -joined him on the deck, that she was riding at the two days as if they -were to be her last on earth. Intensely, soberly happy, she was passing -through a golden haze of dreams, leaving the future to be what it might. - -They sat, hand in hand, in the bow. She sang, in a light pretty voice, -songs of youth in a young land--college ditties, popular negro melodies, -amusing little street songs. - -Very, very late, on the last evening, after a long silence--they had -mounted to the boat deck--he caught her roughly in his arms and kissed -her. - -She lay limply against him. For a moment, a bitter moment--for now, in -an instant, he knew that she had never thought as far as this--he feared -she had fainted. Then he felt her tears on his cheek. - -He lifted her to her feet, as roughly. - -She swayed away from him leaning against a boat. - -He said, choking: - -“Can you get down the steps all right?” - -She bowed her head. He made no effort to help her down the steps. They -walked along the deck toward the main companionway. Suddenly, with an -inarticulate sound, he turned, plunged in at the smoking-room door, and -was gone. - -Early in the morning the ship dropped anchor in the muddy Woosung. The -breakfast hour came around, then quarantine inspection; but the silent -pale Betty, her moody eyes searching restlessly, caught no glimpse of -him. He must have taken a later launch than the one that carried Betty -and the Hasmers up to the Bund at Shanghai. And during their two days in -the bizarre, polyglot city, with its European façade behind which swarms -all China, it became clear that he wasn't stopping at the Astor House. - -The only letter was from her father at T'ainan-fu. - -She watched every mail; and inquired secretly at the office of the river -steamers an hour before starting on the long voyage up the Yangtse; but -there was nothing. - -Then she recalled that he had never asked for her address, or for her -father's full name. They had spoken of T'ainan-fu. He might or might not -remember it. - -And that was all. - - - - -CHAPTER III--THE SHEPHERD - -AT the point where the ancient highway, linking Northern China with -Thibet, the Kukunor region and Mongolia, emerges from the treeless, -red-brown tumbling hills of Hansi Province there stands across the -road--or stood, before the revolution of 1911--a scenic arch of masonry -crowned with a curving elaborately ornamented roof of tiles. Some -forgotten philanthropist erected it, doubtless for a memorial to -forgotten dead. Through this arch the west-bound traveler caught his -first view of the wide yellow valley of the Han, with its yellow river, -its square-walled, gray-green capital city, and, far beyond, of the -sharp purple mountains that might have been cut out of cardboard. - -The gray of old T'ainan lay in the massive battle-mented walls and in -the more than six square miles of closely packed tile roofs; the green -in its thousands of trees. For here, as in Peking and Sian-fu they -had preserved the trees; not, of course, in the innumerable tortuous -streets, where petty merchants, money-changers, porters, coolies, -beggars, soldiers and other riffraff passed freely through mud or dust, -but within the thousands of hidden private courtyards, in the yamens of -governor, treasurer, and provincial judge, in temple grounds outside the -walls, and in the compound of the American Mission. At this latter -spot, by the way, could be seen, with the aid of field-glasses, the only -two-story residence in T'ainan; quite a European house, built after -the French manner of red brick trimmed with white stone, and rising -distinctly above the typically gray roofs that clustered about its lower -windows. - -There were bold gate towers on the city wall; eight of them, great -timbered structures with pagoda roofs rising perhaps fifteen yards above -the wall and thirty above the lowly roadway. The timber-work under the -shadowing eaves had sometime been painted in reds, blues and greens; -and the once vivid colors, though dulled now by weather and years, were -still richly visible to the near-observer. - -Many smaller settlements, little gray clusters of houses, lay about the -plain on radiating highways; for T'ainan boasted its suburbs. The -hill slopes were dotted with the homes and walled gardens of bankers, -merchants and other gentry. On a plateau just north of the Great Highway -stood, side by side, two thirteen-roof pagodas, the pride of all central -Hansi. - -About the city, on any day of the seven, twisting through the hundreds -of little streets and in and out at the eight gates, moved tens of -thousands of tirelessly busy folk, all clad in the faded blue -cotton that spells China to the eye, and among these a slow-moving, -never-ceasing tangle of wheeled and fourfooted local traffic. - -And along the Great Highway--down the hill slopes, through suburbs and -city, over the river and on toward the teeming West; over the -river, through city and suburbs and up the hills, toward the teeming -East--flowed all day long the larger commerce that linked province with -province and, ultimately, yellow man with white, at the treaty ports, -hundreds of miles away. There were strings of laden camels with -evil-looking Mongol drivers; hundreds and thousands of camels, -disdainfully going and coming. There were hundreds and thousands of -asses, patient little humorists, bearing panniers of coal lumps and iron -ore from the crudely operated mines in the hills. There were hundreds -and thousands of mule-drawn carts, springless, many with arched roofs of -matting. - -Along the roadside, sheltered by little sagging canopies of grimy -matting, or squatting in the dirt, were vendors of flat cakes and -vinegary _sumshoo_ and bits of this and that to wear. Naked children -swarmed like flies in the sun. - -The day-by-day life of the oldest and least selfconscious civilization -in the world was moving quietly, resistlessly along, as it had moved for -six thousand years. - -2 - -Reverend Henry B. Withery, on a morning in late March, came, by -springless cart, out of Kansu into T'ainan. A drab little man, with -patient fervor in his eyes and a limp (this latter the work of Boxers in -1900). He was bound, on leave, for Shanghai, San Francisco and home; -but a night at T'ainan with Griggsby Doane meant, even in the light of -hourly nearing America, much. For they had shared rooms at the seminary. -They had entered the yielding yet resisting East side by side. Meeting -but once or twice a year, even less often, they had felt each other -deeply across the purple mountains. - -They sat through tiffin with the intent preoccupied workers in the -dining-room of the brick house; and Mr Withery's gentle eyes took in -rather shrewdly the curious household. It interested him. There were -elements that puzzled him; a suggestion of staleness in this face, of -nervous overstrain in that; a tension. - -The several native workers smiled and talked less, he thought, than on -his former visits. - -Little Mr. Boatwright--slender, dustily blond, always hitherto burning -with the tire of consecration--was continually fumbling with a spoon, or -slowly twisting his tumbler, the while moodily studying the table-cloth. -And his larger wife seemed heavier in mind as in body. - -Mr. Withery found the atmosphere even a little oppressive. He looked up -about the comfortable, high ceiled room. Mounted and placed on the walls -were a number of interesting specimens of wild fowl. Elmer Boatwright, -though no devotee of slaughter or even of sport, had shot and mounted -these himself. - -Withery asked him now if he had found any interesting birds lately. The -reply was little more than monosyllabic; it was almost the reply of a -middle-aged man who has lost and forgotten the enthusiasm of youth. - -There was talk, of course; the casual surface chatter of folk who are -deeply united in work. A new schoolroom was under construction. Jen Ling -Pu, a native preacher, was doing well at So T'ung. The new tennis court -wasn't, after all, long enough. - -During all this, Withery pondered. Griggsby was driving too hard, of -course. The strongly ascetic nature of the man seemed to be telling on -him; or perhaps it was running out, the fire of it, leaving only the -force of will. That happened, of course, now and then, in the case of -men gifted with great natural vitality. - -Then too, come to reflect on it, the fight had been hard, here in Hansi. -Since 1900. Harder, perhaps, than anywhere else except Shantung and -Chihli. Harder even than in those more easterly provinces, for they were -nearer things. There were human contacts, freshening influences... . The -Boxers had dealt heavily with the whites in Hansi. More than a hundred -had been slain by fire or sword. Young women--girls like these two or -three about the dinner table--had been tortured. Griggsby and his wife -and the little girl had missed destruction only through the accident of -a journey, in the spring, to Shanghai. And he had returned, dangerously -early, to a smoldering ruin and plunged with all the vigor in his -unusual body and mind at the task of reconstruction. The work in the -province was shorthanded, of course, even yet. It would be so. But -Griggsby was building it up. He even had the little so-called college, -down the river at Hung Chan, going again, after a fashion. Money was -needed, of course. And teachers. And equipment. All that had been -discussed during tiffin. It was a rather heroic record. And it had not -passed unobserved. At the Missionary Conference, at Shanghai, in 1906, -Griggsby's report--carefully phrased, understated throughout, almost -colorless--had drawn out unusual applause. - -Mrs. Doane's death occurred during the first year of that painful -reconstruction. Griggsby's course, after that, from the day of the -funeral, in fact, as you looked back over it, recalling this and that -apparently trivial incident, was characteristic. The daughter was sent -back to the States, for schooling. Griggsby furnished for himself, up -in what was little more, really, than the attic of the new mission -residence, a bare, severe little suite of bedroom and study. The newly -married Boatwrights he installed, as something near master and mistress, -on the second floor. The other white workers and teachers filled all -but the two guest rooms, and, at times, even these. And then, his little -institution organized on a wholly new footing, he had loaded himself -sternly with work. - -Dinner was over. One by one the younger people left the room. And within -a few moments the afternoon routine of the mission compound was under -way. - -Through the open window came a beam of warm spring sunshine. Outside, -across the wide courtyard Withery noted the, to him, familiar picture -of two or three blue-clad Chinese men lounging on the steps of the gate -house; students crossing, books in hand; young girls round and fresh of -face, their slanting eyes demurely downcast, assembling before one of -the buildings; two carpenters working deliberately on a scaffold. A -soft-footed servant cleared the table. Now that the two friends -were left free to chat of personal matters, the talk wandered into -unexpectedly impersonal regions. Withery found himself baffled, and -something puzzled. During each of their recent visits Griggsby's -manner had affected him in this same way, but less definitely. -The aloofness--he had once or twice ever, thought of it as an -evasiveness--had been only a tendency. The old friendship had soon -warmed through it and brought ease of spirit and tongue. But the -tendency had grown. The present Griggsby was clearly going to prove -harder to get at. That remoteness of manner had grown on him as a habit. -The real man, whatever he was coming to be, was hidden now; the man -whose very soul had once been written clear in the steady blue eyes. - -And what a man he was! Mr. Withery indulged in a moment of sentiment as -he quietly, shrewdly studied him, across the table. - -In physical size, as in mental attainments and emotional force, James -Griggsby Duane had been, from the beginning, a marked man. He was -forty-five now; or within a year of it. The thick brown hair of their -student days was thinner-now at the sides and nearly gone on top. -But the big head was set on the solid shoulders with all the old -distinction. A notable fact about Griggsby Doane was that after winning -intercollegiate standing as a college football player, he had never -allowed his body to settle back with the years. He weighed now, surely, -within a pound or two or three of his playing weight twenty-four years -earlier. He had always been what the British term a clean feeder, eating -sparingly of simple food. Hardly a day of his life but had at least its -hour or two of violent exercise. He would rise at five in the morning -and run a few miles before breakfast. He played tennis and handball. He -would gladly have boxed and wrestled, but a giant with nearly six and -a half feet of trained, conditioned muscle at his disposal finds few -to meet him, toe to toe. His passion for walking had really, during the -earlier years, raised minor difficulties about T'ainan. The Chinese were -intelligent and, of course, courteous; but it was more than they could -be asked to understand at first. - -It had worked out, gradually. They knew him now; knew he was fearless, -industrious, patient, kind. During the later years, after the -Boxer trouble, his immense figure, striding like him of the fabled -seven-league-boots, had become a familiar, friendly figure in central -Hansi. Not infrequently he would tramp, pack on shoulders, from one -to another of the outlying mission stations; and thought nothing of -covering a hundred and thirty or forty _li_ where your cart or litter -mules or your Manchu pony would stop at ninety and call it a day. - -Withery was bringing the talk around to the personal when Doane looked -at his watch. - -“You'll excuse me, Henry,” he said. “I've a couple of classes. But I'll -knock off about four-thirty. Make yourself comfortable. Prowl about. -Use my study, if you like.... Or wait. We were speaking of the Ho Shan -Company. They've had two or three mass meetings here during the winter, -and got up some statements.” - -“Do they suggest violence?” - -“Oh, yes.” Doane waved the thought carelessly aside. “But Pao will keep -them in hand, I think. He doesn't want real trouble. But he wouldn't -mind scaring the company into selling out. The gossip is that he is -rather heavily interested himself in some of the native mines.” - -“Is Pao your governor?” - -“No, the governor died last fall, and no successor has been sent out. -Kang, the treasurer, is nearly seventy and smokes sixty to a hundred -pipes of opium a day. Pao Ting Chuan is provincial judge, but is ruling -the province now. He's an able fellow.”... Doane drew a thick lot of -papers from an inner pocket, and selected one. “Read this. It's one of -their statements. Pao had the translation made in his yamen. I haven't -the original, but the translation is fairly accurate I believe.” - -Withery took the paper; ignored it, and studied his friend, who had -moved to the door. Doane seemed to have lost his old smile--reflective, -shrewd, a little quizzical. The furrow between his eyes had deepened -into something near a permanent frown. There were fine lires about and -under the eyes that might have indicated a deep weariness of the -spirit. Yet the skin was clear, the color good.... Griggsby was fighting -something out; alone; through the years. - -Feeling this, Henry Withery broke out, in something of their old frank -way. - -“Do knock off, Grigg. Let's have one of the old talks. I think--I think -perhaps you need me a little.” Doane hesitated. It was not like him to -do that. “Yes,” he said gravely, but with his guard up, that curious -guard, “it would be fine to have one of the old talks if we can get at -it.” - -He turned to go; then paused. - -“Oh, by the way, I'm expecting Pourmont. A little later in the day. He's -resident engineer for the Ho Shan Company, over at Ping Yang. Pierre -François George Marie Pourmont. An amusing person. He feels a good deal -of concern over these meetings. For that matter, he was mobbed here in -February. He didn't like that.” - -Withery found himself compressing his lips, and tried to correct that -impulse with a rather artificial smile. It wasn't like Griggsby to speak -in that light way. Like a society man almost. It suggested a hardening -of the spirit; or a crust over deep sensitiveness. - -Men, he reflected, who have to fight themselves during long periods of -time are often hardened by the experience, even though they eventually -win. - -He wondered, moving to the window, and thoughtfully watching the huge -man striding across the courtyard, if Griggsby Doane would be winning. - -3 - -Up in the little study under the roof Mr. Withery sank into a Morris -chair and settled back to read the views of the “Gentry and People of -Hansi” on foreign mining syndicates. The documents had been typed on an -old machine with an occasional broken letter; and were phrased in the -quaint English that had long been familiar to him. - -First came a statement of the “five items” of difference between these -“Gentry and People” and the Ho Shan Company--all of a technical or -business nature. Only in the last “item” did the emotional reasoning -common to Chinese public documents make its appearance.... “_Five_. In -Honan the company boldly introduced dynamite, which is prohibited. The -dynamite exploded and this gave rise to diplomatic trouble, a like thing -might happen in Hansi with the same evil consequences.” Then followed -this inevitable general statement: - -“At present in China, from the highest to the lowest, all are in -difficulty--the annual for the indemnities amounts to Taels 30,000,000, -and in every province the reforms involve great additional expenditure, -while the authorities only know how to control the expenditure, but not -how to reach fresh sources of income. Those in power can find no fresh -funds and the people are extremely poor and all they have to trust to -are a few feet of land which have not been excavated by the foreigners. -Westerners say that the coal of Hansi is sufficient to supply the needs -of the world for two thousand years; in other countries there is coal -without iron, or iron without coal, but in Hansi there is abundance of -both coal and iron and it forms one of the best manufacturing countries -in the world. At present if there is no protection for China then that -finishes it, but if China is to be protected how can Hansi be excluded -from protection? Therefore all China and all Hansi must withstand the -claims of the Ho Shan Company. - -“The company's agent general says that the agreement was drawn up with -the Chinese Government, but at that time the people were unenlightened -and traitors were suffered to effect stolen sales of Government lands, -using oppression and disregarding the lives of the people. Now all -the Gentry and People know how things are, and of what importance the -consequences are for the lives of themselves and their families, and so -with one heart they all withstand the company in whatever schemes it may -have, for they are not willing to drop their hands and give themselves -up to death, and if the officials will not protect the mines of Hansi -then we will protect our mines ourselves. - -“We suggest a plan for the company, that it should state the sum used to -bribe Hu Pin Chili, and to win over Chia Ching Jen and Liu O and Sheng -Hsuan Hui and the Tsung Li Yamen, and the Wai Wu Pu and the Yu Chuan -Pu, at the present time, and the bribes to other cruel traitors, and a -detailed account of their expenditure in opening their mines since their -arrival in China, and Hansi will repay the amount. If the company still -pushes the claim for damages, in consequence of the delay in issuing the -permit then the Hansi people will never submit to it. - -“In conclusion the people of Hansi must hold to their mines till death, -and if the Government and officials still unrighteously flatter the -foreigners in their oppression and flog the people robbing them of their -flesh and blood to give those to the foreigners then some one must throw -away his life by bomb throwing and so repay the company, but we trust -the company will carefully consider and weigh the matter and not push -Hansi to this extremity.” - -Mr. Withery laid the documents on Doane's desk, and gave up an hour to -jotting down notes for his own annual report. Then he took a long -walk, in through the wall and about the inner city. He was back by -four-thirty, but found no sign of his friend. - -At five a stout Frenchman arrived, a man of fifty or more, with a long, -square-trimmed beard of which he was plainly fond. Doane returned then -to the house. - -4 - -The three men had tea in the study. M. Pourmont, with an apology, -smoked cigarettes. Withery observed, when the genual Frenchman turned -his head, that the lobe of his left ear was missing. - -M. Pourmont regarded the local situation seriously. - -“Zay spik of you,” he explained to Griggsby Doane. - -“Zay say zat you have ze petit papier, ze little paper, all yellow, cut -like ze little man an' woman. An' it is also zat zay say zat ze little -girl, ze student, all ze little jeunes filles, is ze lowair vife of -you, Monsieur It is not good, zat. At Paree ve vould say zat it is _se -compliment_, but here it is not good. It is zat zay have not bifore spik -like zat of Monsieur Doane.” - -Doane merely considered this without replying. - -“That statement of the Gentry and People looks rather serious to me,'' -Mr. Withery remarked. - -“It has its serious side,” said Doane quietly. “Put you see, of course, -from the frankness and publicity of it, that the officials are back -of it. These Gentry and People would never go so far unsupported. It -wouldn't surprise me to learn that the documents originated within the -yamen of his Excellency Pao Ting Chuan.” - -“Very good,” said Withery. “Put if he lets it drift much further the -danger will be real. Suppose some young hothead were to take that last -threat seriously and give up his life in throwing a bomb---what then?” - -“It would be serious then, of course,” said Doane. “But I hardly think -any one here would go so far unsupported.” - -“Yes!” cried M. Pourmont, in some excitement, “an' at who is it zat zay -t'row ze bomb? It is at me, _n'est ce pas?_ At me! You tlink I forget -v'en ze mob it t'rowr ze _bierre_ at me? _Mais non!_ Zay tear ze cart -of me. Zay beat ze head of me. Zay destroy ze ear of me. _Ah, c' était -terrible, ça!_” - -“They attacked Monsieur Pourmont while he was riding to the yamen for an -audience with Pao,” Doane explained. “But Pao heard of it and promptly -sent soldiers. 1 took it up with him the next day. He acted most -correctly. The ringleaders of the mob were whipped and imprisoned.” - -“But you mus' also say to Monsieur Vitieree zat ze committee of my -_compagnie_ he come to Peking--_quinze mille kilometres he come!_--an' -now _Son Excellence_ he say zay mus' not come here, into _ze province_. -It is so difficult, ça! An' ze committee he is ver' angry. He swear at -Peking. He cool ze--vat you say---heels. An' ze work he all stop. No -good! Noz-zing at all!” - -“That is all so, Henry.” Thus Doane, turning to his friend. “I don't -mean to minimize the actual difficulties. But I do not believe we are in -any such danger as in 1900. Even then the officials did it, of course. -If they hadn't believed that the incantations of the Boxers made them -immune to our bullets, and if they hadn't convinced the Empress Dowager -of it, we should never have had the siege of the legations. But I am to -have an audience with His Excellency tomorrow, at one, and will go over -this ground carefully. I have no wish, myself, to underestimate the -trouble. My daughter arrives next week.” - -“Oh!” said Withery. “Oh... your daughter! From the States, Grigg?” - -“Yes, I am to meet her at Hankow. The Hasmers brought her across.” - -“That's too bad, in a way.” - -“Of course. But there was no choice.” - -“But zat is not all zat is!” M. Puurmont was pacing the floor now. “A -boy of me, of ze _cuisine_, he go home las' week to So T'ung an' he say -zat a--vat you call?--a circle.. - -“A society?” - -“_Mais oui!_ A society, she meet in ze night an' _fait l'exercise_--” - -“They are drilling?” - -“_Oui!_ Ze drill. It is ze society of Ze Great Eye.” - -“I never heard of that,” mused Griggsby aloud. “I don't really see what -they can do. But I'll take it up to-morrow with, Pao. I would ask -you, however, to remember that if the people don't know the cost of -indemnities, there can be no doubt about Pao. He knows. And it is hard -for me to imagine the province drifting out of his control for a single -day. One event I am planning to watch closely is the fair here after the -middle of April. Some of these agitators of the Gentry and People are -sure to be on hand. We shall learn a great deal then.” - -“You'll be back then, Grigg?” - -“Oh, yes. By the tenth. I shan't delay at all at Hankow.” - -It seemed to Henry Withery that his friend and host maneuvered to -get him to retire first. Then he attributed the suspicion to his own -disturbed thoughts.... Still, Griggsby hadn't returned to the house -until after M. Pourmont's arrival. It was now nearly midnight, and there -had been never a personal word. - -But at last, M. Pourmont out of the way for the night, lamp in hand, -Griggsby led the way to the remaining guest room. - -Withery, following, looked up at the tall grave man, who had to stoop a -little at the doors. Would Griggsby put down the lamp, speak a courteous -good night, and go off to his own attic quarters; or would he linger? It -was to be a test, this coming moment, of their friendship.... Withery's -heart filled. In his way, through the years, out there in remote Kansu, -he had always looked up to Grigg and had leaned on him, on memories -of him as he had been. He had the memories now--curiously poignant -memories, tinged with the melancholy of lost youth. But had he still the -friend? - -Duane set down the lamp, and looked about, all grave courtesy, to see if -his friend's bag was at hand, and if the wash-stand and towel-rack had -been made ready. - -Withery stood on the sill, struggling to control his emotions. -Longfellow's lines came to mind: - - “A boy's will is the wind's will, - - And the thoughts of youth are long, long - - thoughts.” - -They were middle-aged now, they two. It was extraordinarily hard to -believe. They had felt so much, and shared so much. They had plunged at -missionary work with such ardor. Grigg especially. He had thrown -aside more than one early opportunity for a start in business. He had -sacrificed useful worldly acquaintances. His heart had burned to save -souls, to carry the flame of divine revelation into what had then seemed -a benighted, materialistic land. - -Grigg would have succeeded in business or in the service of his -government. He had a marked administrative gift. And power.... -Distinctly power. - -Withery stepped within the room, closed the door behind him, and looked -straight up into that mask of a face; in his own deep emotion he thought -of it as a tragic mask. - -“Grigg,” he said very simply, “what's the matter?” - -There was a silence. Then Doane came toward the door. - -“The matter?” he queried, with an effort to smile. - -“Can't we talk, Grigg?... I know you are in deep trouble.” - -“Well”--Doane rested a massive hand on a bedpost--“I won't say that it -isn't an anxious time, Henry. I'm pinning my faith to Pau Ting -Chuan. But... And, of course, if I could have foreseen all the little -developments, I wouldn't have sent for Betty. Though it's not easy -to see what else I could have done. Frank and Ethel couldn't keep her -longer. And the expense of any other arrangement... She's nineteen, -Henry. A young woman. Curious--a young woman whom I've never even seen -as such, and my daughter!” - -“It isn't that, Grigg.” - -At the moment Withery could say no more. He sank into a chair by the -door, depressed in spirit. - -Doane walked to the window; looked out at the stars; drummed a moment on -the glass. - -“It's been uphill work, Henry... since nineteen hundred.” - -Withery cleared his throat. “It isn't that,” he repeated unsteadily. - -Doane stood there a moment longer; then turned and gazed gloomily at his -friend. - -The silence grew painful. - -Finally, Doane sighed, spread his hands in the manner of one who -surrenders to fate, and came slowly over to the bed; stretching out his -long frame there, against the pillows. - -“So it's as plain as that, Henry.” - -“It is--to me.” - -“I wonder if I can talk.” - -“The question is, Grigg--can I help you?” - -“I'm afraid not, Henry. I doubt if any one can.” The force of this sank -slowly into Withery's mind. “No one?” he asked in a hushed voice. - -“I'm afraid not.... Do you think the others, my people here, see it?” - -“The tone has changed here, Grigg.” - -“I've tried not to believe it.” - -“I've felt it increasingly for several years. When I've passed through. -Even in your letters. It's been hard to speak before. For that matter, I -had formulated no question. It was just an impression. But today... and -to-night...” - -“It's as bad as that, now.” - -“Suppose I say that it's as definite as that, Grigg. The impression.” - -Doane let his head drop back against the pillows; closed his eyes. - -“The words don't matter,” he remarked. - -“No, they don't, of course.” Withery's mind, trained through the busy -years to the sort of informal confessional familiar to priests of -other than the Roman church, was clearing itself of the confusions of -friendship and was ready to dismiss, for the time, philosophically; the -sense of personal loss. - -“Is it something you've done, Grigg?” he asked now, gently. “Have you--” - -Doane threw out an interrupting hand. - -“No,” he said rather shortly, “I've not broken the faith, Henry, not in -act.” - -“In your thoughts only?” - -“Yes. There.” - -“It is doubt?... Strange, Grigg, I never knew a man whose faith had in -it such vitality. You've inspired thousands. Tens of thousands. You--I -will say this, now--you, nothing more, really, than my thoughts of you -carried me through my bad time. Through those doldrums when the ardor of -the first few years had burned out and I was spent, emotionally. It was -with your help that I found my feet again. You never knew' that.” - -“No. I didn't know that.” - -“I worried a good deal, then. I had never before been aware of the -church as a worldly organization, as a political mechanism. I hadn't -questioned it. It was Hidderleigh's shrewd campaign for the bishopric -that disturbed me. Then the money raised questions, of course.” - -“There's been a campaign on this winter, over in the States,” said -Doane, speaking slowly and thoughtfully. “Part of that fund is to be -sent here to help extend my work in the province. They're using all the -old emotional devices. All the claptrap. Chaplain Cabell is touring the -churches with his little cottage organ and his songs.” - -“But the need is real out here, Grigg. And the people at home must be -stirred into recognizing it. They can't he reached except through their -emotions. I've been through all that. I see now, clearly enough, that -it's an imperfect world. We must do the best we can with it. Because it -is imperfect we must keep at our work.” - -“You know as well as I what they're doing, Henry. Cabell, all that -crowd, haven't once mentioned Hansi. They're talking the Congo.” - -“But you forget, Grigg, that the emotional interest of our home people -in China has run out. They thought about us during the Boxer trouble, -and later, during the famine in Shensi. Now, because of the talk of -slavery and atrocities in Central Africa, public interest has shifted to -that part of the world.” - -“And so they're playing on the public sympathy for Africa to raise -money, some of which is later to be diverted to Central China.” - -“What else can they do?” - -“I don't know.” - -“You find yourself inclined to question the whole process?” - -“Yes.” - -“Aren't you misplacing your emphasis, Grigg? We all do that, of course. -Now and then.... Isn't the important thing for you, the emphatic -thing, to spread the word of God in Hansi Province?” He leaned forward, -speaking simply, with sincerity. - -Doane closed his eyes again; and compressed his lips. - -Withery, anxiously watching him, saw that the healthy color was leaving -his face. - -After a silence that grew steadily in intensity, Doane at last opened -his eyes, and spoke, huskily, but with grim force. - -“Of course, Henry, you're right. Right enough. These things are details. -They're on my nerves, that's all. I'm going to tell you...” He sat up, -slowly swung his feet to the floor, clasped his hands.... “I'll spare -you my personal history of the past few years. And, of course, captious -criticism of the church is no proper introduction to what I'm going -to say. During these recent years I've been groping through my own -Gethsemane. It has been a terrible time. There have been many moments -when I've questioned the value of the struggle. If I had been as nearly -alone as it has seemed, sometimes... I mean, if there hadn't been little -Betty to think of...” - -“I understand,” Withery murmured. - -“In a way I've come through my Valley. My head has cleared a little. And -now I know only too clearly; it is very difficult; in a way, the time -of doubt and groping was easier to bear... I know that I am in the wrong -work.” - -Withery, with moist eyes, studied the carpet. - -“You are sure?” he managed to ask. - -He felt rather than saw his friend's slow nod. - -“It's a relief, of course, to tell you.” Doane was speaking with less -effort now; but his color had not returned. “There's no one else. -I couldn't say it to Hidderleigh. To me that man is fundamentally -dishonest.” - -Withery found it difficult to face such extreme frankness. His mind -slipped around it into another channel. He was beginning to feel that -Grigg mustn't be let off so easily. There were arguments.... - -“One thing that has troubled me, even lately,” he said, hunting for -some common ground of thought and speech, “is the old denominational -differences back home. I can't take all that for granted, as so many -of our younger workers do. It has seemed to me that the conference last -year should have spoken out more vigorously on that one point. We -can never bring missionary work into any sort of unity here while the -denominational spirit is kept alive at home.” - -Doane broke out, with a touch of impatience: “We approach the shrewdest, -most keenly analytical people or; earth, the Chinese, with something -near a hundred and fifty conflicting varieties of the one true religion. -Too often, Henry, we try to pass to them our faith but actually succeed -only in exhibiting the curious prejudices of narrow white minds.” - -This was, clearly, not a happy topic. Withery sighed. - -“This--this attitude that you find yourself in--is really a conclusion, -Grigg?” - -“It is a conclusion.” - -“What are you going to do?” - -“I don't know.” - -“It would be a calamity if you were to give up your work here, in the -midst of reconstruction.” - -“No man is essential, Henry But of course, just now, it would lie -difficult. I have thought, often, if Boatwright had only turned out a -stronger man....” - -“Grigg, one thing! You must let me speak of it.... Has the possibility -occurred to you of marrying again?” - -Doane sprang up at this; walked the floor, - -“Do you realize what you're saying, Henry!” he cried out. - -“I understand, Grigg, but you and I are old enough to know that in the -case of a vigorous man like yourself--” - -Doane threw out a hand. - -“Henry, I've thought of everything!” - -A little later he stopped and stood over his friend. - -“I have fought battles that may as well be forgotten,” he said -deliberately. “I have won them, over and over, to no end whatever. I -have assumed that these victories would lead in time to a sort of peace, -even to resignation. They have not. Each little victory now seems to -leave me further back. I'm losing, not gaining, through the years. It -was when I finally nerved myself to face that fact that I found myself -facing it all--my whole life.... Henry, I'm full of a fire and energy -that no longer finds an outlet in my work. I want to turn to new fields. -If I don't, before it's too late, I may find myself on the rocks.” - -Withery thought this over. Doane was still pacing the floor. Withery, -pale himself now, looked up. - -“Perhaps, then,” he said, “you had better break with it.” - -Doane stopped at the window; stared out. Withery thought his face was -working. - -“Have you any means at all?” he asked. - -Doane moved his head in the negative.... “Oh, my books. A few personal -things.” - -“Of course”--Withery's voice softened--“you've given away a good deal.” - -“I've given everything.” - -“Hum!... Have you thought of anything else you might do?” - -Doane turned. “Henry, I'm forty-five years old. I have no profession, -no business experience beyond the little administrative work here. Yet -I must live, not only for myself, but to support my little girl. If I do -quit, and try to find a place in the business world, I shall carry to my -grave the stigma that clings always to the unfrocked priest.” He strode -to the door. “I tell you, I've thought of everything!... We're getting -nowhere with this. I appreciate your interest. But... I'm sorry, Henry. -Sleep if you can. Good night.” - -They met, with M. Pourmont and the others, at breakfast. - -There was a moment, on the steps of the gate house, overlooking the -narrow busy street, when they silently clasped hands. - -Then Henry Withery crawled in under the blue curtains of his cart and -rode away, carrying with him a mental picture of a huge man, stooping a -little under the red lintel of the doorway, his strong face sternly set. - - - - -CHAPTER IV--THE RIDDLE OF LIFE, AND OF DEATH - - -1 - -DOANE stood on the Bund at Hankow, by the railing, his great frame -towering above the passers-by. He had lunched with the consul general, -an old acquaintance. He had arranged to stop overnight, with Betty, in -a missionary compound. In the morning they would take the weekly Peking -Express northward. - -The wide yellow Yangtse flowed by, between its steep mud cliffs, -crowded with sampans--hundreds of them moored, rail to rail, against the -opposite bank, a compact floating village that was cluttered and crowded -with ragged river-folk and deck-houses of arched matting and that reared -skyward a thick tangle of masts and rigging. The smaller boats and tubs -of the water-beggars lay against the bank just beneath him, expectantly -awaiting the Shanghai steamer. Out in the stream several stately junks -lay at anchor; and near them a tiny river gunboat, her low free-board -glistening white in the warm spring sunshine, a wisp of smoke trailing -lazily from her funnel, the British ensign hanging ir folds astern. - -Down and up the water steps were moving continuously the innumerable -water bearers whose business it was to supply the city of near a million -yellow folk that lay just behind the commercial buildings and the -pyramid-like godowns of the Bund. - -To Doane the picture, every detail of which had a place in the -environment of his entire adult life, seemed unreal. The consul general, -too, had been unreal. His talk, mostly of remembered if partly mellowed -political grievances back home, of the great days when a certain “easy -boss” was in power, and later of the mutterings of revolution up and -down the Yangtse Valley, sounded in Doane's ears like quaint idle -chatter of another planet.... His own talk, it seemed now, had been as -unreal as the rest of it. - -Of the compliment men of affairs usually paid him, despite his calling, -in speaking out as man to man, Doane had never thought and did not think -now. He was not self-conscious. - -The hours of sober thought that followed his talk with Henry Withery had -deepened the furrow between his brows. - -In an odd way he was dating from that talk. It had been extraordinarily -futile. It had to come, some sort of outbreak. For two or three years he -had rather vaguely recognized this fact, and as vaguely dreaded it. Now -it had happened. It was like a line drawn squarely across his life. He -was different now; perhaps more honest, certainly franker with himself, -but different... It had shaken him. Sleep left him for a night or two. -Getting away for this trip to Hankow seemed a good thing. He had to be -alone, walking it off, and thinking... thinking.... He walked the two -hundred and ninety _li_ to M. Pour-mont's compound, at Ping Yang, the -railhead that spring of the new meter-guage line into Hans' Province in -two days. The mule teams took three. - -He dwelt much with memories of his daughter. She had been a winning -little thing. Until the terrible Boxer year, that ended, for him, in the -death of his wife, she had brought continuous happiness into their life. - -She would be six years older now. He couldn't picture that. She had sent -an occasional snapshot photograph; but these could not replace his vivid -memories of the child she had been. - -He was tremulously eager to see her. There would be little problems of -adjustment. Over and over he told himself that he mustn't be stern with -her; he must watch that. - -He felt some uncertainty regarding her training. It was his hope -that she would fit into the work of the mission. It seemed, indeed, -necessary. She would be contributing eager young life. Her dutiful, -rather perfunctory letters had made that much about her clear. They -needed that. - -During the talk with Withery--it kept coming, up--he had heard his own -voice saying--in curiously deliberate tones--astonishing things. He -had sent his friend away in a state of deepest concern. He thought of -writing him. A letter might catch him at Shanghai. There would be time -in the morning, during the long early hours before this household down -here would be awaking and gathering for breakfast. It would help, he -felt impulsively, to explain fully... But what? What was it that was to -be so easily explained? Could he erase, with a few strokes of a pen, the -unhappy impression he had made that night on Henry's brain? - -The suggestion of marriage, with its implication of a rather cynical -worldly wisdom, had come oddly from the devout Henry. Henry was older, -too. But Doane winced at the mere recollection. He was almost excitedly -sensitive on the topic. He had put women out of his mind, and was -determined to keep them out. But at times thoughts of them slipped in. - -On the walk to Ping Yang, the second afternoon, he was swinging down -a valley where the road was no more than the stony bed of an -anciently-diverted stream. The caravan of a mandarin passed, bound -doubtless from Peking to a far western province. That it was a great -mandarin was indicated by his richly decorated sedan chair borne by -sixteen footmen with squadrons of cavalry before and behind. Five mule -litters followed, each with a brightly painted, young face pressed -against the tiny square window, the wives or concubines of the great -one. Each demurely studied him through slanting eyes. And the last one -smiled; quickly, brightly. It was death to be caught at that, yet life -was too strong for her. He walked feverishly after that. He had said -one thing to Henry... something never before formulated, even in his own -thinking. What was it? Oh, this!--“Henry, I'm full of a fire and energy -that no longer find an outlet in my work. I want to turn to new fields. -If I don't, before it's too late, I may find myself on the rocks.” - -There was something bitterly, if almost boyishly true in that statement. -The vital, vigorous adult that was developing within him, now, in the -forties, seemed almost unrelated to the young man he had been. He felt -life, strength, power. In spirit he was younger than ever. All he -had done, during more than twenty years, seemed but a practising for -something real, a schooling. Now, standing there, a stern figure, on -the Hankow Bund, he was aware of a developed, flowering instinct for the -main currents of the mighty social stream, for rough, fresh contacts, -large enterprises. His religion had been steadily widening out from the -creed of his youth, gradually including all living things, all -growth, far outspreading the set boundaries of churchly thought. This -development of his spirit had immensely widened his spiritual influence -among the Chinese of the province while at the same time making it -increasingly different to talk frankly with fellow churchmen. - -He had come to find more of the bread of life in Emerson and Montaigne, -Chaucer and Shakespeare; less in Milton and Peter. He could consider -Burns now with a new pity, without moral condescension, with simple -love. He could feel profoundly the moral triumph of Hester Prynne, while -wondering at what seemed his own logic. He struggled against a weakening -faith in the authenticity of divine revelation, as against a deepening -perception that the Confucian precepts might well be a healthy and even -sufficient outgrowth of fundamental Chinese characteristics. - -He thought, at times rather grimly, of the trials for heresy that now -and then rocked the church; and wondered, as grimly, how soon the heresy -hunters would be getting around to him. The smallest incident might, -sooner or later would, set them after him. - -Henry Withery was certain, in spite of his personal loyalty, out of his -very concern, to drop a word. And there was literally no word he could -drop, after their talk, but would indicate potential heresy in his -friend, James Griggsby Doane. - -Or it might come from within the compound. Or from a passing stranger. -Or from remarks of his own at the annual conference. Or from letters. - -There were moments when he could have invited exposure as a relief from -doubt and torment of soul. There was nothing of the hypocrite in him. -But in soberer moments he felt certain that it was letter to wait until -he could find, if not divine guidance, at least an intelligent earthly -plan. - -All he could do, as it stood, was to work harder and harder with body -and mind. And to shoulder more and more responsibility. Without that he -would be like a wild engine, charging to destruction. - -His daughter would be, for a time certainly, one more burden. He was -glad. Anything that would bring life real again! Work above all; every -waking moment, if possible, filled; his mental and physical powers taxed -to their uttermost; that was the thing; crowd out the brooding, the -mere feeling. Action, all the time, and hard, objective thought. The -difficulty was that his powers were so great; he seemed never to tire -any more; his thoughts could dwell on many planes at once; he actually -needed but a few hours' sleep.... And so Betty would be a young woman -now, mysteriously as old as her mother on her wedding day: a young woman -of unknown interests and sympathies, of a world he himself had all but -ceased to know. And it came upon him suddenly, then with tremendous -emotional force, that he had no heritage to leave her but a good name. - -He stood gripping the railing, head back, gazing up out of misty eyes at -a white-flecked blue sky. A prayer arose from his heart and, a whisper, -passed his lips: “O God, show me Thy truth, that it may set me.” - -In the intensity of his brooding he had forgotten to watch for -the steamer. But now he became aware of a stir of life along the -river-front. The beggars were paddling out into the stream, making ready -their little baskets at the ends of bamboo poles. - -Over the cliffs, down-stream, hung a long film of smoke. The steamer had -rounded the bend and was plowing rapidly up toward the twin cities. He -could make out the two white stripes on the funnel, and the cluster of -ventilators about it, and the new canvas across the front of the bridge. -A moment later he could see the tiny figures crowding the rail. - -The steamer warped in alongside a new wharf. - -Doane stood near the gangway, all emotion, nearly out of control. - -From below hundreds of coolies, countrymen and ragged soldiers swarmed -up, to be herded off at one side of the wharf. The local coolies went -aboard and promptly started unloading freight, handling crates and bales -of half a ton weight with the quick, half grunted, half sung chanteys, -intricately rhythmical, with which all heavy labor is accompanied in the -Yangtse Valley. - -Two spectacled Chinese merchants in shimmering silk robes came down the -gangway. A tall American, in civilian dress and overcoat but carrying -a leather sword case, followed. Two missionaries came, one in Chinese -dress with a cue attached to his skull-cap, bowing to the stern giant as -they passed. Then a French father in black robe and shovel hat; a group -of Englishmen; a number of families, American, British, French; and -finally, coming along the shaded deck, the familiar kindly face and -silvery heard of Doctor Hasmer--he was distinctly growing older, -Hasmer--then his wife, and, emerging from the cabin, a slim little -figure, rather smartly dressed, extraordinarily pretty, radiating a -quick charm as she hurried to the gangway, there pausing a moment to -search the wharf. - -Her eyes met his. She smiled. - -It was Betty. He felt her charm, but his heart was sinking. - -She kissed him. She seemed all enthusiasm, even very happy. But a moment -later, walking along the wharf toward the Bund, her soft little face was -sad. He wondered, as his thoughts whirled around, about that. - -Her clothes, her beauty, her bright manner, indicating a girlish -eagerness to be admired, wouldn't do at the mission. And she couldn't -wear those trim little shoes with heels half an inch higher than a -man's. - -She had, definitely, the gift and the thought of adorning herself. She -was a good girl; there was stuff in her. But it wouldn't do; not out -there in T'ainan. And she looked like anything in the world but a -teacher. - -She fascinated him. She was the lovely creature his own little girl -had become. Walking beside her up the Bund, chatting with the Hasmers, -making a fair show of calm, his heart swelled with love and pride. She -was delicate, shyly adorable, gently feminine. - -It was going to be difficult to speak about her costume and her charming -ways. It wouldn't do to crush her. She was quick enough; very likely she -would pick up the tone of the compound very quickly and adapt herself to -it. - -3 - -Young Li Hsien, of T'ainan had come up on the boat. Doans talked a -moment with him on the wharf. He was taking the Peking Express in the -morning, traveling first-class. The boy's father was a wealthy banker -and had always been generous with his firstborn son. - -Li appeared in the dining-car at noon, calmly smiling, and, at Doane's -imitation, sat with him and Betty. He carried a copy of _Thus Spake -Zarathustra_, in English, with a large number of protruding paper -bookmarks. - -Doane glanced in some surprise at the volume lying rather ostentatiously -on the table, and then at the pigtailed young man who ate foreign food -with an eagerness and a relish that indicated an excited interest in -novel experiment not commonly found among his race. - -They talked in Chinese. Li had much to say of the Japanese. He admired -them for adopting and adapting to their own purposes the material -achievements of the Western world. He had evidently heard something of -Theodore Roosevelt and rather less of Lloyd George and Karl Marx. Doane -was of the opinion, later, that during the tiffin hour the lad had told -all he had learned in six months at Tokio. When asked why he was not -finishing out his college year he smiled enigmatically and spoke of -duties at home. He knew, of course, that Doane would instantly dismiss -the reason as meaningless; it was his Chinese way of suggesting that he -preferred not to answer the question. - -Twenty-four hours later they transferred their luggage to the Hansi -Line, and headed westward into the red hills; passing, within an hour, -through the southern extension of the Great Wall, now a ruin. The night -was passed in M. Pourmont's compound at Ping Yang. After this there were -two other nights in ancient, unpleasant village inns. - -Duane made every effort to lessen the discomforts of the journey. -Outwardly kind, inwardly emotions fought with one another. He felt now -that he should never have sent for Betty; never in the world She seemed -to have had no practical training. She grew quiet and wistful as the -journey proceeded. The little outbreaks of enthusiasm over this or that -half-remembered glimpse of native life came less frequently from day to -day. - -There were a number of young men at Ping Yang; one French engineer who -spoke excellent English; an Australian; others, and two or three young -matrons who had adventurously accompanied their husbands into the -interior. They all called in the evening. The hospitable Pourmont took -up rugs and turned on the talking-machine, and the young people danced. - -Doane sat apart, watched the gracefully gliding couples; tried to smile. -The dance was on, Betty in the thick of it, before he realized what -was meant. He couldn't have spoken without others hearing. It was plain -enough that she entered into it without a thought; though as the -evening wore on he thought she glanced at him, now and then, rather -thoughtfully. And he found himself, at these moments, smiling with -greater determination and nodding at her. - -The incident plunged him, curiously, swiftly, into the heart of his own -dilemma. He rested an elbow on a table and shaded his eyes, trying, as -he had been trying all these years, to think. - -What a joyous little thing she was! What a fairy! And dancing seemed, -now, a means of expression for her youth and her gift of charm. And -there was an exquisite delight, he found, in watching her skill with the -young men. She was gay, quick, tactful. Clearly young men had, before -this, admired her. He wondered what sort of men. - -She interrupted this brooding with one of those slightly perturbed -glances. Quickly he lowered his hand in order that she might see him -smile; but she had whirled away. - -Joy!... Not before this moment, not in all the years of puzzled, -sometimes bitter thinking, had he realized the degree in which -mission life--for that matter, the very religion of his denominational -variety--shut joy out. They were afraid of it. They fought it. In their -hearts they associated it with vice It was of this world; their eyes -were turned wholly to another. - -His teeth grated together. The muscles of his strong jaws moved; bunched -on his cheeks. He knew now that he believed in joy as an expression of -life. - -Had he known where to turn for the money he would gladly have planned, -at this moment, to send Betty back to the States, give her more of an -education, even arrange for her to study drawing and painting. For on -the train, during their silences, she had sketched the French conductor, -the French-speaking Chinese porter, the sleepy, gray-brown, walled -villages, the wide, desert-like flats of the Hoang-Ho, the tumbling -hills. He was struck by her persistence at it; the girlish energy she -put into it. - -That night, late, long after the music had stopped and the last guests -had left for their dwellings about the large compound, she came across -the corridor and tapped at his door. She wore a kimono of Japan; her -abundant brown hair rippled about her shoulders. - -“Just one more good night, Daddy,” she murmured. - -And then, turning away, she added this, softly: - -“I never thought about the dancing until--well, we'd started...” - -He stood a long moment in silence, then said: - -“I'm glad you had a pleasant evening, dear. We--we're rather quiet at -T'ainan.” - -4 - -Pao Ting Chuan was a man of great shrewdness and considerable -distinction of appearance, skilled in ceremonial intercourse, a master -of the intricate courses a prominent official must steer between -beautifully phrased moral and ethical maxims on the one hand and -complicated political trickery on the other. But, as Doane had said, he -knew the cost of indemnities. It was on his shrewdness, his really great -intelligence, and on his firm control of the “gentry and people” of the -province that Doane relied to prevent any such frightful slaughter of -whites and destruction of their property as had occurred in 1900. Pao, -unlike most of the higher mandarins, was Chinese, not Manchu. - -The tao-tai of the city of T'ainan-fu, Chang Chih Ting, was an older man -than Pao, less vigorous of body and mind, simpler and franker. He was of -those who bewail the backwardness of China. - -From the tao-tai's yamen, on the first day of the great April fair, set -forth His Excellency in full panoply of state--a green official chair -with many bearers, an escort of twenty footmen, with runners on ahead. - -Behind this caravan, hidden from view in the depths of a blue Peking -cart, with the conventional extra servant dangling his heels over the -foreboard, rode Griggsby Doane. - -The principal feature of the opening day was a theatrical performance. -The play, naturally, was an historical satire, shouted and occasionally -sung by the heavily-costumed actors, to a continuous accompaniment of -wailing strings. The stage was a platform in the open air, under a tree -hung with bannerets inscribed to the particular spirit supposed to dwell -within its encircling bark. - -His Excellency stood, with Doane, on a knoll, looking out over the heads -of the vast audience toward the stage. Doane estimated the attendance at -near ten thousand. - -The play, begun in the early morning, was now well advanced. At its -conclusion, the audience was beginning to break up when a slim blue-clad -figure mounted the platform and began a hurried speech. - -Chang and Doane looked at each other; then as one man moved forward -down the knoll with the throng. The tao-tai's attendants followed, in -scattered formation. - -The speaker was Li Hsien. - -Slowly the magistrate and the missionary made their way toward the -stage. - -At first the crowd, at sight of the magistrate's button and embroidered -insignia, made way as well as they could. But as the impassioned phrases -of Li Hsien sank into their minds resistance developed. From here -and there in the crowd came phrases expressing a vile contempt for -foreigners such as Doane had not heard for years. - -Li was lashing himself up, crying out more and more vigorously against -the Ho Shan Company, the barbarous white governments from which it -derived force, foreign pigs everywhere. The crowds closed, solidly, -before the two advancing men. - -The magistrate waved his arms; shouted a command that Li leave the -platform. Li, hearing only a voice of opposition in the crowd, poured -out voluble scorn on his head. The crowd jostled Duane. A stick struck -his cheek. He whirled and caught the stick, but the wielder of it -escaped in the crowd. - -Chang tried to reason, then, with the few hundred within ear-shot. - -The sense of violence seemed to be increasing. A few of the magistrate's -escort were struggling through. These formed a circle about him and -Doane. - -Li shouted out charge after charge against the company. He begged his -hearers to be brave, as he was brave; to destroy all the works of the -company with dynamite; to wreck all the grounds of the foreign engineer -at Ping Yang and kill all the occupants; to kill foreigners everywhere -and assert the ancient integrity and superiority of China. “Be brave!” - he cried again. “See, I am brave. I die for Hansi. Can not you, too, -die for Hansi? Can not you think of me, of how I died for our cause, and -yourself, in memory of my act, fight for your beloved country, that it -may again be the proud queen of the earth?” - -He drew a revolver from his sleeve; shot twice; fell to the stage in a -widening pool of blood. - -At once the vast crowd went wild. Those near the white man turned on him -as if to kill him. His clothes were torn, his head cut. Man after man -he knocked down with his powerful fists. Before many moments he was -exulting in the struggle, in his strength and the full use of it. - -The magistrate, struggled beside him. For the people. In their frenzy, -forgot or ignored his rank and overwhelmed him. - -The runners fought as well as they could. Two or three of them fell. -Then a body of horsemen came charging into the crowd, soldiers from -the judge's yamen, all on shaggy little Manchu ponies, swinging clubbed -carbines as they rode. Right and left, men and boys fell. The crowd -broke and scattered. - -Chang, bleeding from several small wounds, his exquisitely embroidered -silken garments torn nearly off his body, made his way back to the green -chair. - -Doane was escorted by soldiers to the mission compound. He slipped in to -wash off the blood and change his clothes without being seen by Betty or -any of the whites. - -Shortly came two runners of His Excellency, Pao Ting Chuan, bearing -trays of gifts. And a Chinese note expressing deepest regret and -pledging complete protection in the future. - -Doane dismissed the runners with a Mexican dollar each, and thoughtfully -considered the situation. Pao was strong, very strong. Yet the -self-destruction of Li Hsien would act as a flaming signal to the people -It was the one appeal that might rouse them beyond control. - - - - -CHAPTER V--IN T'AINAN - - -1 - -THE Boatwrights were at this time in the thirties; he perhaps -thirty-six or seven, she thirty-three or four. As has already been noted -through the observing eyes of Mr. Withery, Elmer Boatwright had lost the -fresh enthusiasm of his first years in the province. And he had by no -means attained the mellow wisdom that seldom so much as begins to appear -in a man before forty. His was a daily routine of innumerable petty -tasks and responsibilities. He had come to be a washed-out little man, -whose unceasing activity was somehow unconvincing. He had stopped -having opinions, even views. He taught, he kept accounts and records, he -conducted meetings, he prayed and sometimes preached at meetings of the -students and the native Christians, he was kind in a routine way, his -rather patient smile was liked about the compound, but the gift of -personality was not his. Even his religion seemed at times to have -settled into routine.... - -He was small in stature, not plump, with light thin hair and a light -thin mustache. - -His wife was taller than he, more vigorous, more positive, with -something of an executive gift. The domestic management of the compound -was her province, with teaching in spare hours. Her husband, with fewer -petty activities to absorb his energy until his life settled into a -mold, might have exhibited some of the interesting emotional quality -that is rather loosely called temperament; for that matter it was still -a possibility during the soul-shaking changes of middle life; certainly -his odd, early taste for taxidermy had carried him to the borders of a -sort of artistry; but her own gift was distinctly that of activity. She -seemed a wholly objective person. She was physically strong, inclined to -sternness, or at least to rigidity of view, yet was by no means unkind. -The servants respected her. She was troubled by no doubts. Her religious -faith, like her housekeeping practise, was a settled thing. Apparently -her thinking was all of the literal things about her. Of humor she had -never shown a trace. Without the strong proselyting impetus that had -directed and colored her life she might have become a rather hard, -sharp-tongued village housewife. But at whatever cost to herself she -had brought her tongue under control. As a result, having no mental -lightness or grace, she talked hardly at all. When she disapproved, -which was not seldom, she became silent. - -The relation between this couple and Griggsby Doane had grown subtly -complicated through the years that followed the death of Mrs. Doane. -Doane, up in his simply furnished attic room, living wholly alone, never -interfered in the slightest detail of Mrs. Boatwright's management. -Like her, when he disapproved, he kept still. But he might as well -have spoken out, for she knew, nearly always, what he was thinking. -The deepest blunder she made during this period was to believe, as she -firmly did, that she knew all, instead of nearly all his thoughts. The -side of him that she was incapable of understanding, the intensely, -warmly human side, appeared to her merely as a curiously inexplicable -strain of weakness in him that might, some day, crop out and make -trouble. She felt a strain of something disastrous in his nature. She -regarded his growing passion for solitude as a form of self-indulgence. -She knew that he was given more and more to brooding; and brooding--all -independent thought, in fact--alarmed her. Her own deepest faith was -in what she thought of as submission to divine will and in -self-suppression. But she respected him profoundly. And he respected -her. Each knew something of the strength in the other's nature. And so -they lived on from day to day and year to year in a practised avoidance -of conflict or controversy. And between them her busy little husband -acted as a buffer without ever becoming aware that a buffer was -necessary in this quiet, well-ordered, industrious compound. - -Regarding the change of tone for the more severe and the worse that -had impressed and disturbed Withery, none of the three but Duane had -formulated a conscious thought. Probably the less kindly air was really -more congenial to Mrs. Boatwright. Her husband was not a man ever to -survey himself and his environment with detachment. And both were much -older and more severe at this time than they were to be at fifty. - -The introduction of Betty Doane into this delicately balanced household -precipitated a crisis. Breakfast was served in the mission house at a -quarter to eight. Not once in a month was it five minutes late. A delay -of half an hour would have thrown Mrs. Boatwright out of her stride for -the day. - -During the first few days after her arrival Betty appeared on time. It -was clearly necessary. Mrs. Boatwright was hostile. Her father was busy -and preoccupied. She herself was moved deeply by a girlish determination -to find some small niche for herself in this driving little community. -The place was strange to her. There seemed little or no companionship. -Even Miss Hemphill, the head teacher, whom she remembered from her -girlhood, and Dr. Mary Cassin, who was in charge of the dispensary -and who had a pleasant, almost pretty face, seemed as preoccupied as -Griggsby Doane. During her mother's lifetime there had been an air of -friendliness, of kindness, about the compound that was gone now. Perhaps -less work had been accomplished then than now under the firm rule of -Mrs. Boatwright, but it had been a happier little community. - -From the moment she rode in through the great oak, nail-studded gates -of the compound, and the mules lurched to their knees, and her father -helped her out through the little side door of the red and blue litter, -Betty knew that she was exciting disapproval. The way they looked at her -neat traveling suit, her becoming turban, her shoes, worked sharply -on her sensitive young nerves. She was aware even of the prim way they -walked, these women--of their extremely modest self-control--and of the -puzzling contrast set up with the free activity of her own slim body; -developed by dancing and basketball and healthy romping into a grace -that had hitherto been unconscious. - -And almost from that first moment, herself hardly aware of what she was -about but feeling that she must be wrong, struggling bravely against -an increasing hurt, her unrooted, nervously responsive young nature -struggled to adapt itself to the new environment. A pucker appeared -between her brows; her voice became hushed and faintly, shyly earnest -in tone. Mrs. Boatwright at once gave her some classes of young girls. -Betty went to Miss Hemphill for detailed advice, and earnestly that -first evening read into a work on pedagogics that the older teacher, -after a kindly enough talk, lent her. - -She went up to her father's study, just before bedtime on the first -evening, in a spirit of determined good humor. She wanted him to see how -well she was taking hold.... But she came down in a state of depression -that kept her awake for a long time lying in her narrow iron bed, gazing -out into the starlit Chinese heavens. She felt his grave kindness, but -found that she didn't know him. Here in the compound, with all his -burden of responsibility settled on his broad shoulders, he had receded -from her. He would sit and look at her, with sadness in his eyes, not -catching all she said; then would start a little, and smile, and take -her hand. - -She found that she couldn't unpack all her things; not for days. There -were snapshots of boy and girl members of “the crowd,” away off there, -beyond the brown hills, beyond the ruined wall, beyond the yellow -plains, and the Pacific Ocean and the wide United States, off in a -little New Jersey town, on the other side of the world. There were -parcels of dance programs, with little white pencils dangling from -silken white cords. There were programs of plays, with cryptic -pencilings, and copies of a high-school paper, and packets of letters. -She couldn't trust herself to look at these treasures. And she put her -drawing things away. - -And other more serious difficulties arose to provoke sober thoughts. -One occurred the first time she played tennis with her father; the day -before Li Hsien's suicide. The court had been laid out on open ground -adjoining the compound. Small school buildings and a wall shut it off -from the front street, and a Chinese house-wall blocked the other end; -but the farther side lay open to a narrow footway. Here a number of -Chinese youths gathered and watched the play. It happened that none of -the white women attached to the mission at this time was a tennis -player; and the spectacle of a radiant girl darting about with grace and -zest and considerable athletic skill was plainly an experience to the -onlookers. At first they were respectful enough; but as their numbers -grew voices were raised, first in laughter, then in unpleasant comment. -Finally all the voices seemed to burst out at once in chorus of ribaldry -and invective. Betty stopped short in her play, alarmed and confused. - -These shouted remarks grew in insolence. All through her girlhood Betty -had grown accustomed to occasional small outbreaks from the riff-raff of -T'ainan. She recalled that her father had always chosen to ignore -them. But there was a new boldness evident in the present group, as -the numbers increased and more and more voices joined in. And it was -evident, from an embroidered robe here and there, that not all were -riff-raff. - -Her father lowered his racket and walked to the net. - -“I'm sorry, dear,” he said; “but this won't do.” - -Obediently she returned to the mission house; while Doane went over to -the fence. But before he could reach it the youths, jeering, hurried -away. That evening he told Betty he would have a wall built along the -footway. - -2 - -Within less than a week Betty found herself fighting off a -heart-sickness that was to prove, for the time, irresistible. On the -sixth evening, after the house had became still and her big, kind father -had said good night--in some ways, at moments, he seemed almost close to -her; at other moments, especially now, at night, in the solitude, he was -hopelessly far away, a dim figure on the farther shore of the gulf that -lies, bottomless, between every two human souls--she locked herself in -her little room and sat, very still, with drooping face and wet eyes, by -the open window. - -The big Oriental city was silent, asleep, except for the distant sound -of a watchman banging his gong and shouting musically on his rounds. -The spring air, soft, moistly warm, brought to her nostrils the smell -of China; and brought with it, queerly disjointed, hauntlike memories of -her childhood in the earlier mission house that had stood on this same -bit of ground. She closed her eyes, and saw her mother walking in quiet -dignity about the compound, the same compound in which Luella Brenty, -a girl of hardly more than her-own present age, was, in 1900, burned -at the stake. Down there where the ghostly tablet stood, by the chapel -steps. - -She shivered. There was trouble now. They were talking about it among -themselves, if not in her presence. That would doubtless explain her -father's preoccupation.... She must hurry to bed. She knew she was -tired; and it wouldn't do to be late for breakfast. And she had a class -in English at 8:45. - -But instead she got out the bottom tray of her trunk and mournfully -staring long at each, went through her photographs. She had been a nice -girl, there in the comfortable American town. Here she seemed less nice. -As if, in some way, over there in the States, her nature had changed for -the worse. They looked at her so. They were not friendly. No, not that. -Yet this was home, her only home. The other had seemed to be home, but -it was now a dream... gone. She could never again pick up her place in -the old crowd. It would be changing. That, she thought, in the brooding -reverie known to every imaginative, sensitive boy and girl, was the sad -thing about life. It slipped away from you; you could nowhere put your -feet down solidly. If, another year, she could return, the crowd would -be changed. New friendships would be formed. The boys who had been fond -of her would now be fond of others. Some of the girls might be married... -She herself was changed. A man--an older man, who had been married, -was, in a way, married at the time---had taken her in his arms and -kissed her. It w'as a shock. It hurt now. She couldn't think how it had -happened, how it had ever begun. She couldn't even visualize the man, -now, with her eyes closed. She couldn't be sure even that she liked him. -He was a strange being. He had interested her by startling her. -Romance had seized them. He said that. He said it would be different at -Shanghai. It was different; very puzzling, saddening. There was no doubt -as to what Mrs. Boatwright would say about it, if she knew. Or Miss -Hemphill. Any of them.... She wondered what her father would say. She -couldn't tel! him. It had to be secret. There were things in life that -had to be; but she wondered what he would say. - -But she was, with herself, here in her solitude, honest about it. It had -happened. She didn't blame the man. In his strange way, he was real. He -had meant it. She had read his letter over and over, on the steamer, and -here in T'ainan. It was moving, exciting to her that odd letter. And he -had gone without a further word because he felt it to be the best way. -She was sure of that.... She didn't blame herself, though it hurt. No, -she couldn't blame him. Yet it was now, as it had been at the time, -a sort of blinding, almost an unnerving shock.... Probably they would -never meet again. It was a large world, after all; you couldn't go back -and pick up dropped threads. But if they should meet, by some queer -chance, what would they do, what could they say? For he lingered vividly -with her; his rough blunt phrases came up, at lonely moments, in her -mind. He had stirred and, queerly, bewilderingly, humbled her.... She -wondered, all nerves, what his wife was like. How she looked. - -Perhaps it was this change in her that these severe women noticed. -Perhaps her inner life lay open to their experienced eyes. She could do -nothing about it, just set her teeth and live through somehow.... Though -it couldn't be wholly that, because she had worn the clothes they didn't -like before it happened, and had danced, and played like a child. And -they didn't seem to care much for her drawing; though Miss Hemphill had, -she knew, suggested to Mr. Boatwright that he let her try teaching a -small class of the Chinese girls.... No, it wasn't that. It must, then, -be something in her nature. - -She had read, back home--or in the States--in a woman's magazine, that -every woman has two men in her life, the one she loves, or who has -stirred her, and the one she marries. The girls, in some excitement, had -discussed it. There had been confidences. - -She might marry. It was possible. And even now she saw clearly enough, -as every girl sees when life presses, that marriage might, at any -moment, present itself as a way out. The thought was not stimulating. -The pictures it raised lacked the glowing color of her younger and more -romantic dreams.... That mining engineer was writing her, from Korea. -His name was Apgar, Harold B. Apgar; he was stocky, strong, with an -attractive square face and quiet gray eyes. She liked him. But his -letters were going to be hard to answer. - -The soft air that fanned her softer cheek brought utter melancholy. She -felt, as only the young can feel, that her life, with her merry youth, -was over. Grim doors had closed on it. Joy lay behind those doors. Ahead -lay duties, discipline, the somber routine of womanhood. - -She shivered and stirred. This brooding wouldn't do. - -She got out a pad of paper and a pencil, and sitting there in the dim -light, sketched with deft fingers the roofs and trees of T'ainan, as -they appeared in the moonlight of spring, with a great faint gate tower -bulking high above a battlemented wall. Until far into the morning she -drew, forgetful of the hours, finding a degree of melancholy pleasure in -the exercise of the expressive faculty that had become second nature to -her. - -She slept, then, like a child, until mid-forenoon. It was nearly eleven -o'clock when she hurried, ready to smile quickly to cover her confusion, -down to the dining-room. - -The breakfast things had been cleared away more than two hours earlier. -The table boy (so said the cook) had gone to market. She ate, rather -shamefaced, a little bread and butter (she was finding it difficult to -get used to this tinned butter from New Zealand). - -In the parlor Mrs. Boatwright sat at her desk. She heard Betty at the -door, lifted her head for a cool bow, then resumed her work. Not a word -did she speak or invite. There was an apology trembling on the tip of -Betty's tongue, but she had to hold it back and turn away. - -3 - -The day after the suicide of Li Hsien rumors began to drift into the -compound. News travels swiftly in China. The table “boy” (a man of -fifty-odd) brought interesting bits from the market, always a center -for gossip of the city and the mid-provincial region about it. The old -gate-keeper, Sun Shao-i, picked up much of the roadside talk. And the -several other men helpers about the compound each contributed his -bit. The act of the fanatical student had, at the start, as Doane -anticipated, an electrical effect on public sentiment. Suicide is by no -means generally regarded in China as a sign of failure. It is employed, -at times of great stress, as a form of deliberate protest; and is then -taken as heroism. - -So reports came that the always existent hatred of foreigners was -rising, and might get out of control. A French priest was murdered on -the Kalgan highway, after protracted torture during which his eyes and -tongue were fed to village dogs. This, doubtless, as retaliation for -similar practises commonly attributed to the white missionaries. The -fact that the local Shen magistrate promptly caught and beheaded a few -of the ringleaders appeared to have small deterrent effect on public -feeling. - -Detachments of strange-appearing soldiers, wearing curious insignia, -were marching into the province over the Western Mountains. A native -worker at one of the mission outposts wrote that they broke into his -compound and robbed him of food, but made little further trouble. - -Reports bearing on the activities of the new Great Eye Society--already -known along the wayside as “The Lookers”--were coming in daily. The -Lookers were initiating many young men into their strange magic, which -appeared to differ from the incantations of the Boxers of 1900 more in -detail than in spirit. - -And in the western, villages this element was welcoming the new -soldiers. - -Here in T'ainan disorder was increasing. An old native, helper of Dr. -Cassin in the dispensary, was mobbed on the street and given a beating -during which his arm was broken. He managed to walk to the compound, and -was now about with the arm in a sling, working quietly as usual. But it -was evident that native Christians must, as usual in times of trouble, -suffer for their faith. - -On the following afternoon the tao-tai called, in state, with bearers, -runners, soldiers and secretaries. The main courtyard of the compound -was filled with the richly colored chairs and the silks and satins and -plumed ceremonial hats of his entourage. For more than an hour he -was closeted with Griggsby Doane, while the Chinese schoolgirls, very -demure, stole glances from curtained windows at the beautiful young men -in the courtyard. - -By this impressive visit, and by his long stay, Chang Chih Ting clearly -meant to impress on the whole city his friendship for these foreign -devils. For the whole city would know of it within an hour; all middle -Hansi would know by nightfall. - -He brought disturbing news. It had been obvious to Doane that the -menacing new society could hardly spread and thrive without some sort -of secret official backing. He was inclined to trust Chang. He believed, -after days of balancing the subtle pros and cons in his mind, that -Pao Ting Chuan would keep order. And he knew that the official who was -responsible for the province--as Pao virtually was--could keep order if -he chose. - -Chang, always naively open with Doane, supported him in this view. But -it was strongly rumored at the tao-tai's yamen that the treasurer, Kang -Hsu, old as he was, weakened by opium, for the past two or three -years an inconsiderable figure in the province, had lately been in -correspondence with the Western soldiers. And officers from his yamen -had been recognized as among the drill masters of the Looker bands. -Chang had reported these proceedings to His Excellency, he said (“His -Excellency,” during this period, meant always Pao, though Kang Hsu, as -treasurer, ranked him) and had been graciously thanked. It was also said -that Kang had cured himself of opium smoking by locking himself in a -room and throwing pipe, rods, lamp and all his supply of the drug out of -a window. For two weeks he had suffered painfully, and had nearly died -of a diarrhea; but now had recovered and was even gaining in weight, -though still a skeleton. - -Doane caught himself shaking his head, with Chang, over this remarkable -self-cure. It would apparently be better for the whites were Kang to -resume his evil ways. It was clear to these deeply experienced men that -Kang's motives would be mixed. Doubtless he had been stirred to jealousy -by Pao. It seemed unlikely that he, or any prominent mandarin, could -afford to run the great risks involved in setting the province afire -so soon after 1900. Perhaps he knew a way to lay the fresh troubles at -Pao's gate. Or perhaps he had come to believe, with his befuddled old -brain, in the Looker incantations. Only seven years earlier the belief -of ruling Manchus in Boxer magic had led to the siege of the legations -and something near the ruin of China. Come to think of it, Kang, unlike -Pao and Chang, was a Manchu. - -Chang also brought with him a copy of the Memorial left by Li Hsien, -which it appeared was being widely circulated in the province. The -document gave an interesting picture of the young man's complicated -mind. His death had been theatrical and, in manner, Western, modern. -Suicides of protest were traditionally managed in private. But -the memorial was utterly Chinese, written with all the customary -indirection, dwelling on his devotion to his parents and his native -land, as on his own worthlessness; quoting apt phrases from Confucius, -Mencius and Tseng Tzu; quite, indeed, in the best traditional manner. -And he left a letter to his elder brother, couched in language humble -and tender, giving exact directions for his funeral, down to the -arrangement of his clothing and the precise amount to be paid to the -Taoist priest, together with instructions as to the disposition of -his small personal estate. Doane pointed out that these documents -were designed to impress on the gentry his loyal conformity to ancient -tradition, while his motives were revolutionary and his final act -was designed to excite the mob at the fair and folk of their class -throughout the province. Chang believed he had scholarly help in -preparing the documents. And both men felt it of sober significance -that the memorial was addressed to “His Excellency, Kang Hsu, Provincial -Treasurer.” - -That Li Hsien's inflammatory denunciation of “the foreign engineer at -Ping Yang” had an almost immediate effect was indicated by the news -from that village at the railhead. M. Puurmont wrote, in French, that -an Australian stake-boy had been shot through the lungs while helping an -instrument man in the hills. He was alive, but barely so, at the time -of writing. As a result of this and certain lesser difficulties, M. -Pourmont was calling in his engineers and mine employees, and putting -them to work improvising a fort about his compound, and had telegraphed -Peking for a large shipment of tinned food. He added that there would -be plenty of room in case Doane later should decide to gather in his -outpost workers and fall back toward the railroad. - -Doane translated this letter into Chinese for Chang's benefit. - -“Has he firearms?” asked the tao-tai. - -Doane inclined his head. “More than the treaty permits,” he replied. “He -told me last winter that he thought it necessary.” - -“It is as well,” said Chang. “Though it is not necessary for you to -leave yet. To do that would be to invite misunderstanding.” - -“It would invite attack,” said Doane. - -It was on the morning after Chang's call that the telegram came from Jen -Ling Pu. Doane was crossing the courtyard when he heard voices in -the gate house; then Sun Shao-i came down the steps and gave him the -message. He at once sent a chit to Pao, writing it in pencil against -a wall; then ordered a cart brought around. Within an hour the boy -was back. Pao had written on the margin of the note: “Will see you -immediately.” - -For once the great mandarin did not keep him waiting. The two inner -gates of the yamen opened for him one after the other, and his cart -was driven across the tiled inner court to the yamen porch. It was an -unheard-of honor. Plainly, Pao, like the lesser Chang, purposed standing -by his guns, and meant that the city should know. By way of emphasis, -Pao himself, tall, stately, magnificent in his richly embroidered robe, -the peacock emblem of a civil mandarin of the third-class embroidered -on the breast, the girdle clasp of worked gold, wearing the round hat of -office crowned with a large round ruby--Pao, deep and musical of voice, -met him in the shadowy porch and conducted him to the reception room. -Instantly the tea appeared, and they could talk. - -“Your Excellency,” said Doane, “a Christian worker in So T'ung, one Jen -Ling Pu, telegraphs me that strange soldiers, helped by members of the -Great Eye Society, last night attacked his compound. They have burned -the gate house, but have no firearms. At eight this morning, with the -aid of the engineer for the Ho Shan Company in that region, and with -only two revolvers, he was defending the compound. I am going there. I -will leave this noon.” - -“I hear your alarming words with profound regret,” Pao's deep voice -rolled about the large high room. “My people are suffering under an -excitement which causes them to forget their responsibility as neighbors -and their duty to their fellow men. I will send soldiers with you.” - -“Soldiers should be sent, Your Excellency, and at once. Well-armed men. -But I shall not wait.” - -“You are not going alone? And not in your usual manner, on foot?” - -“Yes, Your Excellency.” - -“But that may be unsafe.”. - -“My safety is of little consequence.” - -“It is of great consequence to me.” - -“For that I thank you. But it is to So T'ung a hundred and eighty _li_. -The best mules or horses will need two days. I can walk there in less -than one day. I have walked there in twenty hours.” - -“You are a man of courage. I will order the soldiers to start by noon.” - -Back at the compound, Doane assembled his staff in one of the -schoolrooms. Mr. and Mrs. Boatwright were there, Miss Hemphill and Dr. -Cassin. He laid the telegram before them, and repeated his conversation -with the provincial judge. - -They listened soberly. For a brief time one spoke. Then Mrs. Boatwright -asked, bluntly: - -“You are sure you ought to go?” - -Doane inclined his head. - -“If things are as bad as this, how about our safety here?” - -“You will be protected. Both Pao and Chang will see to that. And in case -of serious danger--something unforeseen, you must demand an escort to -Ping Yang. You will be safe there with Monsieur Pourmont.” - -“How about your own safety?” - -“I have put the responsibility squarely on Pao's shoulders. He knows -what I am going to do. He is sending soldiers after me. He will -undoubtedly telegraph ahead; he'll have to do that.” - -4 - -Betty was in his study, standing by the window. She turned quickly when -he came in. He closed the door, and affecting a casual manner passed her -with a smile and went into the bedroom for the light bag with a shoulder -strap, the blanket roll and the ingenious light folding cot that he -always carried on these expeditions if there was likelihood of his -being caught overnight at native inns. He put on his walking boots and -leggings, picked up his thin raincoat and the heavy stick that was his -only weapon, and returned to the study. - -He felt Betty's eyes on him, and tried to speak in an offhand manner. - -“I'm off to So T'ung, Betty. Be back within two or three days.” - -She came over, slowly, hesitating, and lingered the blanket roll. - -“Will there he danger at So T'ung, Dad?” she asked gently. - -“Very little, I think.” - -He saw that neither his words nor his manner answered the questions in -her hind. Patting her shoulder, he added: - -“Kiss me good-by, child. You've been listening to the chatter of the -compound. The worst place for gossip in the world.” - -But she laid a light finger on the court-plaster that covered a cut on -his cheek-bone. - -“You never said a word about that, Dad. It was the riot at the fair. I -know. You had to fight with them. And Li Hsien killed himself.” - -“But His Excellency put down the trouble at once. That is over.” - -She sank slowly into the swivel chair before the desk; dropped her cheek -on her hand; said, in a low uneven voice: - -“No one talks to me... tells me...” - -He looked down at her, standing motionless. His eyes filled. Then, -deliberately, he put his park aside, and seated himself at the other -side of the desk. - -She looked up, with a wistful smile. - -“I'm not afraid, Dad.” - -“You wouldn't be,” said he gravely. - -“No. But there is trouble, of course.” - -“Yes. There is trouble.” - -“Do you think it will be as--as bad as--nineteen hundred?” - -“No... no, I'm sure it won't. The officials simply can't afford to let -that awful thing happen again.” - -“It would be... well, discouraging,” said she thoughtfully. “Wouldn't -it? To have all your work undone again.” - -He found himself startled by her impersonal manner. He saw her, abruptly -then, as a mature being. He didn't know how to talk to her. This -thoughtful young woman was, curiously, a stranger.... And this was the -first moment in which it had occurred to him that she might already have -had beginning adult experience. She was an individual; had a life of -her own to manage. There would have been men. She was old enough to have -thought about marriage, even. It seemed incredible.... He sighed. - -“You're worried about me,” she said. - -“I shouldn't have brought you out here, dear.” - -“I don't fit in.” - -“It is a great change for you.” - -“I... I'm no good.” - -“Betty, dear--that is not true. I can't let you say that, or think it.” - -“But it's the truth. I'm no good. I've tried. I have, Dad. You know, to -put everything behind me and make myself take hold.... And then I draw -half the night, and miss my classes in the morning. It seems to go -against my nature, some way. No matter how hard I try, it doesn't work. -The worst of it is, in my heart I know it isn't going to work.” - -“I shouldn't have brought you out here.” - -“But you couldn't help that, Dad.” - -“It did seem so.... I'm planning now to send you back as soon as we can -manage it.” - -“But, Dad... the expense...!” - -“I know. I am thinking about that. There will surely be a way to manage -it, a little later. I mean to find a way.” - -“But I can't go back to Uncle Frank's.” - -“I must work it out so that it won't be a burden to him.” - -“You mean... pay board?” - -“Yes.” - -“But think, Dad! I've cost you so much already!” - -“I am glad you have, dear. I think I've needed that. And I want you to -go back to the Art League. You have a real talent. We must make the most -of it.” Betty's gaze strayed out the window. Her father was a dear man. -She hadn't dreamed he could see into her problems like this. She was -afraid she might cry, so she spoke quickly. - -“But that means making me still more a burden!” - -“It is the sort of burden 1 would love, Betty. But don't misunderstand -me--I can't do all this now.” - -“Oh, I know!” - -“You may have to be patient for a time. Tell me, dear, first though... -is it what you want most?” - -“Oh... why...” - -“Answer me if you can. If you know what you want most.” - -“I wonder if I do know. It's when I try to think that out clearly that -it seems to me I'm no good.” - -“I recognize, of course, that you are reaching the age when many girls -think of marrying.” - -“I... oh...” - -“I don't want to intrude into your intimate thoughts, dear. But in so -far as we can plan together... it may help if...” - -She spoke with a touch of reserve that might have been, probably was, -shyness. - -“There have been men, of course, who---well, wanted to marry me. This -last year. There was one in New York. He used to come out and take me -riding in his automobile. I--I always made some of the other girls come -with us.” - -Doane found it impossible to visualize this picture. When he was last -in the States there were no automobiles on the streets. It suggested -a condition of which he knew literally nothing, a wholly new set of -influences in the life of young people. The thought was alarming; he had -to close his eyes on it for a moment. Much as his daughter had seemed -like a visitor from another planet, she had never seemed so far off -as now. And he fell to thinking, along with this new picture, of the -terribly hard struggle they had had out here, since 1900, in rebuilding -the mission organization, in training new workers and creating a new -morale. He felt tired.... His brain was tired. It would help to get out -on the road again, swinging gradually into the rhythm of his forty-inch -stride. Once more he would walk himself off, even as he hastened on an -errand of rescue. - -Betty was speaking again. - -“And there's one now. He's in Korea, a mining engineer. He's awfully -nice. But I--I don't think I could marry him.” - -“Do you love him, Betty?” - -“N--no. No, I don't. Though I've wondered, sometimes, about these -things....” The person she was wondering about, as she said this, was -Jonathan Brachey. Suddenly, with her mind's eye, she saw this clearly. -And it was startling. She couldn't so much as mention his name; -certainly not to her father, kind and human as he seemed. But she would -never hear from him again; not now. If he could live through those first -few weeks without so much as writing, he could let the years go. -That would have been the test for her sort of nature, and she could -understand no other sort. - -She compressed her lips. She didn't know that her face showed something -of the trouble in her mind. She spoke, bravely, with an abruptness that -surprised herself a little, as it surprised him. - -“No, Dad, I shan't marry. Not for years, if ever. I'd rather work. I'd -rather work hard, if only I could fit in somewhere.” - -“I'm seeing it a little more clearly, Betty.”' He arose. “On the way out -I'll tell Mrs. Boatwright and Miss Hemphill both that I don't want you -to do any more work about the compound.... No, dear, please! Let -me finish!... When you're a few years older, you'll learn as I have -learned, that the important thing is to find your own work, and find -it early. So many lives take the wrong direction, through mistaken -judgment, or a mistaken sense of duty. And nothing--nothing--can so -mislead us as a sense of duty.” - -He said this with an emphasis that puzzled Betty. - -“The thing for you,” he went on, “is to draw. And dream. The dreaming -will work out in more drawing, I imagine. For you have the nature of -the artist. Your mother had it. You are like her, with something of my -energy added. Don't let the atmosphere of the compound pull you down. -It mustn't do that. Live within yourself. Let your energy go into honest -expression of yourself. You see what I'm getting at--_be_ yourself. -Don't try to be some one else.... You happen to be here in an -interesting time. There's a possibility that the drawings you could make -out here, now, would have a value later on. So try to make a record -of your life here with your pencil. And don't be afraid of happiness, -dear.” He pointed to a row of jonquils in a window-box. “Happiness is -as great a contribution to life as duty. Think how those flowers -contribute! And remember that you are like them to me.” - -She clung to him, in impulsive affection, as she kissed him good-by. And -it wasn't until late that night, as she lay in her white bed, such a glow -did he leave in her warm little heart, that the odd nature of his talk -caught her attention. She had never, never, heard him say such things. -It was as if he, her great strong dad, were himself starved for -happiness. As if he wanted her to have all the rich beauty of life that -had passed him grimly by. - -She fell to wondering, sleepily, what he meant by finding a way to get -the money. There was no way. Though it was dear of him even to think of -it. - -She fell asleep then. - - - - -CHAPTER VI--CATASTROPHE - - -1 - -DOANE left the compound a little before noon, and arrived at So T'ung -at six the following morning. The distance, a hundred and eighty _li_, -was just short of sixty-five English miles. The road was little more -than a footpath, so narrow that in the mountains, where the grinding of -ages of traffic and the drainage from eroded slopes had long ago worn it -down into a series of deep, narrow canyons, the came! trains, with -their wide panniers, always found passing a matter of difficulty and -confusion. Here it skirted a precipice, or twisted up and up to surmount -the Pass of the Flighting Geese, just west of the sacred mountain; there -it wandered along the lower hillsides above a spring torrent that would -be, a few months later, a trickling rivulet. His gait averaged, over -all conditions of road and of gradient, about five miles an hour. He -followed, on this occasion, the principle of walking an hour, then -resting fifteen minutes. And toward midnight he set up his cot by the -roadside, in the shelter of a tree by a memorial arch, and gave himself -two hours of sleep. - -The little hill city of So T'ung was awake and astir, with gates open -and traffic already flowing forth. There were no signs of disorder. -But Doane noted that the anti-foreign mutterings and sneers along the -roadside (to which he had grown accustomed twenty years earlier) -were louder and more frequent than common. For himself he had not the -slightest fear. His great height, his enormous strength, his commanding -eye, had always, except on the one recent occasion of the riot at the -T'ainan fair, been enough to cow any native who was near enough to do -him injury. And added to this moral and physical strength he had lately -felt a somewhat surprising recklessness. He felt this now. He didn't -care what happened, so long as he might be busy in the thick of it. His -personal safety took on importance only when he kept Betty in mind. He -must save himself to provide for her. And, of course, in the absence of -any other strong personality, the mission workers needed him; they had -no one else, just now, on whom to lean. And then there were the hundreds -of native Christians; they needed him, for they would be slaughtered -first... if it should come to that. They would be loyal, and would die, -at the last, for their faith. - -During the long hours of walking through the still mountain night, his -thoughts ranged far. He considered talking over his problems with M. -Pourmont. There should be work for a strong, well-trained man somewhere -in the railroad development that was going on all over the yellow -kingdom. Preferably in some other region, where he wouldn't be known. -Starting fresh, that was the thing! - -Over and over the rather blank thought came around, that a man has no -right to bring into the world a child for whom he can not properly, -fully, care. And it came down to money, to some money; not as wealth, -but as the one usable medium of human exchange. A little of it, honestly -earned, meant that a man was productive, was paying his way. A saying of -Emerson's shot in among his racing thoughts--something about clergymen -always demanding a handicap. It was wrong, he felt. It was--he went as -far as this, toward dawn--parasitic. A man, to live soundly, healthily, -must shoulder his way among his fellows, prove himself squarely. - -And he dwelt for hours at a time on the ethical basis of all this -missionary activity. It was what he came around to all night. There was -an assumption--it was, really, the assumption on which his present life -was based--that the so-called Christian civilization, Western Europe -and America--owed its superiority to what he thought of as the Christian -consciousness. That superiority was always implied. It was the -motive power back of this persistent proselytizing. But to-night, -as increasingly of late years, he found himself whittling away the -implications of a spiritual and even ethical quality in that superiority -of the White over the Yellow. More and more clearly it seemed to come -down to the physical. It was the amazing discoveries in what men -call modern science, and the wide application in industry of these -discoveries, that made much of the difference. Then there were the -accidents of climate and soil and of certain happy mixtures of blood -through conquests... these things made a people great or weak. And -lesser accidents, such as a simple alphabet, making it easy and cheap -to print ideas; the Chinese alphabet and the lack of easy transportation -had held China back, he believed.... Back of all these matters lay, of -course, a more powerful determinant; the genius that might be waxing or -waning in a people. The genius of America was waxing, clearly; and the -genius of China had been waning for six hundred years. But in her turn, -China had waxed, as had Rome, and Greece, and Egypt. None of these had -known the Christian consciousness, yet each had run her course. And -Greece and Rome, without it, had risen high. Rome, indeed, whatever the -reason, had begun to wane from the very dawn of Christianity; and had -finally succumbed, not to that, but to barbarians who had in them crude -physical health and enterprise. - -The more deeply he pondered, the more was he inclined to question -the importance of Christianity in the Western scheme. For Western -civilization, to his burning eyes, walking at night, alone, over the -hills of ancient Hansi, looked of a profoundly materialistic nature. You -felt that, out here, where oil and cigarettes and foreign-made opium and -merchandise of all sorts were pushing in, all the time, about and beyond -the missionaries. And with bayonets always bristling in the background. -The West hadn't the finely great gift of Greece or the splendid unity of -Rome. Its art was little more than a confusion of copies, a library -of historical essays. And art seemed, now, important. And as for -religion... Doane had moments of real bitterness, that night, about -religion. And he thought around and around a circle. The one strongest, -best organized church of the West--the one that made itself felt most -effectively in China--seemed to him not only opposed to the scientific -enterprise that was, if anything, peculiarly the genius of the West, but -insistent on superstitions (for so they looked, out here) beside which -the quiet rationalism of the Confucian drift seemed very reality. And -the period of the greatest power and glory of that church had been, to -all European civilization, the Dark Ages. The Reformation and the modern -free political spirit appeared to be cognates, yet the evangelical -churches fought science, in their turn, from their firm base of -divine revelation. It was difficult, to-night, to see the miracles and -mysteries of Christianity as other than legendary superstitions handed -down by primitive, credulous peoples. It was difficult to see them as -greatly different from the incantations of the Boxers or of these newer -Lookers. - -And then, of all those great peoples that had waxed and waned, China -alone remained.... There was a thought! She might wax again. For there -she was, as always. Without the Christian consciousness, the Chinese, of -all the great peoples, alone had endured. - -A fact slightly puzzling to Doane was that he thought all this under a -driving nervous pressure. Now and then his mind rushed him, got a little -out of control. And at these times he walked too fast. - -2 - -The mission station was situated in the northern suburbs of So -T'ung-fu, outside the wall. Duane went directly there. - -The mission compound lay a smoking ruin. Not a building of the five -or six that had stood in the walled acre, was now more than a heap of -bricks, with a Ft of wall or a chimney standing. The compound wall had -been battered down at a number of points, apparently with a heavy timber -that now lay outside one of the breaches. There was no sign of life. - -He walked in among the ruins. They were still too hot for close -examination. But he found the body of a white man lying in an open -space, clad in flannel shirt and riding breeches, with knee-high -laced boots of the sort commonly worn by engineers. The face was -unrecognizable. The top of the head, too, had been beaten in. But on the -back of the head grew' curly yellow' hair. From the figure evidently -a young man; one of Pourmont's adventurous crew; probably one of the -Australians or New Zealanders. A revolver lay near the outstretched -hand. Doane picked it up and examined it. Every chamber was empty. -And here and there along the path were empty cartridges; as if he had -retreated stubbornly, loading and firing as he could. Not far off lay -an empty cartridge box. That would be where he had filled for the last -time. He must have sent some of the bullets home; but the attackers -had removed their dead. Yes, closer scrutiny discovered a number of -blood-soaked areas along the path. - -A young Chinese joined him, announcing himself as a helper at the -station. Jen Ling Pu had sent him out over the rear wall, he said, with -the telegram to Mr. Doa ne. - -Together they carried the body of the white man to a clear space near -the wall and buried him in a shallow grave. Duane repeated the burial -service in brief form. - -The boy, whose name was Wen, explained that on his return from the -telegraph station he had found it impossible to get into the compound, -as it was then surrounded, and accordingly hid in the neighborhood. By -that time, he said, Jen, with the three or four helpers and servants who -had not perished in the other buildings, one or two native Bible-women, -a few children of native Christians and the white man were all in -the main house, and were firing through the windows. They had all -undoubtedly been burned to death, as only the white man had come out. He -himself could not get close enough to see much of what happened, -though he slipped in among the curious crowd outside and picked up what -information he could. The attacking parlies were by no means of one -mind or of settled purpose. The Lookers among them were for a quick -and complete massacre, as were the young rowdies who had joined in the -attack for the fun of it. But there were more moderate councils. And so -many were injured or killed by the accurate marksmanship of the young -foreign devil, that for a time they all seemed to lose heart. The -Lookers were subjected to ridicule by the crowd because by their -incantations they were supposed to render themselves invisible to -foreign eyes, and it was difficult to explain the high percentage of -casualties among them on the grounds of accidental contact with flying -bullets. Finally a ruse was decided on. The white man was to come out -for a parley. A student, recently attached to the yamen of the -local magistrate as an interpreter volunteered--in good faith, Wen -believed--to act in that capacity on this occasion. - -The meeting took place by one of the breaches in the wall. The engineer -demanded that the three principal leaders of the Lookers Le surrendered -to him on the spot, and held until the arrival of troops from T'ainan. -While they were pretending to listen, a party crept around behind the -wall. He heard them, stepped back in time to avoid being clubbed to -death, in a moment shot two of them dead, and shot also the captain of -the Lookers, who had been conducting the parley. Then, evidently, he -had backed tow ard the main house and had nearly reached it when his -cartridges gave out. - -Doane was busy, what with the improvised burial and with noting down -Wen's narrative, until nearly noon. By this time he was very sleepy. -There was nothing more he could do. The ruins of the main house would -not be cool before morning. Nor would the soldiers arrive. He decided -to call at once on the magistrate and arrange for a guard to be left in -charge of the compound; then to set up his cot in a cell in one of the -local caravansaries. He had brought a little food, and the magistrate -would give him what else he needed. The innkeeper would brew him tea.... -Before two o'clock he was asleep. - -3 - -He was awakened by a persistent light tapping at the door. Lying there -in the dusky room, fully clad, gazing out under heavy lids at the dingy -wall with its dingier banners hung about lettered with the Chinese -characters for happiness and prosperity, and at the tattered gray -paper squares through which came soft evening sounds of mules and asses -munching their fodder at the long open manger, of children talking, of -a carter singing to himself in quavering falsetto, it seemed to him -that the knocking had been going on for a very long time. His thoughts, -slowly coming awake, were of tragic stuff. Death stalked again the hills -of Hansi. Friends had been butchered. The blood of his race had been -spilled again. Life was a grim thing.... - -A voice called, in pidgin-English. - -He replied gruffly; sat up; struck a match and lighted the rush-light on -the table. It was just after eight. - -He went to the door; opened it. A small, soft, yellow Chinaman stood -there. - -“What do you want?” Doane asked in Chinese. - -The yellow man looked blank. - -“My no savvy,” he said. - -“What side you belong?” The familiar pidgin-English phrases sounded -grotesquely in Doane's ears, even as they fell from his own lips. - -“My belong Shanghai side,” explained the man. He was apparently a -servant. Some one would have brought him out here. Though to what end -it would be hard to guess, for a servant who can not make himself -understood has small value. And no Shanghai man can do that in Hansi. - -“What pidgin belong you this side?” - -“My missy wanchee chin-chin.” - -Thus the man. His mistress wished a word. It was odd. Who, what, would -his mistress be! - -Doane always made it a rule, in these caravansaries, to engage the -“number one” room if it was to be had. A countryside inn, in China, is -usually a walled rectangle of something less or more than a halfacre in -extent. Across the front stands the innkeeper's house, and the immense, -roofed, swinging gates, built of strong timbers and planks. Along one -side wall extend the stables, where the animals stand a row, looking -over the manger into the courtyard. Along the other side are cell-like -rooms, usually on the same level as the ground, with floors of dirt or -worn old tile, with a table, a narrow chair or two of bent wood, and -the inevitable brick _kang_, or platform bed with a tiny charcoal stove -built into it and a thickness or two of matting thrown over the dirt and -insect life of the crumbling surface. At the end of the court opposite' -the gate stands, nearly always, a small separate building, the floor -raised two or three steps from the ground. This is, in the pidgin -vernacular, the “number one” room. Usually, however, it is large enough -for division into two or three rooms. In the present instance there were -two rather large rooms on either side of an entrance hall. Doane had -been ushered into one of these rooms with no thought for the possible -occupant of the other, beyond sleepily noting that the door was closed. - -Hastily brushing his hair and smoothing the wrinkles out of his coat he -stepped across the hall. That other door was ajar now. He tapped; and -a woman's voice, a voice not unpleasing in quality, cried, in English, -“Come in!” - -4 - -She rose, as he pushed open the door, from the chair. She was -young--certainly in the twenties--and unexpectedly, curiously beautiful. -Her voice was Western American. Her abundant hair wras a vivid yellow. -She was clad in a rather elaborate negligee robe that looked odd in the -dingy room. Her cot stood by the paper windows, on a square of new white -matting. Two suit-cases stood on bricks nearer the _kang._ And a garment -was tacked up across the broken paper squares. - -“I'm sorry to trouble you,” she said breathlessly. “But it's getting -unbearable. I've waited here ever since yesterday for some word. I know -there was trouble. I heard so much shooting. And they made such a racket -yelling. They got into the compound here. I had to cover my windows, -you see. It was awful. All night I thought they'd murder me. And this -morning I slept a little in the chair. And then you came in... I saw -you... and I was wild to ask you the news. I thought perhaps you'd help -me. I've sat here for hours, trying to keep from disturbing you. I knew -you were sleeping.” - -She ran on in an ungoverned, oddly intimate way. - -“I'm glad to be of what service I--” He found himself saying something -or other; wondering with a strangely cold mind what he could possibly do -and why on earth she was here. His own long pent-up emotional nature was -answering hers with profoundly disturbing force. - -“I ought to ask you to sit down,” she was saying. She caught his arm -and almost forced him into the chair. She even stroked his shoulder, -nervously yet casually. He coldly told himself that he must keep steady, -impersonal; it was the unexpectedness of this queer situation, the shock -of it... - -“It's all right,” said she. “I'll sit on the cot. It's a pig-sty here. -But sometimes you can't help these things.... please tell me what -dreadful thing has happened!” - -She had large brown eyes... odd, with that hair!... and they met his, -hung on them. - -In a low measured voice he explained: - -“The natives attacked a mission station here--” - -“Oh, just a mission!” - -“They burned it down, and killed all but one of the workers there.” - -“Were they white?” - -“The workers were Chinese, Christian Chinese. But--” - -“Oh, I see! I couldn't imagine what it was all about. It's been -frightful. Sitting here, without a word. But if it was just among the -Chinese, then where's--I've got to tell you part of it--where's Harley -Beggins? He brought me out here. He isn't the kind that skips out -without a word. I've known him two years. He's a good fellow. You see, -this thing--whatever it is--leaves me in a hole. I can't just sit here.” - -“I am trying to tell you. Please listen as calmly as you can. First tell -me something about this Harley Beggins.” - -“He's with the Ho Shan Company. An engineer. But say--you don't -mean--you're not going to--” - -“He was a young man?” - -“Yes. Tall. Curly hair. A fine-looking young man. And very refined. His -family... but, my God, you--” - -“You must keep quiet!” - -“Keep quiet! I'd like to know how, when you keep me in suspense like -this!” She was on her feet now. - -“I am going to tell you. But you must control yourself. Mr. Beggins must -be the young engineer who tried to help the people in the compound.” - -“He was killed?” - -“Quiet! Yes, he was killed. I buried him this morning.” - -Then the young woman's nerves gave way utterly, Doane found his mind -divided between the cold thought of leaving her, perhaps asking the -magistrate to give her an escort down to Ting Yang or up through the -wall to Peking, and the other terribly strong impulse to stay. It was -clear that she was not--well, a good woman; excitingly clear. She said -odd things. “Well, see where this mess leaves _me!_” for one. And, -“What's to become of me? Do I just stay out here? Die here? Is this -all?”... When, daring a lull in the scene she was making he undertook to -go, she clung to him and sobbed on his shoulder. The young engineer had -meant little in her life. Her present emotion was almost wholly fright. - -He knew, then, that he couldn't go. He was being swept toward -destruction. It seemed like that. He could think coolly about it -during the swift moments. He could watch his own case. One by one, in -quick-flashing thoughts, he brought up all the arguments for morality, -for duty, for common decency, and one by one they failed him. Something -in life was too strong for him. Something in his nature.... This, then -was the natural end of all his brooding, speculating, struggling with -the demon of unbelief.... And even then he felt the hideously tragic -quality of this hour. - -5 - -She was, it came out, a notorious woman of Soo-chow Road, Shanghai; one -of the so-called “American girls” that have brought a good name to local -disgrace. The new American judge, at that time engaged in driving out -the disreputable women and the gamblers from the quasi protection of the -consular courts, had issued a warrant for her arrest, whereupon young -Beggins, who had been numbered among her “friends,” had undertaken to -protect her, out here in the interior, until the little wave of reform -should have passed. - -Despite her vulgarity, and despite the chill of spiritual death in his -heart, he wished to be kind to her. Something of the long-frustrated -emotional quality of the man overflowed toward her. He did what he -could; laid her case before the magistrate, and left enough money to buy -her a ticket to Peking from the northern railroad near Kalgan. This in -the morning. - -One other thing he did in the morning was to write to Hidderleigh, at -Shanghai, telling enough of the truth about his fall, and asking that -his successor be sent out at the earliest moment possible. And he sent -off the letter, early, at the Chinese post-office. At least he needn't -play the hypocrite. The worst imaginable disaster had come upon him. His -real life, it seemed, was over As for telling the truth at the mission, -his mind would shape a course. The easiest thing would be to tell -Boatwright, straight. Though in any case it would come around to them -from Shanghai. He had sealed his fate when he posted the letter. They -would surely know, all of them. Henry Withery would know. It would reach -the congregations back there in the States. At the consulates and up and -down the coast--where men drank and gambled and carved fortunes out of -great inert China and loved as they liked--they would be laughing at him -within a fortnight. - -And then he thought of Betty. - -That night, on the march back to T'ainan, he stood, a solitary figure on -the Pass of the Flighting Geese, looking up, arms outstretched, toward -the mountain that for thousands of years has been to the sons of Han a -sacred eminence; and the old prayer, handed down from another Oriental -race as uttered by a greater sinner than he, burst from his lips: - -“I will lift mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help!” - -But no help came to Griggsby Duane that night. With tears lying warm on -his cheeks he strode down the long slope toward Tainan. - - - -CHAPTER VII--LOVE IS A TROUBLE - - -1 - -IT WAS early morning--the first day of April--when the Pacific liner -that carried Betty Doane and Jonathan Brachey out of Yokohama dropped -anchor in the river below Shanghai and there discharged passengers and -freight for all central and northern China. - -Brachey, on that occasion, watched from his cabin porthole while Betty -and the Hasmers descended the accommodation ladder and boarded the -company's launch. Then, not before, he drank coffee and nibbled a roll. -His long face was gray and deeply lined. He had not slept. - -He went up to Shanghai on the next launch, walked directly across -the Bund to the row of steamship offices, and engaged passage on a -north-bound coasting steamer. That evening he dined alone, out on the -Yellow Sea, steaming toward Tsingtau, Chefu and (within the five days) -Tientsin. He hadn't meant to take in the northern ports at this time; -his planned itinerary covered the Yangtse Valley, where the disorderly -young shoots of revolution were ripening slowly into red flower. But he -was a shaken man. As he saw the problem of his romance, there were -two persons to be saved, Betty and himself. He had behaved, on the one -occasion, outrageously. He could see his action now as nothing other -than weakness, curiously despicable, in the light of the pitiless facts. -Reason had left him. Gusts of emotion lashed him. He now regarded -the experience as a storm that must be somehow weathered. He couldn't -weather it in Shanghai. Not with Betty there. He would surely seek her; -find her. With his disordered soul he would cry out to her. In this -alarming mood no subterfuge would appear too mean--sending clandestine -notes by yellow hands, arranging furtive meetings. - -He was, of course, running away from her, from his task, from himself. -It was expensive business. But he had meant to work up as far as -Tientsin and Peking before the year ran out. He was, after all, but -taking that part of it first. To this bit of justification he clung. He -passed but one night at Tientsin, in the curiously British hotel, on an -out-and-out British street, where one saw little more to suggest the -East than the Chinese policeman at the corner, an occasional passing -amah or mafoo, and the blue-robed, soft-footed hotel servants; then -on to Peking by train, an easy four-hour run, lounging in a European -dining-car where the allied troops had fought their way foot by foot -only seven years earlier. - -Brachey, though regarded by critical reviewers as a rising authority -on the Far East, had never seen Peking. India he knew; the Straits -Settlements--at Singapore and Penang he was a person of modest but real -standing; Borneo, Java, Celebes and the rest of the vast archipelago, -where flying fish skim a burnished sea and green islands float above a -shimmering horizon against white clouds; the Philippines, Siam, Cochin -China and Hongkong; but the swarming Middle Kingdom and its Tartar -capital were fresh fuel to his coldly eager mind. He stopped, of course, -at the almost Parisian hotel of the International Sleeping Car Company, -just off Legation Street. - -Peking, in the spring of 1907, presented a far from unpleasant aspect to -the eye of the traveler. The siege of the legations was already history -and half-forgotten; the quarter itself had been wholly rebuilt. The -clearing away of the crowded Chinese houses about the legations left -_à glacis_ of level ground that gave dignity to the walled enclosure. -Legation Street, paved, bordered by stone walks and gray compound-walls, -dotted with lounging figures of Chinese gatekeepers and alert sentries -of this or that or another nation--British, American, Italian, Austrian, -Japanese, French, Belgian, Dutch, German--offered a pleasant stroll of -a late afternoon when the sun was low. Through gateways there were -glimpses to be caught of open-air tea parties, of soldiers drilling, -or even of children playing. Tourists wandered afoot or rolled by in -rickshaws drawn by tattered blue and brown coolies. - -From the western end of the street beyond the American _glacis_, one -might see the traffic through the Chien Gate, with now and then a -nose-led train of camels humped above the throng; and beyond, the vast -brick walls and the shining yellow palace roofs of the Imperial City. -Around to the north, across the Japanese _glacis_, one could stroll, in -the early evening, to the motion-picture show, where one-reel films from -Paris were run off before an audience of many colors and more nations -and costumes, while a placid Chinaman manipulated a mechanical piano. - -2 - -Brachey had letters to various persons of importance along the street. -With the etiquette of remote colonial capitals, he had long since -trained himself to a mechanical conformity. Accordingly he devoted his -first afternoon to a round of calls, by rickshaw; leaving cards in the -box provided for the purpose at the gate house of each compound. Before -another day had gone he found return cards in his box at the hotel; -and thus was he established as _persona grata_ on Legation Street. -Invitations followed. The American minister had him for tiffin. There -were pleasant meals at the legation barracks. Tourist groups at the -hotel made the inevitable advances, which he met with austere dignity. -Meantime he busied himself discussing with experts the vast problems -confronting the Chinese in adjusting their racial life to the modern -world, and within a few days was jotting down notes and preparing -tentative outlines for his book. - -This activity brought him, at first, some relief from the emotional -storm through which he had been passing. Work, he told himself, was the -thing; work, and a deliberate avoidance of further entanglements. - -If, in taking this course, he was dealing severely with the girl whose -brightly pretty face and gently charming ways had for a time disarmed -him, he was dealing quite as severely with himself; for beneath his -crust of self-sufficiency existed shy but turbulent springs of feeling. -That was the trouble; that had always been the trouble; he dared not let -himself feel, lie had let go once before, just once, only to skim the -very border of tragedy. The color of that one bitter experience of his -earlier manhood ran through every subsequent act of his life. Month by -month, through the years, he had winced as he drew a check to the hard, -handsome, strange woman who had been, it appeared, his wife; who was, -incredibly, his wife yet. With a set face he had read and courteously -answered letters from this stranger. A woman of worldly wants, all of -which came, in the end, to money. The business of his life had settled -down to a systematic meeting of those wants. That, and industriously -employing his talent for travel and solitude. - -No, the thing was to think, not feel. To logic and will he pinned his -faith. Impulses rose every day, here in Peking, to write Betty. It -wouldn't be hard to trace her father's address. For that matter he -knew the city. He found it impossible to forget a word of hers. Vivid -memories of her round pretty face, of the quick humorous expression -about her brown eyes, the movements of her trim little head and slim -body, recurred with, if anything, a growing vigor They would leap into -his mind at unexpected, awkward moments, cutting the thread of sober -conversations. At such moments he felt strongly that impulse to explain -himself further. But his clear mind told him that there would be no good -in it. None. She might respond; that would involve them the more deeply. -He had gone too far. He had (this in the bitter hours) transgressed. The -thing was to let her forget; it would, he sincerely tried to hope, be -easier for her to forget than for himself He had to try to hope that. - -3 - -But on an evening the American military attaché dined with him. They -sat comfortably over the coffee and cigars at one side of the large -hotel dining-room. Brachey liked the attaché. His military training, his -strong practical instinct for fact, his absorption in his work, made -him the sort with whom Brachey, who had no small talk, really no -social grace, could let himself go. And the attaché knew China. He had -traversed the interior from Manchuria and Mongolia to the borders of -Thibet and the Loto country of Yunnan, and could talk, to sober ears, -interestingly. On this occasion, after dwelling long on the activity -of secret revolutionary societies in the southern provinces and in the -Yangtse Valley, he suddenly threw out the following remark: - -“But of course, Brachey, there's an excellent chance, right now, to -study a revolution in the making out here in Hansi. You can get into -the heart of it in less than a week's travel. And if you don't mind a -certain element of danger...” - -The very name of the province thrilled Brachey. He sat, fingering his -cigar, his face a mask of casual attention, fighting to control the -uprush of feeling. The attache was talking on. Brachey caught bits here -and there; “You've seen this crowd of banker persons from Europe around -the hotel? Came out over the Trans Siberian with their families. A -committee representing the Directorate of the Ho Shan Company. The story -is that they've been asked to keep out of Hansi for the present for fear -of violence.... You'd get the whole thing, out there--officials with a -stake 'n the local mines shrewdly stirring up trouble while pretending -to put it down; rich young students agitating, the Chinese equivalent of -our soap-box Socialists; and queer Oriental motives and twists that you -and I can't expect to understand.... The significant thing though, the -big fact for you, I should say--is that if the Hansi agitators succeed -in turning this little rumpus over the mining company into something of -a revolution against the Imperial Government, it'll bring them into an -understanding with the southern provinces. It may yet prove the deciding -factor in the big row. Something as if Ohio should go democratic this -year, back home. You see?... There are queer complications. Our Chinese -secretary says that a personal quarrel between two mandarins is -a prominent item in the mix-up.... That's the place for you, all -right--Hansi! They've got the narrow-gauge railway nearly through to -T'ainan-fu, I believe. You can pick up a guide here at the hotel. He'll -engage a cook. You won't drink the water, of course; better carry a few -cases of Tan San. And don't eat the green vegetables. Take some beef and -mutton and potatoes and rice. You can buy chickens and eggs. Get a money -belt and carry all the Mexican dollars you can stagger under. Provincial -money's no good a hundred miles away. Take some English gold for a -reserve. That's good everywhere. And you'll want your overcoat.” - -Five minutes later Brachey heard this: - -“A. P. Browning, the Agent General of the Ho Shan Company, is stopping -here now, along with the committee. Talk with him, first. Get the -company's view of it. He'll talk freely. Then go out there and have -a look--see for yourself. Say the word, and I'll give you a card to -Browning.” - -Now Brachey looked up. It seemed to him, so momentous was the hour, -that his pulse had stopped. He sat very still, looking at his guest, -obviously about to speak. - -The attaché, to whom this man's deliberate cold manner was becoming a -friendly enough matter of course, waited. - -“Thanks,” Brachey finally said. “Be glad to have it.” - -But the particular card, scribbled by the attaché, there across the -table, was never presented. For late that night, in a bitter revulsion -of feeling, Brachey tore it up. - -4 - -In the morning, however, when he stopped at the desk, the Belgian clerk -handed him a thick letter from his attorney in New York, forwarded from -his bank in Shanghai. He read and reread it, while his breakfast turned -cold; studied it with an unresponsive brain. - -It seemed that his wife's attorney had approached his with a fresh -proposal. Her plan had been to divorce him on grounds of desertion and -non-support; this after his refusal to supply what is euphemistically -termed “statutory evidence.” But the fact that she had from month to -month through the years accepted money from him, and not infrequently -had demanded extra sums by letter and telegram, made it necessary that -he enter into collusion with her to the extent of keeping silent and -permitting her suit to go through unopposed. His own instructions to his -lawyer stood flatly to the contrary. - -But a new element had entered the situation. She wished to marry again. -The man of her new choice had means enough to care for her comfortably. -And in her eagerness to be free she proposed to release him from payment -of alimony beyond an adjustment to cover the bare cost of her suit, on -condition that he withdraw his opposition. - -It was the old maneuvering and bargaining. At first thought it disgusted -and hurt him. The woman's life had never come into contact with his, -since the first few days of their married life, without hurting him. He -had been harsh, bitter, unforgiving. He had believed himself throughout -in the right. She had shown (in his view) no willingness to take -marriage seriously, give him and herself a fair trial, make a job of -it. She had exhibited no trait that he could accept as character. It had -seemed to him just that she should suffer as well as he. - -But now, as the meaning of the letter penetrated his mind, his spirits -began to rise. It was a tendency he resisted; but he was helpless. From -moment to moment his heart, swelled. Not once before in four years had -the thought of freedom occurred to him as a desirable possibility. But -now he knew that he would accept it, even at the cost of collusion and -subterfuge. He saw nothing of the humor in the situation; that he, who -had judged the woman so harshly, should find his code of ethics, his -very philosophy, dashed to the ground by a look from a pair of brown -eyes, meant little. It was simply that up to the present time an ethical -attitude had been the important thing, whereas now the important thing -was Betty. That was all there seemed to be to it. But then there had -been almost as little of humor as of love in the queerly solitary life -of Jonathan Brachey. - -He cabled his attorney, directly after breakfast, to agree to the -divorce. Before noon he had engaged a guide and arranged with him -to take the morning train southward to the junction whence that -narrow-gauge Hansi Line was pushing westward toward the ancient -provincial capital. - -In all this there was no plan. Brachey, confused, aware that the -instinctive pressures of life were too much for him, that he was beaten, -was soberly, breathlessly, driving toward the girl who had touched and -tortured his encrusted heart. He was not even honest with himself; he -couldn't be. He dwelt on the importance of studying the Hansi problem -at close range He decided, among other things, that he wouldn't permit -himself to see Betty, that he would merely stay secretly near her, -certainly until a cablegram from New York should announce his positive -freedom. In accordance with this decision he tore up his letters to her -as fast as they were written. If the fact that he was now writing such -letters indicated an alarming condition in his emotional nature, at -least his will was still intact. He proved that by tearing them up. He -even found this thought encouraging. - -But, of course, he had taken his real beating when he gave up his plans -and caught the coasting steamer at Shanghai. He was to learn now that -rushing away from Betty and rushing toward her were irradiations of the -same emotion. - -He left Peking on that early morning way-train of passenger and freight -cars, without calling again at the legation; merely sent a chit to the -Commandant of Marines to say that he was off. He had not heard of the -requirement that a white traveler into the interior carry a consular -passport countersigned by Chinese authorities, and also, for purposes -of identification, a supply of cards with the Chinese equivalent of -his name; so he set forth without either, and (as a matter of fixed -principle) without firearms. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII--THE WAYFARER - - -1 - -PASSENGER traffic on the Hansi Line ended at this time at a village -called Shau T'ing, in the heart of the red mountains. Brachey spent the -night in a native caravansary, his folding cot set up on the earthen -floor. The room was dirty, dilapidated, alive with insects and thick -with ancient odors. A charcoal fire in the crumbling brick _kang_ gave -forth fumes of gas that suggested the possibility of asphyxiation before -morning. Brachey sent his guide, a fifty-year-old Tientsin Chinese -of corpulent figure, known, for convenience, as “John,” for water and -extinguished the fire. The upper half of the inner wall was a wooden -lattice covered with paper; and by breaking all the paper squares within -his reach, Brachey contrived to secure a circulation of air. Next he -sent John for a piece of new yellow matting, and by spreading this under -the cot created a mild sensation of cleanliness, which, though it belied -the facts, made the situation a thought more bearable. For Brachey, -though a veteran traveler, was an extremely fastidious man. He bore dirt -and squalor, had borne them at intervals for years, without ever losing -his squeamish discomfort at the mere thought of them. But the stern -will that was during these, years the man's outstanding trait, and his -intense absorption in his work, had kept him driving ahead through all -petty difficulties. The only outward sign of the strain it put him to -was an increased irritability. - -He traveled from Shau T'ing to Ping Yang, the next day in an unroofed -freight ear without a seat, crowded in with thirty-odd Chinese and their -luggage. During the entire day he spoke hardly a word. His two servants -guarded him from contact with the other natives; but he ignored even -his own men. At a way station, where the engine waited half an hour for -water and coal, a lonely division engineer from Lombardy called out a -greeting in bad French. Brachey coldly snubbed the man. - -He planned to pick up either a riding animal or a mule litter at Ping -Yang. As it turned out, the best John could secure was a freight cart; -springless, of course. T'ainan was less than a hundred miles away, yet -he was doomed to three days of travel in a creaking, hard-riding cart -through the sunken roads, where dust as fine as flour sifts through the -clothing and rubs into the pores of the skin, and to two more nights at -native inns--with little hope of better accommodation at T'ainan. - -By this time Brachey was in a state of nerves that alarmed even himself. -Neither will nor imagination was proving equal to this new sort of -strain. The confusion of motives that had driven him out here provided -no sound justification for the journey. When he tried to think work now, -he found himself thinking Betty. And misgivings were creeping into his -mind. It amounted to demoralization. - -He walked out after the solitary dinner of soup and curried chicken and -English strawberry jam. The little village was settling into evening -calm. Men and boys, old women and very little girls, sat in the shop -fronts--here merely rickety porticoes with open doorways giving on dingy -courtyards--or played about the street. Carpenters were still working on -the roof of the new railway station. Three young men, in an open field, -were playing decorously with a shuttlecock of snake's skin and duck -feathers, deftly kicking it from player to player. Farther along the -street a middle-aged man of great dignity, clad in a silken robe and -black skull-cap with the inevitable red knot, was flying a colored kite -... through all this, Jonathan Brachey, the expert observer, wandered -about unseeing. - -2 - -Farther up the hill, however, rounding a turn in the road, he stopped -short, suddenly alive to the vivid outer world. A newly built wall of -brick stood before him, enclosing an area of two acres or more, within -which appeared the upper stories of European houses, as well as the -familiar curving roofs of Chinese tile. And just outside the walls two -young men and two young women, in outing clothes, white folk all, were -playing tennis. To their courteous greeting he responded frigidly. - -Later a somewhat baffled young Australian led him to the office of M. -Pourmont and presented him. - -The distinguished French engineer, looking up from his desk, beheld a -tall man in homespun knickerbockers, a man with a strong if slightly -forbidding face. He fingered the card. - -“Ah, Monsieur Brashayee! Indeed, yes! It is ze _grand plaisir!_ But it -mus' not be true zat you go on all ze vay to T'ainan-fu.” - -“Yes,” Brachey replied with icy courtesy, “I am going to T'ainan.” - -“But ze time, he is not vat you call---ripe. One makes ze trouble. It -is only a month zat zay t'row ze _pierre_ at me, zay tear ze cart of me, -zay destroy ze ear of me! _Choses affreuses!_ I mus'not let you go!'' - -Brachey heard this without taking it in any degree to himself. He was -looking at the left ear of this stout, bearded Parisian, from which, -he observed, the lobe was gone.... Then, with a quickening pulse, he -thought of Betty out there in T'ainan, in real danger. - -“Come wiz me!” cried M. Pourmont. “I vill show you vat ve do--_nous -ici_.” And snatching up a bunch of keys he led Brachey out about the -compound. He opened one door upon what appeared to be a heap of old -clothes. - -“_Des sac â terres_,” he explained. - -Brachey picked one up. “Ah,” he remarked, coldly -interested--“sand-bags!” - -“Yes, it is zat. Sand-bag for ze vail. Ve have ze _femme Chinoise_--ze -Chinese vimmen--sew zem all every day. And you vill look...” He led the -way with this to a corner of the grounds where the firm loess had been -turned up with a pick. “It is so, Monsieur Brashayee, _partout_. All is -ready. In von night ve fill ze bag, ve are a fort, ve are ready.... See! -An' see!” - -He pointed out a low scaffolding built here and there along the compound -wall for possible use as a firing step. Just outside the wall crowding -native houses were being torn down. “I buy zem,” explained M. Pourmont -with a chuckle, “an' I clear avay. I make a _glacis, nest ce pas?_” On -several of the flat roofs of supply sheds along the wall were heaps of -the bags, ready filled, covered from outside eyes with old boards. In -one building, under lock and key, were two machine guns and box on box -of ammunition. Back in M. Pourmont's private study was a stand of modern -rifles. - -“You vill see by all zis vat is ze t'ought of myself,” concluded the -genial Frenchman. “Ze trouble he is real. It is not safe to-day in -Hansi. Ze Société of ze Great Eye--ze Lookair--he grow, he _fait -l'exercice_, he make ze t'reat. You vill not go to T'ainan, alone. It is -not right!” - -Brachey was growing impatient now. - -“Oh, yes,” he said, more shortly than he knew. “I will go on.” - -“You have ze arm--ze revolvair?” - -Brachey shook his head. - -“You vill, zen, allow me to give you zis.” - -But Brachey declined the weapon stiffly, said good night, and returned -to the inn below. - -The next morning a Chinese servant brought a note from M Pourmont. If he -would go--thus that gentleman--and if he would not so much as carry -arms for protection, at least he must be sure to get into touch with -M. Griggsby Duane at once on arriving at T'ianan. M. Doane was a man of -strength and address. He would be the only support that M. Brachey could -look for in that turbulent corner of the world. - -3 - -The lamp threw a flickering unearthly light, faintly yellow, on the -tattered wall-hangings that bore the Chinese characters signifying -happiness and hospitality and other genial virtues. The lamp was of -early Biblical pattern, nor unlike a gravy boat of iron, full of oil or -grease, in which the wick floated. It stood on the roughly-made table. - -The inn compound was still, save for the stirring and the steady -crunching of the horses and mules at their long manger across the -courtyard. - -Brachey, half undressed, sat on his cot, staring at the shadowy brick -wall. His face was haggard. There were hollows under the eyes. His hands -lay, listless, on his knees. The fire that had been for a fortnight -consuming him was now, for the moment, burnt out. - -But at least, he now felt, the particular storm was over. That there -might be recurrences, he recognized. That girl had found her way, -through all the crust, to his heart. The result had been nearly -unbearable while it lasted. It had upset his reason; made a fool of him. -Here he was--now--less than a day's journey from her. He couldn't go -back; the thought stirred savagely what he thought of as the shreds of -his self-respect. And yet to go on was, or seemed, unthinkable. The best -solution seemed to be merely to make use of T'ainan as a stopping place -for the night and pass on to some other inland city. But this thought -carried with it the unnerving fear that he would fail to pass on, that -he might even communicate with her. - -His life, apparently, was a lie. He had believed since his boyhood that -human companionship lay apart from the line of his development. Even -his one or two boy friends he had driven off. The fact embittered his -earlier life; but it was so. In each instance he had said harsh things -that the other could not or would not overlook. His marriage had -contributed further proof. Along with his pitilessly detached judgment -of the woman went the sharp consciousness that he, too, had failed -at it. He couldn't adapt his life to the lives of others. Since that -experience--these four years--by living alone, keeping away, keeping -clear out of his own land, even out of touch with the white race, and -making something of a success of it, he had not only proved himself -finally, he had even, in a measure, justified himself. Yet now, a chance -meeting with a nineteen-year-old girl had, at a breath, destroyed the -laborious structure of his life. It all came down to the fact that -emotion had at last caught him as surely as it had caught the millions -of other men--men he had despised. He couldn't live now without feeling -again that magic touch of warmth in his breast. He couldn't go on alone. - -He bowed his head over it. Round and round went his thoughts, cutting -deeper and deeper into the tempered metal of his mind. - -He said to her: “I am selfish.” - -He had supposed he was telling the simple truth. But clearly he wasn't. -At this moment, as at every moment since that last night on the boat -deck, he was as dependent on her as a helpless child. And now he wasn't -even selfish. These two days since the little talk with M. Pourmont he -had been stirred deeply by the thought that she was in danger. - -Over and over, with his almost repelling detachment of mind, he reviewed -the situation. She might not share his present emotion. Perhaps she had -recovered quickly from the romantic drift that had caught them on the -ship. She was a sensitive, expressive little thing; quite possibly the -new environment had caught her up and changed her, filled her life with -fresh interest or turned it in a new direction. With this thought was -interwoven the old bitter belief that no woman could love him. It must -have been that she was stirred merely by that romantic drift and had -endowed him, the available man, with the charms that dwelt only in her -own fancy. Young girls were impressionable; they did that. - -But suppose--it was excitingly implausible--she hadn't swung away from -him. What would her missionary folk say to him and his predicament? -Sooner or later he would be free; but would that clear him with these -dogmatic persons, with her father? Probably not. And if not, -wouldn't the fact thrust unhappiness upon her? You could trust these -professionally religious people, he believed, to make her as unhappy as -they could--nag at her. - -Suppose, finally, the unthinkable thing, that she--he could hardly -formulate even the thought; he couldn't have uttered it--loved him. What -did he know of her? Who was she? What did she know of adult life? What -were her little day-by-day tastes and impulses, such as make or break -any human companionship...? And who was he? What right had he to take on -his shoulders the responsibility for a human life... a delicately joyous -little life? For that was what it came down to. It came to him, now, -like a ray of blipdirig light, that he who quickens the soul of a girl -must carry the burden of that soul to his grave. At times during the -night he thought wistfully of his freedom, of his pleasant, selfish -solitude and the inexigent companionship of his work. - -His suit-case lay on the one chair. He drew it over; got out the huge, -linen-mounted map of the Chinese Empire that is published by the China -Inland Mission, and studied the roads about T'ainan. That from the -east--his present route--swung to the south on emerging from the hills, -and approached the city nearly from that direction. Here, instead of -turning up into the city, he could easily enough strike south on the -valley road, perhaps reaching an apparently sizable village called Hung -Chan by night. - -He decided to do that, and afterward to push southwest. It should be -possible to find a way out along the rivers tributary to the Yangtse, -reaching that mighty stream at either Ichang or Hankow. And he would -work diligently, budding up again the life that had been so quickly and -lightly overset. At least, for the time. He must try himself out This -riding his emotions wouldn't do. At some stage of the complicated -experience it was going to be necessary to stop and think. Of course, -if he should find after a reasonable time, say a few months, that the -emotion persisted, why then, with his personal freedom established, he -might write Betty, simply stating his case. - -And after all this, on the following afternoon, dusty, tired of body and -soul, Jonathan Brachey rode straight up to the East Gate of T'ainan-fu. - - - - -CHAPTER IX--KNOTTED LIVES - - -1 - -IF Brachey had approached that East Gate a year later he would have -rolled comfortably into the city in a rickshaw (which has followed the -white man into China) along a macadamized road bordered by curbing of -concrete from the new railway station. But in the spring of 1907 there -was no station, no pavement, not a rickshaw. The road was a deep-rutted -way, dusty in dry weather, muddy in wet, bordered by the crumbling shops -and dwellings found on the outskirts of every Chinese city. A high, -bumpy little bridge of stone spanned the moat. - -Over this bridge rode Brachey, in his humble cart, sitting fiat under a -span of tattered matting, surrounded and backed by his boxes and bales -of food and water and his personal baggage. John and the cook rode -behind on mules. The muleteers walked. - -Under the gate were lounging soldiers, coolies, beggars, and a -money-changer or two with their bags of silver lumps, their strings -of copper cash and their balanced scales. Two of the soldiers sprang -forward and stopped the cart. Despite their ragged uniforms (of a dingy -blue, of course, like all China, and capped with blue turbans) these -were tall, alert men. Brachey was rapidly coming to recognize the -Northern Chinese as a larger, browner, more vigorous type of being -than the soft little yellow men of the South with whom he had long been -familiar in the United States as well as in the East. A mure dangerous -man, really, this northerner. - -Brachey leaned back on his baggage and watched the little encounter -between his John and the two soldiers. Any such conversation in China -is likely to take up a good deal of time, with many gestures, much -vehemence of speech and an 'ncreasing volume of interference from the -inevitable curious crowd. The cook and the two muleteers joined the -argument, Brachey had learned before the first evening that this -interpreter of his had no English beyond the few pidgin phrases common -to all speech along the coast. And since leaving Shau T'ing it had -transpired that the man's Tientsin-Peking dialect sounded strange in the -ears of Hansi John was now in the position of an interpreter who could -make headway in neither of the languages in which he was supposed to -deal. Brachey didn't mind. It kept the man still. And he had learned -years earlier that the small affairs of routine traveling can be managed -with but few spoken words. But just now, idly watching the little scene, -he would have liked to know what it meant. - -Finally John came to the cart, followed by shouts from the soldiers and -the crowd. - -“Card wanchee,” he managed to say. - -“Card? No savvy,” said Brachey. - -“Card,” John nodded earnestly. - -Brachey produced his personal card, bearing his name in English and the -address of a New York club. - -John studied it anxiously, and then passed it to one of the soldiers. -That official fingered it; turned it over; discussed it with his fellow. -Another discussion followed. - -Brachey now lost interest. He filled and lighted his pipe; then drew -from a pocket a small leather-bound copy of _The Bible in Spain_, opened -at a bookmark, and began reading. - -There was a wanderer after his own heart--George Borrow! An eager -adventurer, at home in any city of any clime, at ease in any company, -a fellow with gipsies, bandits, Arabs, Jews of Gibraltar and Greeks of -Madrid, known from Mogadore to Moscow. Bor-row's missionary employment -puzzled him as a curious inconsistency; his skill at making much of -every human contact was, to the misanthropic Brachey, enviable; his -genius for solitude, his self-sufficiency in every state, whether -confined in prison at Madrid or traversing alone the dangerous -wilderness of Galicia, were to Brachey points of fine fellowship. This -man needed no wife, no friend. His enthusiasm for the new type of human -creature or the unfamiliar tongue never weakened. - -The cart jolted, creaking, forward, into the low tunnel that served as -a gateway through the massive wall. A soldier walked on either hand. Two -other soldiers walked in the rear. The crowd, increasing every moment, -trailed off behind. Small boys jeered, even threw bits of dirt and -stones, one of which struck a soldier and caused a brief diversion. - -They creaked on through the narrow, crowded streets of the city. A -murmur ran ahead from shop to shop and corner to corner. Porters, -swaying under bending bamboo, shuffled along at a surprising pace and -crowded past. Merchants stood in doorways and puffed at lung pipes with -tiny nickel bowls as the strange parade went by. - -Finally it stopped. Two great studded gates swung inward, and the cart -lurched into the courtyard of an inn. - -Brachey appropriated a room, sent John for hot water, and coolly shaved. -Then he stretched out on the folding cot above its square of matting, -refilled his pipe and resumed his Borrow. - -2 - -Within half an hour fresh soldiers appeared, armed with carbines and -revolvers, and settled themselves comfortably, two of them, by his door; -two others taking up a position at the compound gate. - -They brought a letter, in Chinese characters, on red paper in a buff and -red envelope, which Brachey examined with curiosity. - -“No savvy,” he said. - -But the faithful John, inarticulate from confusion and fright could not -translate. - -Between this hour in mid-afternoon and early evening, six of these -documents were passed in through Brachey's door. With the last one, John -appeared to see a little light. - -“Number one policeman wanchee know pidgin belong you,” he explained -laboriously. - -That would doubtless mean the police minister. So they wanted to -know his business! But as matters stood, with no other medium of -communication than John's patient but bewildered brain, explanation -would be difficult. Brachey reached for his book and read on. Something -would have to happen, of course. It really hardly mattered what. He even -felt a little relief. The authorities might settle his business for him. -Pack him off. It would be better. M. Pourmont's letter to Griggsby Doane -had burned in his pocket for two days. It had seemed to press him, like -the hand of fate, to Betty's very roof. Now, since he had become--the -simile rose--a passive shuttlecock, a counterplay of fate might prove a -way out of his dilemma. - -He had chicken fried in oil for his dinner. And John ransacked the boxes -for dainties; as if the occasion demanded indulgence. - -At eight John knocked with shaking hands at his door. It was dark in the -courtyard, and a soft April rain was falling. Two fresh soldiers stood -there, each with carbine on back and a lighted paper lantern in band. A -boy from the inn held two closed umbrellas of oiled paper. - -“Go now,” said John, out of a dry throat. - -“Go what side?” asked Brachey, surveying the little group. - -John could not answer. - -Brachey compressed his lips; stood there, knocking his pipe against the -door-post. Then, finally, he put on overcoat and rubber overshoes, took -one of the umbrellas, and set forth. - -3 - -They walked a long way through twisting, shadowy streets, first a -soldier with the boy from the inn, then Brachey under his umbrella, then -John under another, then the second soldier. Dim figures finished past -them. Once the quaint waihng of stringed instruments floated out over a -compound wall. They passed through a dark tunnel that must have been one -of the city gates; then on through other streets. - -They stopped at a gate house. A door opened, and yellow lamplight -fell warmly across the way. Brachey found himself stepping up into a -structure that was and yet was not Chinese. A smiling old gate-keeper -received him with striking courtesy, and, to his surprise, in English. - -“Will you come with me, sir?” - -John and the soldiers waited in the gate house. - -Brachey followed the old man across a paved court. His pulse quickened. -Where were they bringing him? - -Through a window he saw a white woman sitting at a desk, under an -American lamp. - -He mounted stone steps, left his coat and hat in a homelike front hall. -The servant led the way up a flight of carpeted stairs. - -On the top step, Brachey paused. At the end of the corridor, where a -chair or two, a table, bookcase, and lamp made a pleasant little lounge, -a young woman sat quietly reading. She looked up; sat very still, gazing -straight at him out of a white face. It was Betty. His heart seemed to -stop. - -Then a man stood before him. A little, dusty blond man. They were -clasping hands. He was ushered rather abruptly into a study. The door -closed. - -The little man said something twice. It proved to be, “I am Mr. -Boatwright,” and he was looking down at the much-thumbed card; Brachey's -own card. - -Brachey was fighting to gather his wits. Why hadn't he spoken to Betty, -or she to him? Would she wait there to see him? If not, how could he -reach her?... He must reach her, of course. He knew now that through all -his confusion of mind and spirit he had come straight to her. - -4 - -The little man was nervous, Brachey observed; even jumpy. He hurried -about, drawing down the window-shades. Then he sat at a desk and with -twitching fingers rolled a pencil about. He cleared his throat. - -“You've come in from the railroad?” he asked.... “Yes? Do you bring -news?” - -“No,” said Brachey coldly. - -“What gossip have your boys picked up along the road, may I ask?” - -Back and forth, back and forth, his fingers twitched the pencil. -Bradley's eyes narrowly followed the movement. After a little, he -replied: - -“I have no information from my boys.” - -“Seven years ago”--thus Mr. Boatwright, huskily, “they killed all but -a few of us. Now the trouble has started again--a similar trouble They -attacked our station up at So T'ung yesterday. Mr. Doane is on his way -there now. He left this noon. That is why they referred your case to -me. Oh. yes, I should have told you--the tao-tai, Chang Chili Ting, has -asked me to get from you an explanation of your appearance here without -a passport. But perhaps your card explains. You come simply as a -journalist?” - -Brachey bowed. - -“You have no connection w ith the Ho Shan Company?” - -“None” - -“Chang is taking up your case this evening with the provincial judge, -Pao Ting Chuan. Pao is to give you an audience to-morrow, I believe, -at noon. I will act as your interpreter.” Mr. Boatwright paused, and -sighed. “I am very busy.” - -“I regret this intrusion on your time,” said Brachey. It was impossible -for him to be more than barely courteous to such a man as this. - -“Oh, that's all right,” Boatwright replied vaguely. “The audience will -probably be at noon. Then you will come back here with me for tiffin.” - He sighed again; then went on. “They shot one of Pourmont's white men. -Through the lungs.... You must have seen Pourmont at Ping Yang, as you -came through.” - -“I called on him.” - -“Didn't he tell you?” - -“No. He advised against my coming on.” - -“Of course. It's really very difficult. He wants us all to get out, as -far as his compound. But, you see, our predicament is delicate. Already -they've attacked one of our outposts. But the trouble may not spread. We -can't draw in our people and leave at the first sign of difficulty. It -would be interpreted as weakness not only on our part but on the part -of all the white governments as well. Mr. Doane, I know”--he said this -rather regretfully--“would never consent to that.... Mr. Doane is a -strong man. We shall all breathe a little more easily when he is safely -back. If he should not get back--well, you will see that I must face -this situation---the decision would fall on me. That's why I asked you -for news. I have to consider the problem from every angle. We have other -stations about the province and we must plan to draw all our people in -before we can even consider a general retreat.” - -Brachey heard part of this. He wished the man would keep still: His -own racing thoughts were with that pale girl in the hall. Was she still -there? He must plan. He must be prepared with something to say, if they -should meet face to face. - -As it turned out, they met on the stairs. Betty was coming up. She -paused; looked up, then down. The color stole back into her face; -flooded it. She raised her hand, hesitatingly. - -[Illustration: 0179] - -Brachey heard and felt the surprise of Boatwright, behind him. The -little man said: - -“Oh!” - -Brachey felt the warm little hand in his. It should have been, easy to -explain their acquaintance; to speak of the ship, ask after the Hasmers. -In the event, however, it proved impossible, all he could say--he heard -the dry hard tones issuing from his own lips: - -“Oh, how do you do! How have you been?” - -Betty said, after too long a pause, glancing up momentarily at Mr. -Boatwright: - -“Mr. Brachey was on the steamer.” - -It was odd, that little situation. It might so easily have escaped being -a situation, had not their own turbulent hearts made it so. But now, of -course, neither could explain why they hadn't spoke before he went into -the study. And little, distrait Mr. Boatwright was wide-eyed. - -The situation passed from mildly bad to a little worse. Betty went on up -the stairs; and Brachey went down. - -The casual parting came upon Brachey like a tragedy. It was unthinkable. -Something personal he must say. On the morrow it might be worse, with a -whole household crowding about. It was a question if he could face her -at all, that way. He got to the bottom step; then, with an apparently -offhand, “I beg your pardon!” brushed past the now openly astonished -Boatwright and bolted back up the stairs. - -Betty moved a little way along the upper hall; hesitated; glanced back. - -He spoke, low, in her ear. “I must see you!” - -Her head inclined a little. - -“Once! I must see you once. I can't leave it this way. Then I will go. -To-morrow--at tiffin--if we can't talk together--you must give me some -word. A note, perhaps, telling me how I can see you alone. There is one -thing I must tell you.” - -“Please!” she murmured. There were tears in her eyes. They scalded his -own high-beating heart, those tears. - -“You will plan it? I am helpless. But I must see you--tell you!” - -He thought her head inclined again. - -“You will? You'll give me a note? Oh, promise!” - -“Yes,” she whispered; and slipped away into another room. - -So this is why he had to come to T'ainan-fu--to tell her the tremendous -news that he would one day be free! And she had promised to arrange a -meeting! - -Never in all his cold life had Jonathan Brachey experienced such a -thrill as followed that soft “Yes.” - -Not a word passed between him and Boatwright until they stood in the -gate house. Then, for an instant, their eyes met. He had to fight back -the burning triumph that was in his own. But the little man seemed glad -to look away; he was even evasive. - -“You'd better be around about half past eleven in the morning,” said -he. “We'll go to the yamen from here. We must have blue carts and the -extra servants. Good night.” And again he sighed. - -That was all. Boatwright let him go like that, back to the dirty, -dangerous native inn. - -He fell in behind the leading soldier, holding his umbrella high and -marching stiffly, like a conqueror, through the sucking mud. - - - - -CHAPTER X--GRANITE - - -1 - -BETTY did not get down for breakfast in the morning. And Mrs. Boatwright -sent nothing up. - -It was close upon noon when Betty, sketching portfolio under arm, came -slowly down the stairs. Mrs. Boatwright, at her desk in the front room, -glanced up, called: - -“Oh, Betty--just a moment!” - -The girl stood in the doorway. She looked so slim and small and, even, -childlike, that the older woman, to whom responsibility for all things -and persons about her was a habit, knit her heavy brows slightly. What -on earth were you to do with the child? What had Griggsby Doane been -thinking of in bringing her out here? Anything, almost, would have been -better. And just now, of all times! - -“Would you mind coming in? There's a question or two I'd like to ask -you.” - -Betty paused by a rocking chair of black walnut that was upholstered in -crimson plush; fingered the crimson fringe. Mrs. Boatwright was marking -out a geometrical pattern on the back of an envelope; frowning down at -it. The silence grew heavy. - -Finally Mrs. Boatwright, never light of hand, rame out with: - -“This Mr. Brachey--who is he?” - -Betty's fringed lids moved swiftly up; dropped again. “He--he's a -writer, a journalist.” - -“You knew him on the ship?” - -“Yes.” - -“You knew him pretty well?” - -“I--saw something of him.” - -“Do you know why he came out here?” - -Betty was silent. - -“Do you know?” - -“I should think you would ask him.” - -Mrs. Boatwright considered this. The girl was selfconscious, a little. -And quietly--very quietly--hostile. Or perhaps merely on the defensive. - -“Then you do know?” - -“No,” replied Betty, with that same very quiet gravity, “I can't say -that I do. He is studying China, of course. He came from America to do -that, I understand.” - -“Did you know he was coming out here?” - -Betty slowly shook her head. - -“Have you been corresponding with him?” - -Another silence. Then this from Betty, without heat: - -“I don't understand why you are asking these questions.” - -“Are you unwilling to answer them?” - -“Such personal questions as that last one--yes.” - -“Why?” - -“You have no right to ask it.” - -“Oh!” Mrs. Boatwright considered. “Hmm!” She controlled her temper and -framed her next remark with care. This slip of a girl was unexpectedly -in fiber like Griggsby Doane. There was no weakness in her quiet -resistance, no yielding. Perhaps she was strong, after all. Though she -looked soft enough; gentle like her mother. Perhaps, even, she was -a person, of herself. This was a new thought. Mrs. Boatwright drew a -parallelogram, then painstakingly shaded the lines. - -“We mustn't misunderstand each other, Betty,” she said. “In your -father's absence, I am responsible for you. This man has appeared -rather mysteriously. His business is not clear. The tao-tai asked Mr. -Boatwright to look him up, for it seems he hasn't even an interpreter. -He has just been here. They've gone for an audience with the provincial -judge. Mr. Boatwright has asked him to come back here for tiffin. Which -was rather impulsive, I'm afraid....” She paused; started outlining -an octagon. “I may as well come out with it. Mr. Boatwright told me a -little of what happened last evening--” - -“Of what happened But nothing--” - -“If you please! Mr. Boatwright is not a particularly observant man -in these matters, but he couldn't help seeing that there is something -between you and this Mr. Brachey.... Now, since you see what is in my -mind, will you tell me why he is here?” - -During this speech Betty stopped fingering the crimson fringe. She stood -motionless, holding the portfolio still against her side. A slow color -crept into her cheeks. She wouldn't, or couldn't, speak. - -“Very well, if you won't answer that question, will you at least tell me -something of what you do know about him?” - -“I know very little about him,” said Betty now, in a low but clear -voice, without emphasis. - -“I must try to make you understand this, my dear. Here the man is. -Within the hour we are to sit down at tiffin with him. It is growing -clearer every minute that Mr. Boatwright's suspicion was correct-- - -“You have no right to use that word!” - -“Well, then, his surmise, say. There _is_ something between you and this -man. Don't you think you'd better tell me what it is?” - -“There is nothing--nothing at all--that I need tell you.” - -“Is there nothing that you ought to tell your father?” - -“You can not speak for him.” - -“I stand in his place, while he's away It is a responsibility I must -accept. You say you know very little about the man?” - -Betty bowed. - -“You met him on the ship, by chance?” - -“Yes.” - -“Do you know any of his friends?” - -“No.” - -“Anything of his past?” - -Betty hesitated. Then, as the woman glanced keenly up, she replied: - -“Only what he has told me.” - -“Do you know, even, whether he is a married man?” - -Another long silence fell. Betty stood as quietly as before, looking out -of frank brown eyes at the sunlit courtyard and the gate house beyond -where old Sun Shao-i, seated on a stool, was having the inside of his -eyelids scraped by an itinerant barber. - -“Yes,” Betty replied. - -“You mean--?” - -“I know that he _is_ married.” - -2 - -Betty, as she threw out this bit of uncompromising truth, was stirred -with a thrill of wilder adventure than had hitherto entered her somewhat -untrammeled young life. The situation had outrun her experience; she was -acting on instinct. There was a sense of shock, too; and of hurt--hurt -that Mrs. Boatwright could look, feel, so forbidding. Her firm face, -now pressed together from chin to forehead, wrinkled across, squinting -unutterable suspicions, stirred a resistance in Betty's breast that for -a little time flared into anger. - -There was no telling what Mrs. Boatwright felt. Her frown even relaxed, -after a moment. The outbreak of moral superiority that Betty looked for -didn't come. Instead she said: - -“How did you learn this?” - -“He told me.” - -“Oh, he told you?” - -“Well, he wrote a letter before he--went away.” - -“Oh. he went away!” - -“Yes. He went. Without a word. I didn't know where he was.” - -“When was that?” - -“When we landed at Shanghai.” - -“Hardly three weeks ago. He's here now. Tell me--he wouldn't have gone -off like that, of course, leaving such an intimate letter, unless a -pretty definite situation had arisen.” - -Betty was silent. - -“Will you tell me what it was?” - -“No.” - -“Then--I really have a right to ask this of you--will you give me your -word not to see him until your father returns, and then not until you -have laid it before him?” - -Silence again. The fringed lids fluttered. A small hand reached for the -crimson fringe, slim fingers clung there. - -Betty's thoughts were running away. She felt the situation now as a form -of torture. That grim experienced woman must be partly right, of course; -Betty was still so young as to defer mechanically to her elders, and -she had no great opinion of herself, of her strength of character or her -judgment. She thought of the boys at home, who had been fond of her. -... She thought of Harold Apgar, over there in Korea. He was clean, -likable, prosperous; and he wanted to marry her. It really would -solve her problems, could she only feel toward him so much as a faint -reflection of the glow that Jonathan Brachey had aroused in her. But -nothing in her nature answered Harold Apgar. For that matter--and this -was the deeply confusing thing--she could not formulate her feeling for -Brachey. She couldn't admit that she loved him. The thought of giving -her life into his keeping--one day, should he come to her with clean -hands; should he ask--was not to be entertained at all. But she couldn't -think of him without excitement; and that excitement, last night and -to-day, was the dominant fact in her life. She had no plans in which he -figured. She was vaguely bent on forgetting him. During the night she -had regretted her promise to meet him once more alone. Yet she had given -that promise. Given the same situation she would--she knew with a touch -of bewilderment that this was so--promise again. - -Betty looked appealingly at Mr. Boatwright. Then, meeting with no -sympathy, she drew up her little figure. - -“You said he was coming here for tiffin, Mrs. Boatwright?” - -“Yes.” The woman glanced out at the courtyard. “Any moment.” - -“Then I shan't come into the dining-room.” And Betty turned to leave the -room. - -“Just a moment! Am I to take that as an answer? Are you promising?” - -Hetty turned; hesitated; then, suddenly, impulsively, came across the -room. - -“Mrs. Boatwright,” she said unsteadily--her eyes were filling--“would -it do any good for me to talk right out with you? Probably I do need -advice.” She faltered momentarily, shocked by the expression on that -nearly square face. “Oh, it isn't a terribly serious situation. It -really isn't. But that man is honest. He has led an unhappy, solitary -life...” - -Her voice died out. - -“But you said he was _married!_” cried Mrs. Boatwright explosively. - -“Yes, but--” - -“'But! But!' Child, what are you talking about?” - -There was nothing in Betty's experience of life that could interpret to -her mind such a point of view as that really held by the woman before -her. She had no means of knowing that they were speaking across a -gulf wider and deeper perhaps than has ever before existed between two -generations; and that each of them, quite unconsciously, was an extreme -example of her type. She turned again. - -It was a commotion out at the gate house that arrested her this time. -She felt that curious excitement rising up in her heart and brain. Old -Sun was springing up from the barber's stool, with his always great -dignity brushing that public servitor aside. Then Brachey appeared, -followed by Mr. Boatwright. - -The wife of that little man now caught the look on Betty's face, the -sudden light in her eyes, and rose, alarmed, to her feet. Taking in the -situation, she said: - -“I shall send something up to your room.” - -Betty moved her head wanly in the negative. It was no use explaining to -this woman that she couldn't think of food. She moved slowly toward the -door. She was unexpectedly tired. - -“Where are you going?” asked the older woman shortly. - -“I've got to be by myself,” said Betty, apparently less resentful now. -It was more a rather faint statement of fact. And she went on out, not -so much as answering Mrs. Boatwright's final “But you will not promise?” - It wasn't even certain that she heard. - -3 - -Mrs. Boatwright stood thinking. Betty had run up the stairs. The two -men were coming slowly across the courtyard, talking. Or her husband -was talking; she could hear his light voice. The other man was silent; -a gloomy figure in knickerbockers. She studied him. Already he was -catalogued in her mind, and permanently. For nothing that might happen -to present Brachey in another light could ever, now, shake her judgment -of him. No new evidence of ability or integrity in the man or of genuine -misfortune in marriage, would influence her. No play of sympathy, no -tolerant reflectiveness, would for a moment occupy her mind. She was a -New Englander, with the old non-conformist British insistence on conduct -and duty bred in her bone. Her emotional nature was almost the granite -of her native lulls. And she was strong as that granite. She feared -nothing, shrank from nothing, that could be classified as duty. No -Latin flexibility ever softened her vigorous expression of independent -thought. Her duty, now, was clear. - -She went out into the hall and opened the door. - -The two men were just mounting the steps. - -“My dear,” began her husband, sensing her mood, glancing up -apprehensively, “this is Mr. Brachey. He-- - -“Yes,” said she, standing squarely in the doorway, “I understand. Mr. -Brachey, I can not receive you in this house. You, of course, know why. -I must ask you to go at once.” - -Then she simply waited; commandingly. From her eyes blazed honest, -invincible anger. - -Mr. Boatwright caught his breath; stood motionless, very white; finally -murmured: - -“But, my dear, I'm sure you...” - -His wife merely glanced at him. - -Brachey stood as she had caught him, on the steps, one foot above the -other. His face was expressionless. His eyes fastened on the woman a -gaze that might have meant no more than cold curiosity, growing slowly -into contempt. Then, after a moment, as quietly, he turned and descended -the steps. - -Boatwright caught his arm. - -“Really, Mr. Brachey--” - -“Elmer!” cried his wife shortly. “Let him go!” - -But Brachey had already shaken off the detaining hand. He marched -straight across the court, stepped into the gate house, and disappeared. - -Betty, all hurt confusion, had lingered in the second floor hall. At the -first sound of Mrs. Boatwright's firm voice, she stepped, her brain a -tangle of little indecisions, to the stair rail. - -She ran lightly to the front window and watched Jonathan Brachey as he -walked away. Then she shut herself in her own room, telling herself that -the time had come to think it all out. But she couldn't think. - -Against the granite in Mrs. Boatwright Betty, who understood herself not -at all, had to set a quick strong impulsiveness that was certain, given -a little time, to work out in positive act. Very little time indeed now -intervened between impulse and act. She scribbled a note, in pencil: - -“Dear Mr. Brachey--I am going out to sketch in the tennis court. You -can reach it by the little side street just beyond our gate house as you -come from the city. Please do come!--Betty D.” - -She went down the stairs again, portfolio under arm, and on to the gate -house. Sun, as she had thought, knew at which inn the white gentleman -was stopping, and at Miss Doane's request sent a boy with the chit. - - - - -CHAPTER XI--EMOTION - -BRACHEY came suddenly into view, around the corner of the wall from the -little side street. - -He was dressed almost stiffly--not in knickerbockers now, but in what -would be called at home a business suit, with stiff white collar and a -soft but correct hat; and he carried a stick--like an Englishman, Betty -thought, careful to the last of appearances. As if there were no -such thing as danger; only stability. She might have been back in the -comfortable New Jersey town and he a casual caller. And then, after -taking him in, in a quick conflict of moods that left her breathless, -she glanced hurriedly about. But only the blank compound wall met her -gaze, and tile roofs, with the chimneys of the higher mission house -peeping above foliage. The gate was but a narrow opening, near the -farther end of the tennis court. No one could see. For that matter, it -was to be doubted that any one in the compound knew she was here. And -beyond the little street stood another blank wall.... And he had come! - -She could not know that she seemed very composed as she laid her -portfolio on the camp stool and rose. Then her hand was in his. Her -voice said: - -“It was nice of you to come. But--” - -“When I asked for a meeting--for one meeting....” Her eyes were down; he -was set, as for a formal speech.... “It was, as you may imagine, because -a matter has arisen that seems to me of the greatest importance.” - -She wondered what made him talk like that. As if determined to appeal to -her mind. She couldn't listen; not with her mind; she was all feeling. -He was a stranger, this man. Yet she had thought tenderly of him. It was -difficult. - -“You didn't come alone?” she asked, unaware that her manner, too, was -formal. - -“Yes. Oh, yes! I know the way.” - -“But it isn't safe. When I wrote... I heard what Mrs. Boatwright said. I -was angry.” - -“She was very rude.” - -“It seemed as if I ought to get word to you--after that. I promised, of -course.” - -“But your note surprised me.” - -“You thought I wouldn't keep my promise?” - -“I wasn't sure that you could.” - -“If you hadn't heard from me, what would you have done?” - -“I should have left T'ainan this afternoon.” - -“But how could you? Where could you go?” - -“The provincial judge has assigned four soldiers to me. He was most -courteous. He wants me to publish articles in America and England -against the Ho Shan Company. He seems a very astute man. And he sent -runners to the inn just now with presents.” - -“Oh--what were they?” - -“Some old tins of sauerkraut. A German traveler must have left them -here.” - -Betty smiled. Then, sober again, said: - -“But you should have brought the soldiers with, you.” - -“Oh, no. I preferred being alone.” - -“But I don't think you understand. It isn't safe to go about alone now. -Not if you're a white man. I don't like to think that I've put you in -danger.” - -“You haven't. It doesn't matter. As I was about to tell you... you must -understand that I assume no interest on your part--I can't do that, -of course--but after what happened, that night on the ship...” He was -ha\ing difficulty with this set speech of his. Betty averted her face to -hide the warm color that came. Why on earth need he come out with it so -heavily! Whatever had happened had happened, that was all!... His voice -was going on. Something about a divorce. He was to be free shortly. He -said that. He sounded almost cold about it, deliberate. And he had -come clear out here to T'ainan just to say that. He _was_ assuming, of -course. To a painful degree. He seemed to feel that he owed it to her -to make some sort of payment... for kissing her... and the payment, -apparently, was to be himself. She was moved by a little wave of anger. -She managed to say: - -“We won't talk about that.” - -“I felt that I must tell you. I'll go now, of course.” - -“But...” - -“As soon as I am free I shall write you. I will ask you, then, to be my -wife.” - -He drew himself up, at this, stiffly. - -Betty's blush was a flush now. She gathered up her drawing tilings; -deliberately arranged the sheets of paper in the portfolio. - -“I shall say good-by... - -“Wait,” said Betty, rather shortly, not looking up “You mustn't go like -this.” - -There was a long silence. Then, abruptly, he broke out: - -“There is no way that I can stay. I would bring you only trouble. And it -will be easier for me to go. Of course, I should never have come. It -has been very upsetting, I haven't faced it honestly. I wanted to forget -you. I've been tortured. And then I learned that you were in danger. -I--can't talk about it!” And he clamped his lips shut. - -Betty opened her portfolio and slowly fingered the sheets of drawing -paper. Her eyes filled; she had to keep them down. - -“Where are you going?” Her voice was no more than a murmur. She said it -again, a little louder: “Where are you going?” - -“Back to the inn. And then, perhaps--” - -“You mustn't leave T'ainan.” - -“That is the difficulty. I couldn't save myself and leave you here.” - -“On your account, I mean. We're safe enough; I've heard them talking at -the house. Pao will protect us. And Chang, the tao-tai. But if you were -to go out alone--on the highway--” - -“Oh, that is nothing. I have soldiers.” - -“You said four soldiers. Father was attacked right here in the city, -with Chang and his body-guard defending him. They even tore Chang's -clothes.” - -“I don't care about myself,” said he. - -She glanced up at him. She knew he spoke the truth, however bitter his -spirit. He was talking on: “Don't misunderstand me....” - -“I don't.” - -“This journey has been a time of painful self-revelation. I used to -think myself strong. That was absurd, of course. I am very weak. In this -new trouble my will seems to have broken down. Yes, it has broken down; -I may as well admit it. I had no right to fall in love with you. Already -I have injured the life of one woman. Now, by merely coming out here -in this ill-considered way, I am injuring yours.... The worst of it is -these moments of terrible feeling. They make it impossible for me to -reason. At one time I can really believe that a fatal accident out -here--an accident to myself--would be the best thing that could happen -for everybody concerned: but then, in a moment, I become inflamed with -feeling, and desire, and a perfectly unreasonable hope.” - -“I wonder,” mused Betty, moved now by something near a thrill of -power--a disturbing sort of power--“if love is like that.” - -“I don't know. I don't even know if this is love Part of the time I -resent you.” - -“Oh!... Well--yes, I can understand that.” - -“Then you resent me?” - -“Sometimes.” - -“In my lucid moments I sec the thing clearly enough. It is simply an -impossible situation. And I have added the final touch by coming out -here.” He seated himself on a block of stone, and rested his chin -moodily on his two hands. “That is what disturbs me--it frightens me. I -have watched other men and women going through this queer confusion -we call falling in love. I've pitied them. They were weak, helpless, -surrendering the reasoning faculty to sheer emotion. Sometimes, I've -thought of them as creatures caught in a net.” - -“Oh!” Betty breathed softly, “I've never thought.. I wonder if it is -like that.” - -“It is with me. I see no happiness in it. I hope you will never have to -live through what I've lived through these past few weeks. And now I -sit here----weakly--knowing I ought to go at once and never disturb you -again. But the thought of going--of saying good-by--is terrible. It's -one more thing I seem unable to face.” - -Betty was struggling now against tumultuous thoughts. And without -overcoming them, without even making headway against them, she spoke: - -“I can't let you take all this on yourself. I must have--well made it -hard for you, there on the ship. I enjoyed being with you.” - -This was all she could say about that. - -There was a long, long silence. - -Suddenly, with an inarticulate exclamation, he sprang up. - -Startled, all impulses, she caught his hand. His fingers tightened about -hers. - -“What?” she asked, breathless. - -“I'll go.” - -“Not away from T'ainan?” - -“Yes. It's the only thing. After all, it doesn't matter much what -happens to any individual. We've got to take that chance. When my--when -I'm--free, if I'm alive, and you're alive. I'll write you. I won't -come--I'll write. Meanwhile, you can make up your mind. All I'll ask of -you then is a decision. I'll accept it.” - -Her fingers were twisting around his. She couldn't look up at him, nor -he down at her. - -“When shall you leave T'ainan?” - -“Now--this afternoon.” - -“No.” - -“But... don't you see?.. - -“I don't know what to say.” - -He knelt beside her. - -“You dear child!” he murmured unsteadily, “can't you see what a trouble -we're in? It's my fault--” - -“It's no more your fault than mine.” - -“Oh, but it is! I'm an experienced man. You're a girl. They're right in -blaming me.” - -“People can't help their feelings.” - -“God, if they could! Don't you see, child, that I can't stay near you? -I can't look at you--you're so little, so pretty, so charming! When -I'm with you, all this feeling, all the warm feminine quality, all the -beautiful magic that's been shut out of my life comes to me through -you. It drives me crazy.... Betty, God forgive me! I can't help it--this -once! It's good-by.” He took her lightly, reverently, in his arms, and -brushed his lips against her forehead. Then he arose. - -“Good-by, Betty!” - -“It's too late to start to-day. You can't travel Chinese roads at -night.” - -“I'll start early in the morning.” - -“I'll--if you--I'll come out here this evening. I think I can.” - -“Oh--Betty!...” - -“It may be a little late. Perhaps about half past eight. They'll all be -busy then.... Just for a little while.” - -He considered this. “It's wrong,” he said. “But what's the good of my -deciding not to come. Of course I will.” - -“You came clear to T'ainan.” - -“I know....” - -“And how about me!” she broke out. “I'm shut in a prison here. You're -the only friend that's come--the only person I can talk with. Father is -wonderful, but he's busy and worried, and I'm his daughter, and we can't -talk much. And you and I--if you're going in the morning--we can't leave -things--our very lives”--her voice wavered--“like this.” - -“I'll come,” he said. - -“And keep the soldiers with you.” - -“I'll come.” - -“I wonder if it is like a net,” said she. - - - - -CHAPTER XII--STORM CENTER - - -1 - -CHINA, in its vastness, its mystery, its permanence, its ceaseless ebb -and flow of myriad, uncounted life, suggests the ocean. The surface -is restless, ripped by universal family discord, whipped by gusts of -passion from tong or tribe, upheaved by political storms, but everywhere -in the unsounded depths lies the peace of submissiveness. Within its -boundaries breathes sufficient power to overwhelm the world, yet only -on the self-conscious surface is this power sensed and slightly used. -Chinese life, in city and village, as in the teeming countryside, moves -in disorganized poverty about its laborious daily tasks, little more -aware of the surface political currents than are Crustacea at the bottom -of the sea of ships passing overhead; while to these patient minds the -mighty adventure of the Western World is no more than a breath upon the -waters. - -This simile found a place among the darker thoughts of Griggsby Doane -as he tramped down into the fertile valley of the Han. Behind him lay -tragedy; yet on every hand the farmers were at work upon the narrow -holdings that terraced the red hills to their summits. At each -countryside well the half-naked coolies--two, three, or four of -them--were turning windlasses and emptying buckets of water into stone -troughs from which trickled little painstakingly measured streams to the -sunbaked furrow of this or that or another field. The trains of asses -anil camels wound ceaselessly up and down the road that led from the -northern hills to T'ainan. The roadside vendors and beggars chanted -their wares and their grievances. The villages, always indolent, lived -on exactly as always, stirred only by noisy bargains or other trivial -excitement. The naked children tumbled about. It w as hard to believe -that here could be--had so lately been--violence and cruelty. It was -simply one of the occasions, evidently, when no Lookers or hostile young -men happened to be about to shout their familiar taunts at the white -devil. Though the fighting of 1900, for that matter, had passed like a -wave, leaving hardly more trace. Still more, at dusk, the outskirts -of the great city stirred perplexing thoughts. The quiet of a Chinese -evening was settling on shops and homes. Children's voices carried -brightly over compound walls. Kites flew overhead. The music of stringed -instalments floated pleasantly, faintly, to the ear. - -And every quaint sight and sound was registered with a fresh vividness -on Doane's highly strung nerves. He was tired; might easily, too easily, -become irritable; a fact he sensed and struggled to guard against. Now, -of all occasions in his life, he must exercise self-control. Difficult -tasks lay directly ahead. One would be the talk with Pao Ting Chuan -about the So T'ung massacre. Pao was, in his Oriental way, friendly; but -his way was Oriental. It would be necessary to meet him at every evasive -turn; necessary to read behind every courteous speech of a cultivated -and charming gentleman the complex motivation of a mandarin skilled -in the intricate relationships of the Court of Peking. Helping avert -trouble was one matter; Pao could doubtless, or apparently, be counted -on to that extent; but assuming full responsibility for the taking of -white life and the destruction of white man's property, was a vastly -more complicated matter. No other sort of human creature is so skilful -at evading responsibility as the Chinaman; this, perhaps, because -responsibility, once accepted, is, under the Chinese tradition and -system, inescapable.... Another task, of course, would be the telling -Boatwright of his personal disaster. It still seemed better to do this -before the news could drift around in some vulgar, disruptive way from -Shanghai. He couldn't plan this talk, not yet; but a way would doubtless -present itself. He stood before his God, in his own strong heart, -convicted of sin. There had been moments, during the tramp southward, -when he found himself welcoming this nearly public self-arraignment with -a bitter eagerness. But at such moments pictures of Betty rose in his -mind, and of the gentle beautiful wife of his youth--wistful, delicately -traced pictures. - -His face would change then; the lines would deepen and a look of -torment, of wild hurt animal strength that was new, would appear in and -about his deep-shaded eyes. - -2 - -As he drew near the mission compound his stride shortened and slowed. -Once he stopped, and for a brief bme stood motionless, not heeding the -curious Chinese who passed (dim figures with soft-padded shoes), his -lips drawn tightly together over nervous mutterings that nearly, once -or twice, came out as sounds. He was not a man who talks out overwrought -feelings on the public way. The tendency alarmed him. - -He came deliberately into the gate house. Here, talking in some -excitement with old Sun, were four or five of the servants. - -He paused to ask what was the matter. To take hold again, to step so -quickly into his position as head of the compound, brought a sense of -relief. That would be habit functioning. A moment later, his confusion -was deeper than before; in one of those quick flashes that can -illuminate and occupy the inner mind while the outer is engaged with the -brisk affairs of life, he was wondering how soon these men would know -what he was, what pitiful sort he had overnight become; and what they -would think of him, they who now obeyed and loved him. - -'They told him the gossip of the streets. Those strange soldiers, -Lookers, from beyond the western mountains, had been coming of late to -the yamen of old Kang Hsu. Kang, so ran the local story, had reviewed -these troops within the twelve hours, witnessing their incantations, -giving them his approval. - -Doane said what little he could to quiet their fears; he even managed a -rather austere smile; then passed on into the courtyard. - -Dr. Cassin came slowly down the steps from the dispensary, her -keys jingling in her hand. She was a spare, competent woman, deeply -consecrated to her work, but not lacking in kindliness. - -“Oh, Mr. Doane!” she said. Then, “How did you find things at So T'ung?” - -He stood a moment, looking at her. - -“Very bad,” he said. - -“Not--well--” - -Doane inclined his head. “Yes, Jen is gone--and twelve to fifteen -others. Shot or burned. One helper escaped. I could get word of no -others. One of Monsieur Pourmont's engineers helped very bravely in the -defense, but was finally clubbed to death.” - -Dr. Cassin stood silent; then drew in her breath sharply. The keys -jingled. - -“Oh!” she murmured in a broken voice, “That _is_ bad!” - -“It couldn't be worse. How is it here?” - -“Well”--she pursed her lips--“I'm afraid we've all been getting a little -nervous. It's well you're back. We need you. The servants are -jumpy....” - -“I gathered that, in the gate house.” - -“I wonder... in the fighting at So T'ung there must have been a good -many wounded... - -“Among the attackers, yes; the Lookers themselves, and village rowdies.” - -“I was wondering... mightn't it be a good thing for me to go up there -and take charge?” - -“No.” - -“For the effect it might have on the people, I mean. Wouldn't it help -restore their confidence in us?” - -“No, Doctor. The people--except the young men--haven't changed. Trouble -will come wherever the Lookers go. No, your place is here.” - -Once in the mission residence, Doane hurried up the two flights of -stairs to his own rooms. He met no one; the door of Boatwright's study -was closed. - -So they needed him. The strain was shaking their monde a little. It was -really not surprising, after 1900. But if they needed him it was no time -to indulge his own emotions. He would have to take hold again, that was -all; perhaps keep hold, letting the news that was to be to him so evil -come up as it might. He sighed as he closed his door. Some sort of a -scene there must be; at least a talk with the Boatwrights about So T'ung -and about the local problem.... One thing he could do; remove his dusty -clothing, wash, put on fresh things. It would help a little, just -the physical refreshment. He went back to the door and locked it..... -Boatwright would be up, almost certainly. - -Very shortly came the familiar hesitant tapping. For years the little -man had made his presence known in that same faintly timid way. It was -irritating.... Doane called out that he would be down soon. - -“Oh... all right... thank you!” Thus Boatwright, outside the door. And -then he moved slowly, uncertainly, down the stairs. - -3 - -Boatwright was sitting idle at his desk, rolling a pencil about. It was -an old roll-top desk from Michigan via Shanghai. Doane closed the door, -quietly, and drew up a chair. - -“You'd better read this.” Boatwright spread a telegram on the desk. “I -haven't told the others. It came late this afternoon.” - -The message was from Mrs. Nacy, acting dean of the little college at -Hung Chan. - -“Several hundred Lookers”--it ran--“broke into compound this noon and -took all our food, slightly injuring cook and helper who resisted; they -order us to send all girl students home; remain at present carousing -near compound; very threatening; commander forbids any communication -with you as they seem to fear you and your influence at Judge's yamen, -though boasting that Treasurer now rules province and that Judge will be -fortunate to escape with his life; wish greatly you could be here.” - -Doane, sifting very quietly, shading his eyes with a powerful hand, read -the message twice; then asked, calmly: - -“Have you notified Pao?” - -“Not yet. Your message came several hours earlier. It seemed wise to -wait for yuu.” - -Doane considered the matter; then reached for red paper, ink pot and -brush, and wrote, in Chinese, the equivalent of the following note: - -“I beg to report that a band of Lookers at So T'ung, assisted by local -young men, killed Jen Ling Pu and about fourteen others, including white -engineer named Beggins from compound of Monsieur Pourmont at Ping Yang. -Considerable property destroyed. Several buildings burned to ground. -Further, to-day, comes a report of attack on the Mission College at -Hung Chan, with urgent appeal for help. I am going to Hung Chan at once, -to-night, and must beg of Your Excellency immediate support from local -officials and troops. I must further beg to advise Your Excellency that -I am reporting these unfortunate events to the American Minister at -Peking by telegraph to-night and to suggest that only the greatest -promptness and firmness on your part can now avert widespread trouble -which threatens to bow the head of China once more with shame in the -dust. - -“James Griggsby Doane.” - -He struck a bell then, and to the servant who entered gave instructions -regarding the etiquette to be observed in promptly delivering the note -at the yamen of the provincial judge. - -“I am worried, I'll admit, about Kang,” observed Boatwright, when the -servant had gone. He said this without looking up, rolling the pencil -back and forth, back and forth. His voice was light and husky. - -Deane, watching him, felt now that his own task was to forget self -utterly. It was beginning, even, to seem the pleasantly selfish -course. The trip down to Hung Chan he welcomed. He would drive himself -mercilessly; it would be an escaping from his thoughts. Moments had -come, during the walk from So T'ung, when for the first time in his life -he understood suicide. So many men fell back on it during the tragic -disillusionments of middle life. The trouble with suicide, of course, -this sort, was the element of cowardice. He wasn't beaten. Not yet. At -least, he had strength left, and physical courage. No, action was the -thing. It was the sort of contribution he was best fitted to give these -helpless, frightened people here. As to Betty, he would give to the -limits of his great strength. - -And so he answered Boatwright with a manner of calm confidence. - -“Kang is putting up a fight, of course, but Pao will prove too strong -for him. At least, there's no good in believing anything else, Elmer. -It's the position we've got to take. I'll get into my walking clothes -again.” - -“You're not going to Hung Chan alone, to-night?” - -“Yes. It's the quickest way.” - -“Don't you need sleep--a few hours, at least?” - -“No, I was too late at So T'ung.” - -“That was not your fault.” - -“No. Still... I'll go right along.” Doane got up. - -“If you could give me a few minutes more there's another matter. I'm -afraid you'll regard it as rather important. It's--difficult....” And -then, instead of continuing, he fell to rolling the pencil, and gazing -at it. His color rose a little. - -There was a light knock at the door. Neither man responded. After a -moment the door opened a little way, and Mrs. Boatwright looked in. - -“Oh!...” she exclaimed, then: “How do you do, Mr. Doane!... Elmer, have -you spoken of that matter?” - -“I was just beginning to, my dear.” - -Mrs. Boatwright, after a silence, came in and closed the door softly -behind her. - -“Mr. Doane hasn't much time.” Boatwright's voice was low, tremulous. -“Matters at So Thing are as bad as they could be. And he is going down -to Hung Chan now.” - -“To-night?” asked the wife, rather sharply. - -Doane inclined his head. - -“Then what are we to do?” - -“Mr Doane,” put in the husband, “has given instructions that we are to -stay here.” - -“Oh--instructions?” - -“Yes,” said Doane gravely. And he courteously explained: “The situation -is developing too rapidly for us to get all the others in to T'ainan. -And we can't desert them. Not yet. You will certainly be safer here than -you would be on the road. Hung Chan is only eighteen miles. I shall be -back within twenty-four hours, probably to-morrow evening. Then we will -hold a conference and decide finally on a course. We may be reduced -to demanding an escort to Ping Yang, telegraphing the others to save -themselves as best they can.” - -Mrs. Boatwright soberly considered the problem. - -“It looks like nineteen hundred all over again,” Boatwright muttered -huskily, without looking up. - -“No,” said Doane, “it won't be the same. The only thing we positively -know is that history never repeats itself. We'll take it as it comes.” - He didn't see Mrs. Boatwright's sharp eyes taking him in as he said -this. “I'll leave you now.” - -“Just this other matter,” said the wife, more briskly. “I won't keep -you long. But I don't feel free to handle the situation in my own way, -and--well, something must be done.” - -“You see,” said the husband, “there's a man here--a queer American--he -turned up--” - -“Elmer!” the wife interrupted, “if you will let me.... It is a man your -daughter met on the ship coming out, Mr. Doane. Evidently a case of -infatuation....” - -“He is a journalist--has written works on British administration in -India, I believe--” - -“Elmer! Please! The fact is, the man has deliberately followed Betty out -here. There is some understanding between them--something that should -be got at. The man is married. Betty admits that--she seems to be -intimately in his confidence. He came rushing out here without so much -as a passport. Elmer has had to give up a good deal of time to setting -him right at Pao's yamen. I very properly refused to accept him here -as a guest, whereupon Hetty got word to him secretly and they have been -meeting--” - -“Out in the tennis court!” - -“Last night I found them there myself. I sent him away, and brought -Betty in.” - -“Tell it all, dear!” - -“I will. Mr. Doane must know the facts. The man was kissing her. He -offered no apology. And Betty was defiant. She seemed then to fear the -man would not appear again, but in some way she found him this afternoon -out in the side street. They must have been there together for some -time, walking back and forth, talking earnestly. I had other things to -do, of course. I couldn't devote all my time to watching her. And it -would seem, if she had any normal sense of... I secured a promise then -from Betty that she would not meet him again until after your return. -The man, however, would promise nothing.” - -On few occasions in her intensely busy life had Mrs. Boatwright been so -voluble. But she was excited and perhaps a little prurient; for to such -severe self-discipline as hers there are opposite and sometimes equal -reactions. - -“Something must be done, and at once.” She appeared to be bringing her -speech to a conclusion. “The man impressed me as persistent and quite -shameless. He is unquestionably exerting a dangerous power over the -girl. Even in times like these, I am sure that you, as her father, will -feel that a strong effort must be made to save her. I needn't speak of -the whispers that are already loose about the compound.” - -Through all this, Doane, his face wholly expressionless except for a -stunned look about the eyes and perhaps a sad settling about the mouth, -looked quietly from wife to husband and back again. They seemed utter -strangers, these two. With disconcerting abruptness he discovered that -he disliked them both.... Another thought that came was of the scene -of desolation he had left at So T'ung. After that, what mattered, -what little human thing! Then it occurred to his dazed mind that this -wouldn't do. Suddenly he could see Betty--her charm and grace, her -bright pretty ways, with his inner eye; and again his spirit was tom and -tortured as all during the night, back there in the hills. If only he -could recall the prayers that used to rise so easily and earnestly from -his eager heart! - -“Where is she now?” he asked, outwardly so calm as to stir resentment in -the woman before him. She replied, acidly: - -“In her room. If she hasn't slipped out again.” - -“She promised, I believe you said.” - -This was uttered so quietly that a slow moment passed before it reached -home. Then Mrs. Boatwright replied, with less emphasis: - -“Yes. She promised.” - -“And where is the man?” - -“At an inn, somewhere inside the walls. Sun would know.” - -“What is his name?” - -Boatwright fumbled among the papers on his desk, and found a card which -he passed over. - -Doane looked thoughtfully at it, then slipped it into a pocket; said, -quiet, deathly sober, “You may look for me sometime to-morrow night. We -will make our final arrangements then. Meantime you had all better get -what rest you can.” Then he left the room. - -Husband and wife looked at each other. The man's lids drooped first. He -began rolling the pencil. Finally he said, listlessly: - -“Probably it would be wise to sort out these papers--get the letters -and reports straight. If we should go, there wouldn't be much time for -packing.” - -4 - -Doane went directly to Betty's door, and knocked. She came at once, in -her pretty kimono; peeped out at him; cried softly: - -“Oh, Dad! You're safe!” - -“Yes, dear. I have one more trip, a short one. It will be all I can do. -To-morrow night I'll be back for good. Take care of yourself, little -girl.” - -“Yes--oh, yes! But I shall worry about you.” - -“No. Never worry. I'll be back.” - -That seemed to be all he could say. She, too, was still. The silence -lengthened, grew into a conscious thing in his mind anti hers. Finally -he took a hesitating backward step. - -“I must be off, dear.” - -“Dad--wait!” She stood erect, her head drawn back, looking directly at -him out of curiously bright eyes. Her abundant hair flowed down about -her shoulders... But he thought of her eyes. They were frank, brave, and -very young and eager and bright. Somewhere within her slim little frame -she had a store of fine young courage; he knew it now, and felt a thrill -that was at once hope and pain. He had to fight back tears.... She was -going to tell him. Yes, she was plunging wonderfully into it: - -“There's one thing, Dad! I'm sorry--I oughtn't to make you think of -other things now. But if we could only have a little talk....” - -He managed to say: - -“Only a day more, dear.” - -“Yes. I suppose we should wait... though...” He stepped forward, -drew her to him, and in an uprush of exquisite tenderness kissed her -forehead; then, with an odd little sound that might almost have been a -sob, he rushed off, descended the stairs, and went out the front door. - -From the window she saw his dim figure crossing the court. At the gate -house he paused and called aloud. - -Two of the servants came; she could see their quaintly colored paper -lanterns bobbing about. One of them went into the gate house and came -out again. He was struggling with something. She strained her eyes -against the glass. Oh. yes--he was getting into his long coat; that was -all. Apparently he went out, this man, with her father.... The other -colored lantern bobbed back into the gate house, and the compound -settled again into calm. - -Doane, though he could not talk with his daughter, could talk -directly and bluntly to the man named Brachey, who had rushed out here -incontinent after her He knew this; was alive with a slow swelling anger -that came to him as a perverse sort of blessing after the cumulative -emotional torment of the past three days. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII--THE PLEDGE - - -1 - -ON the morning of that same day--while Griggsby Doane was striding down -the mountain road from So T'ung to T'ainan-fu--Jonathan Brachey sat -in his room at the inn trying to read, trying to write, counting the -minutes until two o'clock at which hour Betty would be waiting in the -tennis court, when John slipped in with a small white card bearing the -printed legend, in English: - -_MR. PO_ - -_Interpreter and Secretary_ - -_Yamen of His Excellency the Provincial Judge T'ainan-fu_ - -Mr. Po proved to be a tall, slim, rather elegant young man in -conventional plain robe, black skull-cap and large spectacles, who met -Brachey's stiff greeting with a broad smile and a wholly Western grip of -the hand. - -“How d' do!” he said eagerly: “How d' do!” Then he glanced about at the -two worn old chairs, the crumbling walls of the sun-dried brick with -their soiled, ragged motto scrolls, the dirty matting on the _kang_, and -slowly shook his head. “You're not comfortable as all get-out.” - -If there was in Mr. Po's speech a softness of intonation and a faint -difficulty with the _r's_ and _l's_, the faults were not so marked as to -demand changes of spelling in setting it down. He accepted a cigarette. -Brachey lighted his pipe. - -“You are quite at home in English,” remarked Brachey. - -“Oh, yes! English is my professional matter in hand.” - -“You have lived abroad?” - -“Oh, no! But at Tientsin Anglo-Chinese College, I made consumption -largely of midnight oil. And among English people society I have broken -the ice.” - -Brachey settled back in the angular chair; pulled at his pipe; thought. -The man was here for a purpose, of course. But from that slightly eager -manner, it seemed reasonable to infer that among his motives was a -desire to practise and exhibit his English, a curious mixture of -book phrases and coast slang, with here and there the Chinese -sentence-structure showing through. And he offered an opportunity to -study the local problem that Brachey mentally leaped at. - -So these two fell into chat, the smiling young Chinese gentleman and the -austere Westerner. Mr. Po, speaking easily, without emphasis, his casual -manner suggesting that nothing mattered much--not old or new, life -or death--revealed, through the words he so lightly used, stirring -enthusiasms. And Brachey observed him through narrowed eyes. - -Here, thought the journalist, before him, smoking a cigarette, sat -modern China; in robe and queue, speaking of the future but ridden by -the past; using strong words but with no fire, no urge or glow in the -voice; as if eager to hope without the substance of hope; at once age -and youth, smiling down the weary centuries at himself. - -“It has been expressed to me that you are literature man.” Thus Mr. Po. - -Brachey's head moved downward. - -“That is quite wonderful. If you will tell me the names of certain of -your books I will give myself great delight in reading them. I read -English like the devil--all the time. I'm crazy about Emerson.” - -Brachey led him on. They talked of Russia and England, of the new -railways in China, of truculent Japan, of Edison, much of Roosevelt. Mr. -Po suggested a walk; and they mounted the city wall, sat on the parapet -and talked on; the Chinaman always smiling, nerveless, his calm, easily -flowing voice without body or emphasis. Brachey finally succeeded in -guiding the man to his own topic, China. - -“It puzzles and bewilders,” said Mr. Po. “China must leap like -grasshopper over the many centuries. To railways one may turn for -beneficent assistance. And also to missionaries.” - -“I'm surprised to hear you say that. I supposed all China was opposed to -the missionaries.” - -“I do not dwell at present time upon their religion practises. That may -be all to the good--I can not say. But the domicle of each and every -missionary may be termed civilization propaganda center. Here are found -books, medicines, lamps. Your eyes have discerned enveloping gloom of -Chinese cities by night. Think, I beg of you, what difference it will be -when illumination brightens all. Our people do not like these things, it -is true. They descend avidly into superstitions. They make a hell of a -fuss. But that fuss is growing pain. China must grow, though suffering -accumulate and dismay.” - -“Come to think of it,” mused Brachey aloud, “superstition isn't stopping -the railroads.” - -Mr. Po snapped his fingers, smilingly. “A fig and thistle for -superstition!” he remarked. “Take good look at the railways! What -happened? In every field of China, as you know, stand grave mounds -of honorable ancestral worshiping. It will break heart of China to -desecrate those grave mounds. It will bring down untold misery upon -ancestors. But when they build Hankow-Peking Rahway, very slick -speculator employed observation upon surveyors and purchased up claims -against railway for bringing misery upon ancestors and sold them to -railway company at handsome profit to himself. And, sir, do you know -what it set back company to desecrate ancestors of China? It set back -twelve dollars per ancestor. And that slick speculator he is now -millionaire. He erects imposing house at Shanghai and elaborates dinners -to white merchants. It is said that he will soon be compradore and -partner in most pretentious English Hong.... No, the superstition will -have to go. It will go like the chaff.” - -“But this big change will take a little time.” - -“Time? Oh, yes, of course! But what is time to China! A few centuries! -They are nothing!” - -“A few centuries are something to me,” observed Brachey dryly. - -“Oh, yes! And to me. That is different. There are times to come of -running to and fro and hubbub. It is not easy to adjust.” - -“It is not,” said Brachey. - -“For myself, I would like to get away. I have observed with too great -width customs of white peoples, I have perused with too diligent -attention many English books as well as those of French and German -authorship, to find contentment in Chinese habit ways. I would -appreciate to voyage freely to America. If I might ask, is not there -an exception made under so-called Chinese Exclusion Act in instance of -attentive student and gentleman who finds himself by no means dependent -upon finance arrangements of certain others?” - -“I really don't know,” said Brachey. “You'd have to talk with somebody -up at the legation about that.” - -“But up at legation somebodies make always assumption never to know a -darn thing about anything.” Mr Po laughed easily. - -“I have employed great thought concerning this topic,” he went on, -with mounting assurance. “It is here and now time of beginning upset in -Hansi, as perhaps as well in all China. At topmost pinnacle of Old Order -here stands Kang, the treasurer. It can not, indeed, be said that -for ennobling ideas of New Order he cares much of a damn. And he is -miserably jealous of His Excellency, Pao Ting Chuan. But Pao is very -strong. Sooner or later he will pin upon Kang defeat humiliation.” - -“You feel sure Pao will be able to do that?” - -“Oh, yes! Pao is cat, Kang is mouse.” - -“Hmm!” - -“Yes indeed! But it is nothing to me. Nothing in world! I have laid -before His Excellency desires of my heart. He expresses willing -courtesy. If I may make voyage freely he will make best of it. And not -unlike myself he has perceived half-notion that if I turn to you for -wisdom advice you will not turn cold shoulder and throw me down.” - Catching the opposition behind Brachey's slightly knit brows, he added -hastily, “I have no need. That is to say, I'm not broke. And--with this -thought plan I have made transferrence of certain monies to Hongkong -Bank at Shanghai where no revolution or hell of a row can snatch it from -my outstretched hands. With but a nod from your head, sir, and also with -permission of His Excellency, I could make sneak out of province as your -servant.” - -Brachey, after some thought, said he would take the proposal under -consideration. - -During the walk back to the inn he contrived to hold the interpreter's -chatter closely to the ferment in the province. - -Kang, it appeared, was openly backing the Lookers now. His yamen -enclosure swarmed with ragged soldiers from the West who foraged among -the shops for food and trinkets, and beat or shot the inoffensive -Chinese merchants by way of emphasizing rather casually their privileged -status in the capital city. Down the river, near Hung Chan, a more -considerable concentration of the strange troops was taking place. -Hung Chan was also the rendezvous for the local young men who had -been initiated into the Looker bands. Rumors were flying of a general -massacre to come of the white and secondary (or native) Christians. -There was even talk of a political alliance with the organizers of -rebellion in the South against the Imperial Manchu Government and of -a triumphant march to the coast. A phrase that might be translated as -“China for the Chinese” had come into circulation. - -Brachey grew more and more thoughtful as he listened. - -“If Pao is so strong, why does he permit matters to go so far?” he -asked. - -Mr. Po laughed. “His Excellency will in his own good time get move on -himself.” - -“Hmm!” - -“Only yesterday I myself was pinched on street by Western soldiers.” - -“Pinched?” - -“Seized and arrested. Taken up.” - -Brachey raised his eyebrows; but Mr Po smiled easily on. - -“Oh, yes! They called me secondary Christian. They ran me in before -low woman, a courtesan. They have told Kang that this courtesan is -second-sighted.” - -“Clairvoyant?” - -“Yes, that is now firm belief of Kang on mere say-so of cheap skates. -This courtesan has been conveyed to treasurer's yamen where with eunuchs -and concubines to attend and soldiers to stand sentry-go she now holds -forth to beat the Dutch. All perfectly absurd!” - -“And this creature sat in judgment over you?” - -“Oh, yes! Not a day since.” - -“What was her decision?” - -Again that easy laugh. “Oh, she decree that I am to kick bucket.” - -“Execute you, eh? You take it lightly.” - -“It is nothing. I will tell you. In companionship with me was my bosom -friend, Chili T'ang, who is third son of well-known censor of -Peking, Chili Chang Pu. It was Chih who got hustle on to yamen of His -Excellency--” - -“By His Excellency you mean Pao?” - -“In every instance, if you please! Well, like a shot His Excellency -acted in my behalf. In person and with full retinue grandeur panoply he -set forth to pay visit to old rascal Kang, carrying as gift of utmost -personal esteem ancient ring for thumb of jade that Kang had long made -goo-goo eyes at. And he asked of Kang as favor mark to himself that he -be let known instanter, right away, if any of soldiers from his yamen -should behave with unpleasantness toward new soldiers of Kang, for -new soldiers of Kang had come to T'ainan-fu out of far country and not -unnaturally felt homesick and were not in each instance in step with -customs of our city. And he made explanation as well that he would -instruct his secretary, Po Sui-an, to bring news quicker than Johnny get -your gun if his own soldiers should act up freshly or become stench in -the nostrils.... Well, you see, sir?” - -“Not quite.” - -“But I am Po Sui-an! It was rebuke like ton of brick, falling on all -but face of old Kang. It has been insisted to me that Kang trembled like -swaying aspen reed as he made high sign to attendant mandarins. And then -His Excellency set forth that I had just stepped out on brief journey -but would shortly be back and that he would then instruct me with -determined vigor.... Such is His Excellency, a statesman of stiff upper -lip. A most wise guy! Thus he served notice on that old reprobate that -he will strike when iron is hot.” - -“They released you?” - -“At once. On return of His Excellency, to his yamen. There was I, slick -as whistle!”, - -“Very interesting. But if Kang continues to bring in soldiers from the -West, how is Pao going to strike with any hope of success? Is he, too, -marshaling an army?” - -“Oh, no! But you see, I come to call upon you, with you I walk freely -about streets. At Kang I thumb my nose and tell him go chase himself. -Pao will protect myself and you.” - -“But as I understand it, Kang officially ranks Pao.” - -“Oh, yes! But that is nothing.” - -“It looks like a little something to me.” - -“Oh, no! I will ask you for brief moment to glance sidelong at Forbidden -City of Peking. There during long devil of a while Eastern Empress -officially ranked Western Empress, but I would call your attention to -insignificant matter that it was not Western Empress--she whom you dub -Empress Dowager--that turned up her toes most opportunely to daisies.” - -“Oh, I see! Then it is believed that the Empress Dowager had the Eastern -Empress killed?” - -“You could not ask that she neglect wholly her fences.”. - -“No.... no, I suppose you couldn't ask that.” - -“She is great woman. She will not permit that another person put her -on the blink. It is so with His Excellency. A dam' big man! We shall -see!”... He hesitated, smiling a thought more eagerly than before. -They had reached the gate of the inn compound. His quick eye had caught -increasing signs of preoccupation in Brachey's manner. Finally, laughing -again, he said: - -“'There is one other little bagatelle. An utter absurdity! I have made -preparation for lecture in English about China. Name of it is 'Pigtail -and Chop-stick.' When I read it at college I must say they held sides -and shook like jelly bowl. On that occasion it was made plain to me by -men of thought that it is peach of a lecture. It's a scream.” His laugh -indicated now an apologetic self-consciousness. “It was said that in -America my lecture would be knockout, that Chinaman treading with -humor the lyceum would make novelty excitement. Indeed, by gentleman -of Customs Administration this was handed me....” He fumbled inside his -gown, finally producing a frayed bit of ruled paper, evidently torn from -a pocket note-book, on which was written in pencil: “Try the J. B. Pond -Lyceum Bureau, New York City.” - -“Since it was expressed to me,” he hurried to add, “that American -journalist notability was in our midst, I have amused myself with fool -thought that you would run eyes over it and let me have worst of it.” - -“It would be a pleasure,” said Brachey, civilly enough but with -considerable dismissive force, extending his hand. - -So, Mr. Po, smiling but something crestfallen, sauntered away. - -2 - -At ten o'clock that night Brachey sat in the angular chair, his _Bible -in Spain_ lying open on his knees, his weary face deeply shadowed and -yellow-gray in the flickering light of the native lamp on the table -beside him. - -John tapped at the door; came softly in; stood, holding the door to -behind him. - -“Well?” cried Brachey irritably. “Well?” - -“Man wanchee see you. Can do?” - -“Man?... What man?” - -“No savvy.” - -“China man?” - -“No China man. White man. Too big.” - -Brachey sprang up; dropped his book on the table with a bang; brushed -John aside and opened the door. The only light out there came slanting -down from a brilliant moon. Dimly outlined as shadowy masses were the -now familiar objects of the inn courtyard--the row of pack-saddles over -by the stable, the darkly moving heads of the horses ami mules behind -the long manger, the two millstones on their rough standard; above these -the roofs of curving tile and a glimpse of young foliage. Then, after a -moment, he sensed movement and peered across, beyond the stable, toward -the street gates. A man was approaching; a huge figure of a man, six -feet five or six inches in height, broad of shoulder, firm of tread; -stood now before him. He carried something like a soldier's pack on his -back. - -“Why did you come here?” - -Brachey on the door-step found his eyes level with those of his caller. - -“Mr. Brachcy?” The voice had the ring of power in it. Brachey's nerves -tightened. - -“Yes.” - -“I am Mr. Doane.” - -“Will you please come in?” - -John slipped away. Doane entered; moved to the table; turned. Brachey -closed the door and faced him. - -“You will perhaps wish to take off your pack,” he said, with bare -civility. - -Doane disposed of this remark with a jerk of his head. “I have very -little time to waste on you,” he said bruskly. “What are you doing in -T'ainan? Why did you come here?” - -[Illustration: 0231] - -There was a long silence. - -“Very well, if you won't answer.”... Doane's voice rasped. - -Brachey raised his hand. “I was considering your question,” he broke in -coldly. “While it is not the whole truth, it will probably save time to -say that I came to see your daughter.” - -He would have liked to express in his voice some thing of the desperate -tenderness that he felt. The experiences of the preceding evening and -of the afternoon just past--the glimpses he had had into the heart of -a girl, his little storms of anger against Mrs. Boatwright and all her -kind, followed in each instance by other little storms of anger against -himself--had finally swept him from the last rational mooring place out -into the bottomless, boundless sea of emotion. He had found himself, -already to-night, a storm-tossed soul without compass or bearings or -rudder. He burned to see Betty again. It had taken all that was left -of his will to keep from charging out once more across the city, out -through the wall, to the mission compound. He was shaken, humbled, -frightened. To such a nature as Brachey's--stubbornly aloof from human -contacts, sensitively self-sufficient--this was really a terrible -experience. It was the worst storm of his life. He felt--had felt at -times during the evening, as he tried to brace himself for this scene -that he knew had to come within the twenty-four hours--something near -tenderness for the man who was Betty's father. There were even moments -when he looked forward to the meeting with the hope that through the -father's feelings he might be helped in finding his lost self. - -He had tried, sitting among the shadows, to build up a picture of the -man. Several of these he had constructed, to meet each of which he -felt he could hold himself in a mental attitude of frankness and even -sympathy. But each of these pictures was but an elaboration of -familiar missionary types. All were what he considered--or once had -considered--weak, or over-earnest to the borders of fanaticism, or -cautious little men, or narrow formalists... men like Boatwright -And without realizing, it, too, he had counted on either real or -counterfeited Christian forbearance. The only thing he had feared might -come up to disturb him was intolerance, like that of Boatwright's wife. - -With that, of course, you couldn't reason, couldn't talk at all.... What -he really wanted to do, burned to do, was to tell the exact truth. He -had passed the point where he could give Betty up; he would have to -fight for her now, whatever happened. His one great fear had been -that Betty's father would be incapable of entertaining the truth -dispassionately, fairly. - -But the actual Doane cleared his over-charged brain as a mountain storm -will clear murky air. Here was a giant of a man who meant business. Back -of that strong face, back of the deep voice, Brachey felt a pressure -of anger. It was not Christian forbearance; it was vigor and something -more; something that perhaps, probably, would come out before they were -through with each other. There was a restless power in the man, a -wild animal pacing there behind the slightly clouded eyes. Even in the -blinding fire of his own love for Betty he could look out momentarily -and see or feel that this giant was burning too. And what he saw or -felt, turned his heart to ice and his brain to tempered metal. Sympathy -would have reached Brachey this night; weakness, blundering, might have -reached him. But now, of all occasions, he would not be intimidated.. .. -He felt the change coming over him, dreaded it, even resisted it; but -was powerless to check it. The man proposed to beat him down. No one had -ever yet done that to Jonathan Brachey. And so, though he tried to speak -with simple frankness in saying, “I came to see your daughter,” the -words came out coldly, tinged with defiance, between set lips. - -It might easily mean a fight of some sort, Brachey reflected. This -mountain of a man could crush him, of course. Primitive emotion charged -the air as each deliberately stud'ed the other.... It would hardly -matter if he should be crushed. There were no police in T'airan to -protect white men from each other. His wife would be relieved; a queer, -bitter sob rose part way in his throat at the thought. There was no one -else... save Betty. Betty would care! And this man was her father! It -was terrible.... He was struggling now to attain a humility his austere -life had never known; if only he could trample down his savage pride, -hear the man out, swallow every insult! But in this struggle, at first, -he failed. Like a soldier he faced the huge fighting man with a pack on -his back. - -“You knew my daughter on the steamer?” - -“Yes.” - -“Before that--in America?” - -“No.” - -“There is something between you?” - -“Yes.” - -“You are a married man?” - -“Yes.” - -Doane, his face working a very little, his arms stiff and straight at -his sides, came a step nearer. Brachey lifted his chin and stared up the -more directly at him. “You seem to have a little honesty, at least.” - -“I am honest.” - -“How far has this gone?” - -Brachey was silent. - -Doane took another step. - -“Why don't I kill you?” he breathed. - -It was then that Brachey first caught the full force of Doane's -emotional torment. To say that he did not flinch, inwardly, would be -untrue; but all that Doane saw was a slight hesitation before the cold -reply came: “I can not answer that question.” - -“You can answer the other. How far has this gone?” - -Brachey again clamped his lips shut. The situation, to him, had become -inexplicable. - -“Will you answer?” - -“No.” - -Doane's eyes blazed down wildly. And Doane's voice broke through the -restraint he had put upon it as he cried: - -“Have you harmed my little girl?” - -Brachey was still. - -“Answer me!” Doane's great hand came down on his shoulder. “Have you -harmed her?” - -Brachey's body trembled under that hand; he was fighting himself, -fighting the impulse to strike with his fists, to seize the lamp, a -chair, his walking stick; he held his breath; he could have tossed a -coin for his life; but then, wandering like a little lost breeze among -his bitter thoughts, came a beginning perception of the anguish in -this father's heart. It confused him, softened him. His own voice was -unsteady as he replied: “Not in the sense you mean.” - -“In what sense, then?” - -Brachey broke away. Doane moved heavily after him, but stopped short -when the slighter man dropped wearily into a chair. - -“I'm not going to attack you,” said Brachey, “but for God's sake sit -down!” - -“What did you mean by that?” - -“Simply this.” Brachey's head dropped on his hand; he stared at the -floor of rough tiles. “I love her. She knows it. She even seems to -return it. I have roused deep feelings in her. Perhaps in doing that I -have harmed her. I can't say.” - -“Is that all? You are telling me everything?” - -“Everything.” - -Doane walked across the room; came back; looked down at Brachey. - -“You know how such men as you are regarded, of course?” - -“No.... Oh, perhaps!” - -“You will leave T'ainan, of course.” - -“Well...” - -“There is no question about that. You will leave.” - -“There's one question--a man dislikes to leave the woman he loves in -actual danger.” - -An expression of bewilderment passed across Duane's face. - -“You admit that you are married?” - -“Oh, yes!” - -“Yet you speak as my daughter's lover. Does the fact of your marriage -mean nothing to you?” - -“Nothing whatever.” - -“Oh, you are planning to fall back on the divorce court, perhaps?” - -“Yes.” Brachey's head came up then. “Does love mean nothing to you?” he -cried. “In your narrow, hard missionary heart is there no sympathy for -the emotions that seize on a man and a woman and break their wills and -shake them into submission?” - -Looking up, he saw the color surge into Doane's face. Anger rose there -again. The man seemed desperate, bitter. There was no way, apparently, -to handle him; he was a new sort. - -Doane crossed the room again; came back to the middle. He seemed to be -biting his lip. - -“I'll have no more words from you,” he suddenly cried out. “You'll go in -the morning! I'll have to take your word that you won't communicate with -Betty.” - -“But, my God, I can't just save myself--” - -“It may not be so safe for you or any of us. Will you go?” - -“Oh... yes!” - -“You will not try to see Betty?” - -“Not to-morrow.” - -“Nor after.” - -Brachey sprang up; leaned against the table; pushed the lamp away. - -“How do I know what I shall do?” - -“I know.” - -“Oh, you do!” - -“Yes. You will do as I say. You are never to communicate with her -again.” - -Brachey thought. “I'll say this: I'll undertake not to. If I can't -endure it, I'll tell you first.” - -“You can endure it.” - -“But you don't understand! It's a terrible thing! Do you think I wanted -to come out here? I meant not to. But I couldn't stand it. I came. Is -it nothing that I told her of my marriage with the deliberate purpose of -frightening her away? But she is afraid of nothing.” - -“No--she is not afraid.” - -“I tell you, I've been torn all to pieces. Good God, if I hadn't been, -and if you weren't her father, do you think I'd have stood here to-night -and let you say these things to me! Oh, you would beat me; likely enough -you'd kill me; but that's nothing. That would be easy--except for Betty.” - -“I have no time for heroics,” said Doane. “Have I your promise that you -will leave in the morning, without a word to her?” - -“Yes.” - -“I am going to Hung Chan. There are more important issues now than your -life or mine. I shall be back to-morrow night and shall know then if you -have failed to keep your word.” - -“I shan't fail.” - -“Very well! A word more. You are not to stop at Ping Yang on your way -cut.” - -“Oh?” - -“For a night only. Then go on. Go out of the province. Go back to the -coast. Is that understood?” - -Brachey inclined his head. - -“I have your promise?” - -“Yes.” - -“Very well. Good night, sir.” - -“Good night.” - -Doane turned to the door. But then he hesitated, turned, hesitated -again, finally came straight over and thrust out his hand. - -Brachey, to his own amazement, took it. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV--DILEMMA - - -1 - -WHEN DOANE had gone Brachey called John and ordered a mule litter for -eight n the morning. John found ont of the soldiers among the lounging -group by the gate. The soldier slipped out. - -Brachey busied himself until midnight in packing his bags. He felt that -he couldn't sleep; most of the later night was spent in alternately -walking the floor and trying to read. Before dawn the lamp burned out; -and he lay down in his clothes and for a few hours dreamed wildly. - -At eight the spike-studded gates swung open and an Oriental cavalcade -filed into the court. There was the litter, like a sedan chair but much -larger, swung on poles between two mules; the sides covered with red -cloth, the small swinging doors in blue; bells jingling about the necks -of the mules. There were five or six other mules and asses, each hearing -a wooden pack-saddle. There was a shaggy Manchurian pony for Brachey -to ride in clear weather. Three muleteers, two men and a boy, marched -beside the animals; hardy ragged fellows, already, or perhaps always, -caked with dirt. - -At once the usual confusion and noise began. Men of the inn crowded -about to help pack the boxes and bags of food and water and clothing on -the saddles. The mules plunged and kicked. A rope broke and had to be -elaborately repaired. The four soldiers brought out their white ponies, -saddled them, slung their carbines over their shoulders; they were -handsome men, not so ragged, in faded blue uniforms of baggy Chinese -cut, blue half-leggings, blue turbans. Into the litter went Brachey's -mattress and pillow. He tossed in after them camera, note-book, and _The -Bible in Spain;_ then mounted his savage little pony, which for a moment -plunged about among the pack animals, starting the confusion anew. - -The cook mounted one of the pack-saddles, perching himself high on a -bale, his feet on the neck of the mule. John was about to mount another, -when the leading soldier handed him a letter which he brought at once to -his master. - -Brachey with bounding pulse looked at the envelope. But the address, -“Mister J. Brachey, Esquire,” was not in Betty's brisk little hand. - -He tore it open, and read as follows: - -“My Dear Sir--Taking Time touch and go by the forelock it becomes -privileged duty to advise you to wit: - -“So-called Lookers and Western soldiers of that ilk have attacked -mission college Hung Chan with crop up outcome that these unpleasant -fellow's go the limit in violence. By telegraph officer of devotion to -His Excellency this morning very early passes the tip that that mission -college stands longer not a whit upon earth. - -“Looker soldiers acting under thumb of man mentioned during our little -chin-chin of yesterday forenoon plan within twenty-four hours advance -on T'ain-an-fu cutting off city from Eastern access and then resting on -oars, jolly well taking their time to destroy mission here and secondary -Christians, making clean job of it. - -“Officer of devotion reports further of old reprobate plan that larger -army has become nearly ready to march full tilt and devil take the -hindmost on Ping Yang engineer compound fort and lay axe to root of it. -Railroad and bridges and all works of white hands will go way of wrack -and ruin except telegraph, that being offspring of Imperial Government. - -“And now, my dear sir, as Ping Yang is place of some strength and come -on if you dare, I would respectfully recommend that you engage at once -in forlorn hope and make journey post haste to Ping Yang, as we sit on -kegs of gun powder with ground slipping out from under us as hour-glass -runs. - -“Regretting in great heaviness and sadness of heart that civilization -sees no longer light of day in Hansi Province, I beg to remain, my Dear -Sir, - -“Yours most respectfully, - -“Po Sui-an. - -“P. S. In my busy as bee excitement I have neglected to kill two birds -with one stone, and inform you that Rev. Doane of this city met death -bravely at 3 a.m. to-day at Hung Chan Northern Gate. - -“Po.” - -The cavalcade was ready now in line. At the head two soldiers sat their -ponies. The gay litter came next, bells jingling as the mules stirred. -Behind the litter stood the pack animals, with John and the cook mounted -precariously on the first two. The other two soldiers brought up the -rear. The muleteers stood lazily by, waiting.... Brachey slipped Mr. -Po's letter into a pocket and gazed up at the smoke that curled lazily -from the chimney of the innkeeper's house. The pony, restless to be -off, plunged a little; Brachey quieted him without so much as looking -down.... After a brief time he lowered his eyes. A little girl with -normal feet was trudging round and round the millstones, laboriously -grinding out a double handful of flour; a skinny old woman, in trousers, -her feet mere stumps, hobbled across the court with a stew pan, not -so much as looking up at the caravan or at the haughty white stranger; -ragged men moved about among the animals behind the manger. The huge -gates had been swung open by coolies, who stood against them; outside -was the narrow, deep-rutted roadway, with shops beyond.... Finally, -brows knit as if he were at once hurt and puzzled, face white, Brachey -took in the caravan--the calmly waiting soldiers, the muleteers, the -grotesquely mounted cook and interpreter, the large, boxlike vehicle -suspended in its richly dingy colors between two mules--and then, with -tightly compressed lips and a settling frown, he rode out into the -street ahead of the soldiers. - -With a lively jingle of bells and creakings from the litter as it swayed -into motion, the others followed. One of the soldiers promptly came up -alongside Brachey; their two ponies nearly filled the street, crowding -passers-by into doorways. - -Brachey led the way out through the Northern Gate to the mission -compound. Here he dismounted, handed his reins to a muleteer, and -entered the gate house. - -[Illustration: 0247] - -2 - -Old Sun Shao-i hurried from his chair and barred the inner door. -Regarding this white man he had orders from Mrs. Boatwright. Brachey, -however, brushed him carelessly aside and went on into the court. - -It was the sort of thing, this walking coolly in, where he was not -wanted, that he did well. He really cared nothing what they thought. -He distrusted profoundly Mrs. Boatwright's judgment, and did not even -consider sending in his name or a note. The hour had come for meeting -her face to fare and by force of will defeating her. There was no time -now for indulgence in personal eccentricities on the part of any of -these few white persons set off in a vast, threatening world of yellow -folk. - -Within the spacious courtyard the sunlight lay in glowing patches on -the red tile. Through open windows came the fresh school-room voices of -girls. At the steps of a small building at his right stood or lounged -a group of Chinese men and old women and children--Brachey had -learned that only by occasional chance is a personable young or even -middle-aged. - - -He led the way out through the northern gate aged woman visible to -masculine eyes in China--each apparently with some ailment; one man had -eczema; one boy a goitre that puffed out upon his breast, others with -traces of the diseases that rage over China unchecked except to a -tiny degree here and there in the immediate neighborhood of a medical -mission.... It was a scene of peace and apparent security. The mission -organization was functioning normally. Clearly they hadn't the news. - -A thin thoughtful woman came out of a school building, and confronted -him. - -“I am Mr. Brachey,” said he coldly; “Jonathan Brachey.” - -The woman drew herself up stiffly. - -“What can I do for you, sir?” - -She was stern; hostile.... How little it mattered! - -“I must see you all together, at once,” he said in the same coldly -direct manner--“Mr. and Mrs. Boatwright, if you please, and any others.” - -“Can't you say what you have to say to me now? I am Miss Hemphill, the -head teacher.” - -“No,” he replied, not a muscle of his face relaxing. “May I ask why -not?” - -“It is not a matter of individual judgment.” - -“But Mrs. Boatwright will refuse to see you.” - -“I am sony, but Mrs. Boatwright will have to see me and at once. And not -alone, if you please. I don't care to allow her to dismiss what I have -to say without consideration.” - -Miss Hemphill considered; finally went up into the dispensary, past the -waiting unfortunates on the steps. Brachev stood erect, motionless, -like a military man. After a moment, Miss Hemphill came out, followed by -another woman. - -“This is Dr. Cassin,” she said; adding with a slight hesitation as if -she found the word unpalatable--“Mr. Brachey.” - -The physician at once took the matter in hand. - -“You will please tell us what you have to say, Mr. Brachey. It will be -better not to trouble Mrs. Boatwright.” - -Brachey made no reply to this speech; merely stood as if thinking the -matter over. Then his eye caught' a glimpse of something pink and white -that fluttered past an up-stairs window. Then, still without a word, he -went on to the residence, mounted the steps and rang the bell. - -The two women promptly followed. - -“You will please not enter this house,” said Dr. Cassin severely. - -A Chinese servant opened the door. - -“I wish to see Mr. and Mrs. Boatwright at once,” said Brachey; then, as -the servant was about to close the door, stepped within. - -The two women pressed in after him. - -“You are acting in a very high-handed manner,” remarked Dr. Cassin with -heat--“an insolent manner.” - -“I regret that it is necessary.” - -“It is _not_ necessary!” This from Miss Hemphill. - -He merely looked at her, then away; stood waiting. - -Mrs. Boatwright appeared in a doorway. - -“What does this mean?” was all she seemed able to say at the moment. - -“Will you kindly send for the others”--thus Brachey--“Mr. Boatwright, -any other whites who may be here, and--Miss Doane.” - -“Certainly not.” - -“It is necessary.” - -“It is not. Why are you here?” - -“It is not a matter for you to decide. I must have everybody present.” - -There was a rustle from the stairs. Betty, very pale, her slim young -person clad in a lacy négligée gown of Japanese workmanship, very quick -and light and nervously alert, came down. - -“Will you please go back to your room?” cried Mrs. Boatwright. - -But the girl, coming on as far as the newel post, stopped there and -replied, regretfully, even gently, but firmly: - -“No, Mrs. Boatwright.” - -“Will you at least do us the courtesy to dress yourself properly?” - -This, Betty, her eyes straining anxiously toward Brachey, ignored. - -3 - -Dr. Casein then abruptly, speaking in Chinese, sent the servant for Mr. -Boatwright, and deliberately led the way into the front room. The others -followed, without a word, and stood about silently until the appearance -of Mr. Boatwright, who came in rather breathless, mopping his small -features. - -“How do you do?” he said to Brachey; and for an instant seemed to be -considering extending his hand; but after a brief survey of the grimly -silent figures in the room, catching the general depression in the social -atmosphere, he let the hand fall by his side. - -“Now, Mr. Braehey,” remarked Dr. Cassin, with an air of professional -briskness, “every one is present. We are ready for the business that -brought you here.” Brachey looked about the room; his eyes rested -longest on the physician. To her he handed the letter, saying simply: - -“This was written within the hour, by Po Sui-an, secretary to His -Excellency Pao Ting Chuan. Will you please read it aloud, Dr. Cassin?” - -Then, as if through with the others, he went straight over to Betty, who -stood by the windows. Quickly and softly he said: - -“Brace up, little girl! It is bad news.” - -“Oh!” she breathed, “is it--is it--father?” - -He bowed. She saw his tightened lips and the shine in his eyes; then she -wavered, fought for breath, caught at his hand. - -Mrs. Boatwright was calling out, apparently to Betty, something about -taking a chair on the farther side of the room. There was a stir of -confusion; but above it Brachey's voice rose sharply: - -“Read, please, Dr. Cassin!” - -Soberly they listened. After beginning the postscript, Dr. Cassin -stopped short; then, slowly, with considerable effort, read the -announcement of Griggsby Duane's death. - -Then the room was still. - -Mrs. Boatwright was the first to speak; gently for her, and unsteadily, -though the strong will that never failed this vigorous woman carried her -along without a sign of hesitation. - -“Mary,” she said, addressing Miss Hemphill, “you had better go up-stairs -with Betty.” - -Dr. Cassin, ignoring this, or perhaps only half-hearing it (her eyes -were brimming) broke in with: - -“Mr. Brachey, you must have come here with some definite plan or -purpose. Will you please tell us what it is?” - -“No!” cried Mrs. Boatwright--“no! If you please, Mary, this man must not -stay here. Betty!... Betty, dear!” - -Betty did not even turn. She was staring out the window into the -peaceful sunflecked courtyard, the tears running unheeded down her -cheeks, her hand twisted tightly in Brachey's. He spoke now, in the cold -voice, very stiff and constrained, that masked his feelings. - -“The death of Mr. Doane makes it clear that there is no safety here. -There is a chance, to-day, for us all to get safely away. I have, at the -gate, a litter and one riding horse, also a few pack animals. Most of -my goods can be thrown aside--clothing, all that. The food I have, used -sparingly, would serve for a number of us. We should be able to pick -up a few carts. I suggest that we do so at once, and that we get away -within an hour, if possible. We must keep together, of course. I suggest -further, that any differences between us be set aside for the present.” - -They looked at one another. Miss Hemphill pursed her lips and knit her -brows, as if unable to think with the speed required. Dr. Cassin, sad -of face, soberly thinking, moved absently over to the silent girl by -the window; gently put an arm about her shoulders. Mr. Boatwright, sunk -deeply in his chair, was pulling with limp aimless fingers at the fringe -on the chair-arm; once he glanced up at his wife. - -“This may not be true,” said Mrs. Boatwright abruptly. - -“It is from Pao's yamen,” said Miss Hemphill. - -“But it may be no more than a rumor. Our first duty is to telegraph Mrs. -Nacy at Hung Chan and ask for full particulars.” - -“Is”--this was Mr. Boatwright; he cleared his throat--“is there time?” - -Mrs. Boatwright's mouth had clamped shut. No one had ever succeeded in -stampeding or even hurrying her mind. She had, for the moment, dismissed -the special problem of Betty and this man Brachey from that mind and was -considering the general problem. That settled, she would again take up -the Brachey matter. - -“There is time,” she said, after a moment. “There must be. Mr. Doane -left positive instructions that we were to await his return. He will be -here to-night or to-morrow morning, if he is alive.” - -“But--my dear”--it was her husband again--“Po is careful to explain that -by to-morrow escape will be cut off.” - -“That,” replied his wife, still intently thinking, “is only a rumor, -after all. China is always full of rumors. Even if it is true, these -soldiers are not likely to act so promptly, whatever Po may think. If -they should, we shall be no safer on the highway than here in our own -compound.... And how about our natives? How about our girls--all of -them? Shall we leave them?... No!” She was thinking, tanking. “No, -I shall not go. I am going to stay here. I shall keep my word to Mr. -Doane.” - -Then she rose and approached the little group by the window. Her eyes, -resting on the firmly clasped hands of the lovers, snapped fire. Her -face, again, was granite. To Dr. Cassiri, very quietly, she remarked, -“Take Betty up-stairs, please.” - -The physician, obeying, made a gentle effort to draw the girl away; but -met with no success. - -Mrs. Boatwright addressed herself to Brachey: “Will you please leave -this compound at once!” - -He said nothing. Betty's fingers were twisting within his. - -“I can hardly make use of force,” continued Mrs. Boatwright, “but I ask -you to leave us. And we do not wish to see you again.” - -Brachey drew in a slow long breath: looked about the room, from one to -another. Miss Hemphill and Boatwright had risen; both were watching him; -the little man seemed to have found his courage, for his chin was up -now. - -And Brachey felt, knew, that they were a unit against him. The -fellow-feeling, the community of faith and habit that had drawn them -together through long, lonely years of service, was stronger now than -any mere threat of danger, even of death. They felt with the indomitable -woman who had grown into the leadership, and would stay with her. - -Brachey surveyed them. These were the missionaries he had despised as -weak, narrow little souls. Narrow they might be, but hardly weak. No, -not weak. Even this curious little Boatwright; something that looked -like strength had come to life in him. He wouldn't desert. He would -stay. To certain and horrible death, apparently. The very certainty of -the danger seemed to be clearing that wavering little mind of his. A -thought that made it all the more puzzling was that these people knew, -so much better, so much more deeply, than he, all that had happened -in 1900. Their own friends and pupils--white and yellow--had been -slaughtered. The heart-breaking task of reconstruction had been theirs. - -And at the same time, seeming like a thought-strand in his brain, was -the heart-breaking pressure of that soft, honest little hand in his.... -Very likely it was the end for all of them. - -“Very well,” he said icily. “I am sorry I can't be of use. However, if -any of you care to go I shall esteem it a privilege to share my caravan -with you.” - -No one spoke, or moved. The iron face of Mrs. Boatwright confronted his. - -Very gently, fighting his deepest desire, fighting, it seemed, life -itself, he tried to disentangle his fingers from Betty's. - -But hers gripped the more tightly. There was a silence. - -Then Betty whispered--faintly, yet not caring who might hear: - -“I can't let you go.” - -“You must, dear.” - -“Then I can't stay here. Will you take me with you?” - -He found this impossible to answer. - -“It won't take me long. Just a few things in a bag.” And she started -away. - -Mrs. Boatwright made an effort to block her, but Betty, without another -sound, slipped by and out of the room and ran up the stairs. - -Then Mrs. Boatwright turned on the man. - -“You will do this?” she said, in firm stinging tunes. “You will take -this girl away?” - -He looked at her out of an expressionless face. Behind that mask, his -mind was swiftly surveying the situation from every angle. He knew that -he couldn't, as it stood, leave Betty here. And they wouldn't let him -stay. He must at least try to save her. Nothing else mattered. - -“Yes,” he replied. - -Mrs. Boatwright turned away. Brachey moved out into the hall and stood -there. To her “At least you will step outside this house?” he replied, -simply, “No.” Dr. Cassin, with a remark about the waiting queue at the -dispensary, went quietly back to her routine work, as if there were no -danger in the world. Mr Boatwright had turned to his wife's desk, and -was making a show of looking over some papers there. Miss Hemphill sank -into a chair and stared at the wall with the memory of horror in her -eyes. Mrs. Boatwright stood within the doorway, waiting. - -A little time passed. Then Betty came running down the stairs, in -traveling suit, carrying a hand-bag. - -Mrs. Boatwright stepped forward. - -“You really mean to tell me that you will go--alone--with this man?” - -Betty's lips slowlyy formed the word, “Yes.” - -“Then never come again to me. I can not help you. You are simply bad.” - -Betty turned to Brachey; gave him her bag. - -Outside the gate house the little caravan waited. - -The mules were brought to their knees. Betty stepped, without a word, -into the litter. Brachey closed the side door, and mounted his pony. -The mules were kicked and flogged to their feet. The two soldiers in -the lead set off around the city wall to the corner by the eastern gate, -whence the main highway mounted slowly into the hills toward Ping Yang. -As they turned eastward, a fourth muleteer, ragged and dirty, bearing a -small pack, as the others, joined the party; a fact not observed by the -white man, who rode close beside the litter. - -But when they had passed the last houses and were out where the road -began to sink below the terraced grain-fields, the new muleteer stepped -forward. For a little space he walked beside the white man's pony. - -Brachey, at last aware of him, glanced down at the ragged figure. - -“It's a deuce of a note,” said the new muleteer, looking up and smiling, -“that your courtesy should return like confounded boomerang on your -head. I make thousands of apologies.” - -Brachey started; then said, merely: - -“Oh!... You!” - -“Indeed I have in my own canoe take French leave. That it is funny as -the devil and intruding presumption I know full well. But I have thought -to be of service and pay my shot if you offer second helping of courtesy -and glad hand.” - -Brachey nodded. “Come along,” said he. - - - - -CHAPTER XV--THE HILLS - - -1 - -MOST of the day, advised by Brachey. Betty kept closed the swinging -litter doors. The little caravan settled into the routine of the -highway, the muleteers trudging beside their animals. The gait was a -steady three miles an hour. John rode his pack-saddle hour after hour, -until six' o'clock in the evening, without a word. Just behind him, -the cook, a thin young man with dreamy eyes, sang quietly a continuous -narrative in a wailing, yodling minor key. - -Before the end of the first hour they had lost sight of T'ainan-fu and -buried themselves in the hills; buried themselves in a double sense, for -wherever water runs in Northwestern China the roads are narrow canyons. -At times, however, the way mounted high along the hillsides, on narrow -footways of which the mules all instinctively trod the outer edge. -Brachey found it alarming to watch the litter as it swayed over some -nearly perpendicular precipice. For neither up here on the hillsides nor -along the path nor in the depths below was there a sign of solid rock; -it was all the red-brown earth known as loess, which is so fine that it -may be ribbed into the pores like talc or flour and that packs down -as firmly as chalk. Along the sunken ways were frequent caves, the -dwelling-places of crippled, loathsome beggars, with rooms cut out -square and symmetrical doors and windows. - -In the high places one might look across a narrow chasm and see, -decorating the opposite wall, strata of the loess in delicately varied -tints of brown, red, Indian red and crimson, with blurred soft streaks -of buff and yellow at times marking the divisions. - -The hills themselves were steep and crowded in, as if a careless -Oriental deity had scooped together great handfuls of brown dice and -thrown them haphazard into heaps. Trees were so few--here and there one -might be seen clinging desperately to a terrace-wall where the narrow -fields of sprouting millet and early shoots of vegetables mounted tier -on tier to the very summits of the hills--that the general effect was of -utter barrenness, a tumbling red desert. - -Much cf the time they were winding through the canyons or twisting about -the hillsides with only an occasional outlook wider than a few hundred -yards or perhaps a half-mile, but at intervals the crowded little peaks -would separate, giving them a sweeping view over miles of shadowy red -valleys.... At such times Betty would open one of her windows a little -and lean forward; riding close behind, Brachey could see her face, -usually so brightly alert, now sad, peeping out at the richly colored -scene. - -Frequently they passed trains of camels or asses or carts, often on -a precipice where one caravan hugged the loess wall while the other -flirted with death along the earthen edge. But though the Hansean or -Chihlean muleteers shouted and screamed in an exciting confusion of -voices and the Mongol camel drivers growled and the ponies plunged, no -animal or man was lost. - -Nearly always the air was heavy with fine red dust. It enveloped -them like a fog, penetrating clothing, finding its way into packs and -hand-bags. At times it softened and exquisitely tinted the view. - -At long intervals the little caravan wound its slow way through villages -that were usually built along a single narrow street. In the broader -valleys the villages, gray brown and faintly red like the soil of which -their bricks had once been moulded, clung compactly to hill-slopes -safely above the torrents of spring and autumn, each little settlement -with its brick or stone wall and its ornamental pagoda gates, and each -with its cluster of trees about some consequential tomb rising above the -low roofs in plumes of pale green April foliage. - -Nowhere was there a sign of the disorder that was ravaging the province -like a virulent disease. Brachey was aware of no glances of more -than the usual passing curiosity from slanting eyes. He saw only the -traditional peaceful countryside of the Chinese interior. - -This sense of peace and calm had an effect on his moody self that -increased as the day wore on. Life was turning unreal on his hands. -His judgment wavered and played tricks with memory. Had it been so -dangerous back there in T'ainan? Could it have been? He had to look -steadily at the ragged, trudging figure of the erstwhile elegant Mr. Po -to recapture a small degree of mental balance.... He had brought Betty -away. He saw this now with a nervous, vivid clarity for what it was, -an irrevocable act. It had come about naturally and simply; it had felt -inevitable; yet now at moments, unable to visualize again the danger -that had seemed terribly real in T'ainan he felt it only as the logical -end of the emotional drift that had carried the two of them far -out beyond the confines of reason. It was even possible that Mrs. -Boatwright's judgment was the better. - -But Betty couldn't go back now; they had turned her off; not unless -her father should yet prove to be alive, and that was hardly thinkable. -Anxiously during the day, he asked Mr. Po about that. But Mr. Po's -confidence in the accuracy of his information was unshakable. So here he -was, with a life on his hands, a life so dear to him that he could -not control his mind in merely thinking of her there in the litter, -traveling along without a question, for better or worse, with himself; -a life that perhaps, despite this new spirit of consecration that was -rising in his breast, he might succeed only in injuring. Brooding thus, -he became grave and remote from her. - -In his distant way he was very considerate, very kind. During the -afternoon, as they moved up a long valley, skirting a broad watercourse -where peach and pear trees foamed with blossoms against the lower slopes -of the opposite hills, he persuaded her to descend from the litter -and walk for a mile or two with him. He felt then her struggle to keep -cheerful and make conversation, but himself lacked the experience with -women that would have made it possible for him to overcome his own -depression and brighten her, Once, when the caravan stopped to repack -a slipping saddle, he asked her to sketch the view for him. It was his -idea that she should be kept occupied when possible. He always corrected -his own moods in that disciplinary manner. But just then his feelings -were running so high, his tenderness toward her was so sensitively deep, -that he spoke bruskly. - -They rode on through the sunset into the dusk. The red hills turned -slowly purple under the glowing western sky, swam mistily in a -world-wide sea of soft dame. - -Betty opened her windows wide now; gazed out at this scene of unearthly -beauty with a sad deep light in her eyes. - -2 - -They rode into another village. A soldier galloped on ahead to inspect -the less objectionable inn. He reappeared soon, and the caravan jingled -and creaked into a courtyard and stopped for the night. John dismounted -and plunged into argument with the innkeeper. The cook set to work -removing a pack-saddle. Coolies appeared. The mules were beaten to their -knees. Brachey threw his bridle to a soldier and helped Betty out of -the litter. Then they stood, he and she, amid the confusion, her hand -resting lightly on his arm, her eyes on him. - -Here they were! He felt now her loneliness, her sadness, her--the word -rose--her helpless dependence upon himself. She was so helpless! His -heart throbbed with feeling. He couldn't look down at her, standing -there so close. He couldn't have spoken; not just then. He was -struggling with the impractical thought that he might yet protect her -from the savage tongues of the coast; from himself, even, when you came -to it. The depression that had been pulling him down all day was turning -now, rushing up and flooding his fired brain like a bitter tide. He -shouldn't have let her come. It had been a beautiful impulse; her quiet -determination to give her life into his hands had thrilled him beyond -his deepest dreams of happiness, had lifted him to a plane of devotion -that he remembered now, felt again, even in his bitterness, as utter -beauty, intensified rather than darkened by the tragic quality of the -hour. But he shouldn't have let her come. Mightn't she, after all, have -been as safe hack there in the mission compound? What was the -matter?... He hadn't thought of her coming on with him alone. That had -simply happened. It was bewildering. Life had swept them out of -commonplace safety, and now here they were! And nothing to do but go on, -go through! - -“Oh, I left my bag in there,” he heard her saying, and himself got it -quickly from the litter. - -Then John came. The “number one” rooms were to be theirs, it seemed; -Betty's and his.... If only he could talk to her! She needed him so ! -Never, perhaps, again, would she need him as now, and he, it seemed, was -failing her. Silently he led her up the steps of the little building at -the end of the courtyard and into the corridor; peered into one dim room -and then into the other; then curtly, roughly ordered John to spread for -her his own square of new matting. - -Her hand was still on his arm, resting there, oh, so lightly. She seemed -very slim and small. - -“It's a dreadful place,” he made himself say. “But we'll have to make -the best of it.” - -“I don't mind,” he thought she replied. - -“Perhaps we'd better have dinner in here, It's a little cleaner than my -room.” - -She glanced up at him, then down: “I don't believe I can eat anything.” - -“But you must.” - -“I--I'll try.” - -“I'll ask Mr. Po to come in with us. He is a gentleman. And perhaps it -would be better.” - -“Oh, yes,” said she, “of course.” - -“Here's John with hot water. I'll leave you now.” - -“You'll--come back?” - -“For dinner, yes.” - -With this he gently withdrew his arm. As she watched him go her eyes -filled Then she closed her door. - -Brachey found Mr. Po curled on the ground against a pack-saddle, smoking -a Chinese pipe. - -He rose at once, all smiles, and bowed half-way to the ground. But he -thought it inadvisable to accept the invitation. - -“I hate to be fly in ointments,” he said, with his curiously -dispassionate quickness and ease of speech, “but it's really no go. Our -own men would play game of thick and thin blood brother, but to village -gossip monger I must remain muleteer and down and out person of no -account. It's a dam' sight safer for each and every one of us.” - -3 - -Betty tried to set the dingy room to rights. John had laid a white -cloth over the table, and put out Brachey's tin plate and cup, his -knife, fork and spoon, an English biscuit tin and a bright little -porcelain jar of Scotch jam that was decorated with a red-and-green -plaid. These things helped a little. She tidied herself as best she -could; and then waited. - -For a time she sat by the table, very still, hands folded in her lap; -but this was difficult, for thoughts came--thoughts that spun around -and around and bewildered her--and tears. The tears she would not -permit. She got up; rearranged the things on the table; moved over to -the window, and through a hole in one of the paper squares watched with -half-seeing eyes the coolies and soldiers and animals in the courtyard. -Her head ached. And that wheel of patchwork thoughts spun uncontrollably -around. - -For a little time then the tears came unhindered. That her father, that -strong splendid man, could have been casually slain by vagabonds in a -Chinese city seemed now, as it had seemed all day, incredible. His loss -was only in part personal to her, so much of her life had been lived -on the other side of the world; but childhood memories of him rose, and -pictures of him as she had lately seen him, grave and kind and (since -that moving little talk about beauty and its importance in the struggle -of life) lovable. Her mother, too, had to-day become again a vivid -memory. And then the sheer mystery of death twisted and tortured her -sensitive Pagination, led her thoughts out into regions so grimly, darkly -beautiful, so unbearably poignant, that her slender frame shook with -sobs. - -The sensation of rootlessness, too, was upon her. But now it was -complete. There was no tie to hold her to life. Only this man on whom, -moved by sheer emotion, without a thought of self, yet (she thought now) -with utter unreasoning selfishness, she had fastened herself. - -Mrs. Boatwright had called her bad. That couldn't be true. She couldn't -picture herself as that. Even now, in this bitter crisis, she wasn't -hard, wasn't even reckless; simply bewildered and terribly alone. -Emotion had caught her. It _was_ like a net. It had carried her finally -out of herself. There was no way back; she was caught. Yet now the only -thing that had justified this step--and how simple, how easy it had -appeared in the morning!--the beautiful sober passion that had drawn -her to the one mate, was clouded. For he had changed! He had drawn -away. They were talking no more of love. She couldn't reach him; her -desperately seeking heart groped in a dim wilderness and found no one, -nothing. His formal kindness hurt her. Nothing could help her but love; -and love, perhaps, was gone. - -So the wheel spun on and on. - -She saw him talking with the indomitably courteous Mr. Po. He came -back then to the building they were to share that night. She heard him -working at his door across the narrow corridor, trying to close it. -He succeeded; then stirred about his room for a long time; a very long -time, she thought. - -Then John came across the court from the innkeeper's kitchen with -covered dishes, steaming hot. She let him in; then, while he was setting -out the meal, turned away and once more fought back the tears. Brachey -must not see them. She was helped in this by a sudden mentally blinding -excitement that came, an inexplicable nervous tension. He was coming; -and alone, for she had seen Mr. Po shake his head and settle back -contentedly with his pipe against the pack-saddle.... That was the -strange fact about love; it kept rushing unexpectedly back whenever her -unstable reason had for a little while disposed of it; an unexpected -glimpse of him, a bit of his handwriting, a mere thought was often -enough. Sorrow could not check it; at this moment her heart seemed -broken by the weight of the tragic world, yet it thrilled at the -sound of his step. And it couldn't be wholly selfish, for the quite -overwhelming uprush of emotion brought with it a deeper tenderness -toward her brave father, toward that pretty, happy mother of the long -ago; she thought even of her school friends. She was suddenly stirred -with the desire to face this strange struggle called living and -conquer it. Her heart leaped. He was coming! - -His door opened. He stepped across the corridor and tapped at hers. She -hurried to open it. All impulse, she reached out a hand; then, chilled, -caught again in the dishearteringly formal mood of the day, drew it -back. - -For he stood stiffly there, clad in black with smooth white shirt-front -and collar and little black tie. He had dressed for dinner. - -She turned quickly toward the table. - -“John has everything ready,” she said, now quite as formal as he. “We -may as well sit right down.” - -4 - -For a time they barely spoke. John had lighted the native lamp, and it -flickered gloomily in the swiftly gathering darkness, throwing a huge -shadow of him on the walls, and even on the ceiling, as he moved softly -in his padded shoes about the table and in and out at the door. - -Betty's mood had sunk, now at last, into the unreal. She seemed to be -living through a dream of nightmare quality--something she had--it -was elusive, haunting--lived through before. She saw Jonathan Brachey -distantly, as she had seen him at first, so bewilderingly long ago on -a ship in the Inland Sea of Japan. She saw again his long bony nose, -coldly reflective eyes, firmly modeled head.... And he was talking, -when he spoke at all, as he had talked on the occasion of their first -meeting, slowly, in somewhat stilted language, pausing interminably -while he hunted about in his amazing mind for the word or phrase that -would precisely express his meaning. - -“There is a village a short distance this side of Ping Yang, Mr. Po -tells me”... here a pause... “not an important place. Ordinarily we -should pass through it about noon of the day after to-morrow. But he -has picked up word that a Looker band has been organized there, and -he thinks it may be best for us to...” and here a pause so long as to -become nearly unbearable to Betty. For a time she moved her fork idly -about her plate, waiting for that next word. At length she gave up, -folded her hands in her lap, tried to compose her nerves. After that she -glanced timidly at him, then looked up at the waveing shadows on the -dim veils. It was almost as if he had forgotten she was there. He was -interested, apparently, in nothing in life except those words he sought: -“... to make a detour to the south.” - -Betty drew in a deep breath. She felt her color coming slowly back. The -'best thing to do, she decided, was to go on trying to eat. He had been -right enough about that. She must try. It was, in a way, her part of it; -to keep strong. Or she would be more hopelessly than ever fastened on -him.... It seemed to her as never before a dreadful thing to be a woman. -Tears came again, and she fought them back, even managed actually to -eat a little. “It will mean still another....” - -“Another what?” She waited and waited. - -“Another night on the road, after tomorrow. I am sorry.” - -[Illustration: 0273] - -She had lately forgotten the slightly rasping quality in his voice, -though it had been what she had first heard there. Now it seemed to her -that she could hear nothing else.... What blind force was it that had -thrust them so wide apart; after those ardent, tender, heart-breaking -hours together at T'ainan; wonderful stolen hours, stirring her to a -happiness so wildly beautiful that it touched creative springs in her -sensitive young soul and released the strong eager woman there. This, -the present situation, carried her so far beyond her experience, beyond -her mental grasp, that, she could only sit very quiet and try to weather -it. She could do that, of course, somehow. One did. It came down simply -to the gift of character. And that, however undeveloped, she had. - -Now and then, of course, clear thoughts flashed out for a moment; but -only for a moment at a time. She sensed clearly enough that his whole -being was centered on the need of protecting her. It was the fineness in -him that made him hold himself so rigidly to the task. But it was a task -to him; that was the thing. And his reticence! It was his attitude--or -was it hers?--that had made frank talk impossible all day, ever since -their moment of perfect silent understanding facing Mrs. Boatwright. He -had felt then, with her, that she had to come, that it was their only -way out; but now he, and therefore she, was clouded with afterthoughts. -They had come to be frank enough about their dilemma, back there at -T'ainan. But from the moment of leaving the city gate and striking tiff -into the hills, they had lost something vital. And with every hour of -this reticence, this talking about nothing, the situation was going to -grow worse. She felt that, even now; struggled against it; but tound -herself moving deeper, minute by minute, into the gloom that had settled -on them.... And back of her groping thoughts, giving them a puzzling -sort of life, was excitement, energy, the sense of being borne swiftly -along on a mighty wave of feeling--swiftly, swiftly, to a tragic, dim -place where the withered shadows of youth and joy and careless laughter -caught at one in hopeless weakness and slipped off unheeded into the -unknown. - -They came down at last to politeness. They even spoke of the food; -and he reproved John for not keeping the curried mutton hot. And then, -without one personal word, he rose to go. She rose, too, and stood -beside her chair; she couldn't raise her eyes. She heard his voice -saying, coldly she thought: - -“I shall leave you now. You must...” - -She waited, holding her breath. - -“... you must get what sleep you can. I think we shall have no trouble -here.” - -After this he stood for a long moment. She couldn't think why. Then he -went out, softly closing the door after him. Then his door opened, and, -with some creaking of rusty hinges and scraping on the tiles, closed. -And then Betty dropped down by the table and let the tears come. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI--DESTINY - - -1 - -SHE heard little more for several hours; merely a muffled stirring -about, at long intervals, as if he were walking the floor or trying to -move a chair very quietly. The cot on which she now so restlessly lay -was his. She couldn't sleep; he might as well have it, but would, of -course, refuse.... She listened for a long time to the movements of the -animals in the stable. Much later--the gong-clanging watchman had passed -on his rounds twice at fewest; it must have been midnight--she heard -him working very softly at his door. He was occupied some little time at -this. She lay breathless. At length he got it open, and seemed to -stand quietly in the corridor. Then, after a long silence, he opened -as carefully the outer door, that had on it, she knew, a spring of bent -steel, like a bow. After this he was still; standing outside, perhaps, -or sitting on the top step. - -For a moment she indulged herself in the wish that she might ha\e -courage to call to him; to call him by name; to call him by the name, -“John,” she had no more than begun, that last day in the tennis court, -timidly to utter. Her whole being yearned toward him She asked herself, -lying there, why honesty should be impossible to a girl. Why shouldn't -she call to him? She needed him so; not the strange stilted man of the -day and evening, but the other, deeply tender lover that breathed still, -she was almost sure, somewhere within the crust that encased him. -And they had been honest, he and she; that had turned out to be the -wonderful fact in their swift courtship. - -But this was only a vivid moment. She made no sound. The warm tears lay -on her cheeks. - -After a little--it rose out of a jumble of wild thoughts, and then -slowly came clear; she must have been dozing lightly--she heard his -voice, very low; then another voice, a man's, that ran easily on in a -soft nervelessness, doubtless the voice of Mr. Po. She thought of making -a sound, even of lighting the little iron lamp; they must not be left -thinking her safely asleep; but she did nothing; and the voices faded -into dreams as a fitful sleep came to her. Nature is merciful to the -young. - -2 - -During those evening hours, Brachey sat for the most part staring -at his wall. Finally, at the very edge of despair--for life, all that -night, and the next day and the next night, offered Brachey nothing -but a blank, black precipice over which he and Betty were apparently -plunging--he gave up hope of falling asleep in his chair (important -though he knew sleep to he, in the grisly light of what might yet have -to be faced) and went out and sat on the steps; still in the grotesquely -inappropriate dinner costume. - -A shape detached itself from the shadows of the stable door and moved -silently toward him. - -Brachey welcomed the opportunity for a little man talk, if only -because it might, for the time, take his mind in some degree out of the -emotional whirlpool in which it was helplessly revolving. - -“You've heard no more news?” he asked. - -“Oh, no,” replied Mr. Po, with his soft little laugh. “There is no more -oil on fire of province discontent.” - -“From your letter I gathered that you are not so sure of Pao.” - -Mr. Po did not at once reply to this; seemed to be considering it, -gazing out on the moonlit courtyard. - -“It is no longer a case of cat and mouse,” Brachey pressed on. -“Something happened last night at the yamen. Am I right?” - -“Oh, yes.” - -Brachey waited. After a long pause Mr. Po shifted his position, laughed -a little, then spoke as follows: - -“In afternoon yesterday old reprobate, Kang, sent to His Excellency -letter which passed between my hands as secretary. He said that in days -like these of great sorrow and humiliation agony of China it is best -that those of responsible care and devotion to her welfare should draw -together in friendship, and therefore he would in evening make call on -His Excellency to express friendship and speak of measures that might -lay dust of misunderstanding and what-not.” - -“Hmm!” Thus Brachey. “And what did _that_ mean?” - -“Oh, the devil to pay and all! It was insult of blackest nature.” - -“I don't quite see that.” - -“Oh, yes. He should not have written in arrogant put-in-your-place way. -His Excellency most graciously gave orders to prepare ceremonial banquet -and presents of highest value, but in his calm eye flashed light of -battle to death. You see, sir, it was thought of Kang to show all -T'ainan and near-by province who was who, taking bull by horns.” - -“Hmm! I don't know as I... well, go on.” - -“In particular His Excellency made prepare great bowl of sweet lotus -soup, for in past years Kang had great weakness for such soup made by -old cook of far-away Canton who attach to His Excellency a devil of a -while ago.” - -“And so they had the banquet?” - -“Oh, yes, and I was privileged to be in midst.” - -“You were there?” - -“Oh, yes. Banquet was of great dignity and courteous good fellowship.” - -“I don't altogether understand the good fellowship.” - -“China custom habit differs no end from Western custom habit.” - -“Naturally. Yes. But what was Kang really up to?” - -“I'm driving at that. After banquet all attendant retinue mandarins -withdraw out of rooms except secretaries.” - -“Why didn't they go too?” - -“Oh, well, it was felt by Kang that His Excellency might put it all -over him with knives of armed men. And His Excellency had not forgotten -tricky thought of Kang in eighteen-ninety-eight in Shantung when he asks -disagreement but very strong mandarins to banquet and then sends out -soldiers to remove heads in a wink while mandarins ride out to their -homes when all good nights are said.” - -“You mean that Kang's men beheaded all his dinner guests, because they -disagreed with him?” - -“Oh, yes.” Here Mr. Po grew reflective. “Kang is very queer old son of a -gun--very tall, very thin, very old, with face all lines that come down -so”--he drew down his smooth young face in excellent mimicry of an old -man--“and he stoops so, and squints little sharp eyes like river rat, -so. A mighty smart man, the reprobate! Regular old devil!” Mr. Po -laughed a little. “My bosom friend Chih T'ang slipped himself in to -me and explained in whisper talk that yamen of His Excellency was -surrounded by Western soldiers of that old Manchu devil. And within -yamen, up to third gate itself, swarmed a hell of a crowd of Manchu -guard of Kang. It was no joke, by thunder!” - -“I should say not,” observed Brachey dryly. “You were going to tell me -what Kang was really up to.” - -“Oh, yes! I will tell that post haste. When all had gone except four--” - -“That is, Kang, and His Excellency, and two secretaries?” - -“Yes, of whom it was my honor to be absurdly small part. Then Kang -explained with utmost etiquette courtesy to His Excellency that letter -had but yesterday come to him of most hellish import and very front -rank. And his secretary handed cool as you please letter to me and I -to Kis Excellency. It was letter of Prince Tuan to old Kang giving him -power to have beheaded at once His Excellency.” - -“To behead Pao?” - -“Oh, yes! And Kang said in neat speech then that no one could imagine -his heartsick distress that one in power should wish great headless -injury to dear old friend of long years and association government. To -him he said it meant hell to pay. And he asked that His Excellency pass -over from own hand infamous letter to be destroyed on spot by own hand -of himself with firm resolve. But His Excellency smiled--a dam' big -man!--and said for letter of Prince Tuan he felt only worshipful respect -and obedience spirit, and he gave letter to me, and I delivered it to -secretary of Kang, and secretary of Kang delivered it; to old Manchu -himself. Then Kang, with own hands tore letter to bits and dropped bits -in bowl, and his secretary asked me to have servant burn them, but I put -on courteous look of attention to slightest wish of His Excellency -and do not hear low word of secretary to old devil. And then Manchu -reprobate with great courtesy makes farewell ceremony and goes out to -his chair and altogether it's a hell of a note.” - -Bradley, in his deliberately reflective way, put the curious story -together in his mind. - -“Kang, of course, sent to Peking for that letter.” he said. - -“Oh, yes.” - -“It was, in a way, fair warning to Pao that the time had come for action -and that Pao had better not try to meddle.” - -“Oh, yes--all of that. When he had gone Pao was sad. For he knew now -that Kang had on his side heavy hand of Imperial Court at Peking. And -then, late in night we have word from yamen of Kang and other word from -observing officers of His Excellency that Western soldiers make attack -at Hung Chan and that Reverend Doane is killed at city gate. Old Kang -express great regret consideration and shed tears of many crocodiles, -but they don't go.” - -“And Pao found himself powerless to interfere.” - -“Oh, yes! And so then I had audience of His Excellency and with -permission of his mouth sent letter to you. His Excellency formed -opinion right off the reel that it is not wise to send warning to -mission compound, and that if I ever send word to you my head would not -longer be of much use to me in T'ainan.” - -“Need they know of it at Kang's yamen?” - -“There can not be secrets 'n yamen of great mandarin from observation -eyes of other mandarin. Nothing doing!'' - -“Oh, I see. Spying goes on all the time, of course.” - -“Oh, yes! So I say farewell with tears to His Excellency, and in these -old clothes of great disrepute, I”--he chuckled--“I make my skiddoo.” - From within the rags about his body he drew a soiled roll of paper “It -has occurred to me that at Ping Yang time might roll around heavily on -your hands and then, if you don't care what fool thing you do, you might -bring me great honor by reading this silly little thing. It is lecture -of which I spoke lightly once too often.” - -Absently Brachey took it. “But why can't old Kang see,” he asked--“and -Prince Tuan, for that matter--that if they are to start in again -slaughtering white people, they will simply be piling up fresh trouble -for China? Pao, I gather, does see it.” - -“Oh. yes, His Excellency sees very far, but now he must sit on fence and -wait a bit. Kang, like Prince Tuan, is of the old.” - -“Didn't the outcome of the Boxer trouble teach these men anything?” - -“Not these men. Old China mind is not same as Western progress mind--” - -“I quite understand that, but...” - -Mr. Po was slowly shaking his head. “No, old China minds dwell in -different proposition. It is hard to say.” - -3 - -Toward morning, before his lamp burned out, Brachey read the lecture -to which Mr. Po was pinning such great hopes. It seemed rather hopeless. -There was humor, of course, in the curious arrangement of English words; -but this soon wore off. - -Later, sitting in the dark, waiting for the first faint glow of dawn, -and partly as an exercise of will, he pondered the problems clustering -about the little, hopeful, always aggressive settlements of white in -Chinese Asia. Mr. Po's phrases came repeatedly to mind. That one--“Old -China mind dwell in different proposition.” Mr. Po was touching there, -consciously or not, on the heart of the many-tinted race problems which -this bafflingly complex old world must one day either settle or give up. -The inertia of a numerous, really civilized and ancient race like the -Chinese was in itself a mighty force, one of the mightiest in the -world.... Men like Prince Tuan and this Kang despised the West, of -course. And with some reason, when you came down to it. For along -Legation Street the whites dwelt in a confusion of motives. They had -exhibited a firm purpose only when Legation Street itself was attacked. -By no means all the stray casualties among the whites in China were -avenged by their governments. In the present little crisis out here in -Hansi, it might be a long time--a very long time indeed--before the -lumbering machinery of government could be stirred to act in an -unaccustomed direction. At the present time there were not enough -American troops in China to make possible a military expedition to Ping -Yang; merely a company of marines at the legation. To penetrate so far -inland and maintain communication an army corps would be needed; troops -might even have to be assembled and trained in America. It might take a -year. And first the diplomats would have to investigate; then the State -Department would have to be brought by heavy and complicated public -pressures to the point of actually functioning; a sentimental element -back home might question the facts... Meantime, he hadn't yet so much as -got Betty safely to Ping Yang. - -It was “hard to say.” But he found objective thought helpful. Emotion -seemed, this night, not unlike a consuming fire. Emotion was, in its -nature, desire. It led toward destruction. - -He even made himself sleep a little, in a chair; until John knocked, at -seven. Then he changed from evening dress to knickerbockers. His spirit -had now sunk so low that he had John serve them separately with -breakfast. - -When the caravan was ready he went out to the courtyard and busied -himself preparing the litter for her. She came out with John, very -white, glancing at him with a timid question in her eyes. In his -stiffest manner he handed her into the litter. - -Then, accompanied by three soldiers, they swung out on the highway. The -fourth soldier joined them outside the wall; him Brachey had sent to the -telegraph station with a message to his Shanghai bankers advising them -that his address would be in care of M. Pourmont, the Ho Shan Company, -Ping Yang, Hansi, and further that cablegrams from America were to be -forwarded immediately by wire. - -4 - -Only at intervals during the forenoon did Betty and Brachey speak; for -the most part he rode ahead of the litter. The luncheon hour was -awkward; the dinner hour, when they had settled at their second inn, was -even more difficult. They sat over their tin plates and cups in gloomy -silence. - -Finally Betty pushed her plate away, and rose; went over to the papered -window and stared out. - -Brachey got slowly to his feet; stood by the table. He couldn't raise -his eyes; he could only study the outline of his plate and move it a -little, this way and that, and pick up crumbs from the table-cloth. His -mind was leaden; the sense of unreality that had come to him on the -preceding day was now at a grotesque climax. He literally could not -think. This, he felt, was the final severe test of his character, and it -exhibited him as a failure. He was then, after all, a lone wolf; his -instinct had been sound at the start, his nature lacked the quality, the -warmth and richness of feeling, that the man who would claim a woman's -love must offer her. He could suffer--the pain that even now, as he -stood listless there, downcast, heavily fingering a tin plate, was -torturing him to the limits of his capacity to endure, told him that-- -out suffering seemed a poor gift to bring the woman he loved. ... And -here they were, unable to turn back. It was unthinkable; yet it was -true. His reason kept thundering at his ear the perhaps tragic fact that -his spirit was unable to grasp.... Braehey, during this hour--with a -bitterness so deep as to border on despair--told himself that his lack -amounted to abnormality. His case seemed quite hopeless. Yet here he -was; and here, irrevocably, was she. The harm, whatever it might prove -to be, and in spite of his sensitive, fire conquest of them emotional -problem (at such a price, this!) was done. And there were no -compensations. Here they were, lost, groping helplessly toward each -other through a dark labyrinth. - -Even when she turned (he heard her, and felt her eyes) he could not look -up. - -Then he heard her voice; an unsteady voice, very low; and he felt again -the simple honesty, the naively child-like quality, that had seemed her -finest gift. It was the artist strain in her, of course. She was not -ashamed of her feeling, of her tears; there had never been pretense or -self-consciousness in her. And while she now, at first, uttered merely -his name--'“John!”--his inner ear heard her saying again, as she had -said during their first talk in the tennis court--“I wonder if it is -like a net.”... Yes, she seemed to be saying that again. - -But he was speaking; out of a thick throat: - -“Yes?” - -“What are we to do?” - -He met this with a sort of mental dishonesty that he found himself -unable to avoid. “Well--if all goes well, we shall be safe at Ping Yang -within forty-eight hours.” - -“I don't mean that.” - -“Well...” - -“I shouldn't have come.” - -“I couldn't leave you there, dear. Not there at T'ainan.” - -“It wasn't you who made the decision.” - -“Oh, yes--” - -“No, I did it. It seemed the thing to do.” - -He managed to look up now, but could not knowhow coolly impenetrable he -appeared to be. “It _was_ the thing.” - -She slowly shook her head. “No... no, I shouldn't have come.” - -“I can't let you say that.” - -“It's true. Can't we be honest?” - -The question stung him. He dropped again into his chair and sat for a -brief time, thinking, thinking, in that, to her, terribly deliberate way -of his. - -“You're right,” he finally came out. “We've got to be honest. It's -the only thing left to us, apparently... The mistake lay back there in -T'ainan. Our first talk in the tennis court. I knew then that the thing -for me to do was to go.” - -“I didn't let you.” - -“But I should have. That situation was the same as this, only then we -hadn't crossed our Rubicon. Now w e have. Don't you see? This situation -has followed that, inevitably. And now we no longer have the power to -choose. We've got to go on, at least as far as Ping Yang. But we mustn't -be together...” - -She glanced at him, then away. - -“--no, not even like this. We have no right to indulge our moods. I'm -going to be really honest now. We're in danger from these natives, yes. -But that's a small thing.” - -She moved a hand. “Of course...” she murmured. - -“The real danger is to you. And from me. Oh, my God, child, you're -in danger from me!” He covered his face with his hands; then, after a -moment, steadied himself, and rose. “I can't stay here and talk with you -like this. I can't even help you. Already I've injured your name beyond -repair.” - -She broke in here with a low-voiced remark the mature character of which -he did not, in his self-absorption, catch. “I don't believe you know -modern girls very well.” - -He went on: “So you see, I've hurt you, and now, when you need me -most--oh, I know that!--I'm fading you. It's been a terrible mistake. -But it's my job to get you to Ping Yang. That's all. No good talking. -I'll go now'.” - -“I wish you wouldn't.” - -“I must. I--there we are! I'm failing you, that's all.” - -“I wonder if we're talking--or thinking--about the same things.” - -“Child, you're young! You don't understand! You don't seem to see how -I've hurt you!” - -“I think I see what you mean. But that--it might be difficult, of -course, for a while, but it isn't what I've been thinking of. No, please -let me say this! It wouldn't be fair not to give me my chance to be -honest too. As for that--hurting me--I came with my eyes open.” - -“Oh, Betty--” - -“Please! I did. I deliberately decided to come with you. I knew they'd -talk, but I didn't care--much. You see I had already made up my mind -that we were to be married. We'd have to be, once you were free. The way -we've felt. You came way out here, and then you didn't go.” - -“That was weakness.” - -“You can call it weakness, or something else. But I'm in the same boat. -And if we couldn't let each other go then, it was bound to grow harder -every day. I had to recognize that. That was where I crossed my Rubicon. -Nothing else mattered very much after that. I came with you because I -was all alone, and miserable, and--oh, I may as well say it...” - -“Oh, yes, honesty's the only thing now.” - -“Well, I simply had to. I couldn't face life any other way. I've been -thinking it over and over and over. I see it now. I was just selfish. -Love is selfishness, apparently. I fastened myself on you. I knew you -had to have solitude, but I didn't seem to care. Perhaps you've hurt me. -I don't know. But I am beginning to see that I've wrecked your life. I'm -your job, now, just as you said. All those things you said on the ship -have been coming up in my mind yesterday and to-day. Don't you suppose -I can see it? My whole life right now is a demand on you.” Her tone was -not bitter, but sad, unutterably sad. “You said, 'Strength is better.' -I'm running up with you now a 'spiritual' debt greater than I can ever -pay. You said, 'If any friend of mine--man or woman---can't win his own -battles, he or she had better go. To hell, if it comes to that.'” - -She was looking full at him now, wide-eyed, standing rigid, her hands -extended a little way. - -There was a long silence; then, abruptly, without a word, without even a -change of expression on his gloomy face, he left the room. - -5 - -That night was Betty's Gethsemane. Again and again she lived through -their strange quarrel over the half-eaten dinner here in her room. Her -mind phrased and rephrased the wild strong things she had said to him. -And these phrases now stung her, hurt her, as had none of his. - -But once again, after hours of tossing on the narrow folding cot--_his_ -cot--sleep of a sort came to her. She did not wake until half a hundred -beams of sunshine were streaming in through the dilapidated paper -squares. - -She rose and peeped out into the courtyard. They were packing one of -the saddles; John, and cook, and a soldier. Brachey was not in sight. He -would be in his room then, across the corridor. She wondered if he had -slept at all, then glanced guiltily at the cot. He would hardly lie on -the unclean _kang_; very likely he had been forced to doze in a chair -these two nights, while she found some real rest. There, again, she was -using him, taking from him; and all he had asked of life was solitude, -peace. For that he had foregone friends, a home, his country. - -Then her eyes rested on a bit of white paper under the door. She quickly -drew it in, and read as follows: - -“My Dear, Dear Little Girl-- - -“As you of course saw this evening, it is simply impossible for me to -speak rationally in matters of the affections. It is equally clear -that by indulging my feelings toward you I have brought you nothing -but unhappiness. This was inevitable. As I wrote you before I am not a -social being. This fact was never so clear as now. I must be alone. - -“As regards the statements you have just made, indicating that you -attach the blame for the present predicament to yourself, these are, of -course, absurd. I'm sure you will come in time to see that. It will be -a question then whether you will be able to bring yourself to forgive -me for permitting matters to go so far as they have. That has been -my weakness. I allowed my admiration for you and my desire for you to -overcome my reason. - -“As for the course you must pursue, it will be, of course, to go on as -far as Ping Yang. There I will leave you. It may even prove possible, -despite the malignant enmity of Mrs. Boatwright, to convince M. Pourmont -and the others that we are guilty of nothing more than an error of -judgment in an extremely difficult situation. Certainly I shall demand -the utmost respect for you. - -“I shall make it a point to avoid you in the morning; and it will -undoubtedly be best that we refrain so far as possible from speech -during the remainder of our journey. I shall go on alone, as soon as you -are safe at Ping Yang. I can not forgive myself for thus disturbing your -life. - -“I can not trust myself to write further. It is my experience that words -are dangerous things and not to be trifled with. I will merely add, in -conclusion, and in wishing that you may at some later time find a mate -who can bring into your life the qualities which you must have in order -to attain happiness, and which I unquestionably lack, that I shall hope, -in time, for your forgiveness.. Without that I should hardly care to -live on. - -“Jonathan Brachey.” - -Soberly Betty read and reread this curious letter. Then for a moment -her eyes rested on the cool signature, without so much as a “sincerely -yours,” and then she looked at that first phrase, “My Dear, Dear Little -Girl”; and then her eyes grew misty and she smiled, faintly, tenderly. -Suddenly, this morning, life had changed color; the black mood was gone, -like an illness that had passed its climax. The curious antagonism in -their talk the evening before had, it seemed, cleared the air--at least -for her. And now, all at once--she was beginning to feel quietly but -glowingly exultant about it--nothing mattered. - -She ate all the breakfast that John brought; then hurried out. It gave -her pleasure to stand aside and watch the packing, and particularly to -watch Brachey as he moved sternly about. He was a strong man, as her -father had been strong. He hadn't a glimmer of humor, but she loved him -for that. He had all at once become so transparent. In his lonely way -he had expended so much energy fighting the illusions of happiness, that -now when real happiness was offered him he fought harder than ever. Her -thoughtful eyes followed his every motion; he was tall, strong, clean. - -His heart and mind, in their very austerity, were like a child's. - -So deep ran this sober new happiness, as she stood by the litter waiting -until he came--austerely--and helped her in (she was waiting for the -touch of his hand, averting her face to hide the smile that she couldn't -altogether control) that only a warmly up-rushing little thought of her -father that came just then could restore her poise. She cared now about -nothing else, about only this man whom she now knew she loved with her -whole being and the father she had so suddenly, shockingly lost. If -only, in the different ways, she might have brought happiness to each -of these strong men. If only she could have brought them together, her -father and her lover; for each, she felt, had fine deep qualities that -the other would be quick to perceive. - -All during the morning, feeling through every sensitive nerve-tip the -nearness of this man who loved her and whom she loved, she rode through -a land of rosy dreams. She felt again the power over life that she had -felt during their first talk at T'ainan. Love had come; it absorbed her -thoughts; it was right.... She exulted in the misty red hills with their -deep purple shadows. She smiled at the absurd camels with the rings in -their noses and the ragged, shaggy coats. - -After a time, as the morning wore along, she became aware that he, -too, was changing. Once, when he rode for a moment beside her Inter, he -caught sight of her quietly radiant face and flushed and turned away. -At lunch, by a roadside temple, under a tree, they talked about nothing -with surprising ease. He was eager that she should draw and paint these -beautiful hills of Hansi. - -Late in the afternoon--they were riding down an open valley--he appeared -again beside the litter. Impulsively she reached out her hand. He guided -his pony close; leaned over and gripped it warmly. For a little while -they rode thus; then, happening out of a confusion of impulses that, -with whichever it began, was instantly communicated to the other, he -bent down and she leaned out the little side door and their lips met. - -The cook, from his insecure seat on the pack-saddle, carolled his -endless musical narrative. John rode in stolid silence; the merely human -emotions were ages old and quite commonplace. Mr. Po merely glanced up -as he trudged along in the dust, taking the little incident calmly for -granted. - -So it was that, unaccountably to themselves, the spin of these two -lovers rebounded from acute depression to an exaltation that, however -sobered by circumstance, touched the skirts of ecstasy. They rode -on silently as on the other days> but now their hearts beat in happy -unison. No longer was the situation of their relationship unreal to -them; the unreality lay with the white world from which they had come -and to which they must shortly return. The mission compound was but -an immaterial memory, like an unpleasant moment in a long, beautiful -journey. - -In the evening after dinner, they sat for a long time with her head on -his shoulder dreamily talking of the mystery, their mystery, of love. - -“It had to be,” she said. - -He could only incline his head and compress his lips as he gazed out -over her head down a long vista of years, during which he would, for -better or worse, for richer or poorer, protect and cherish her. The old -phrases from the marriage service rang in his thoughts like cathedral -bells. - -“1 don't believe we'll ever have those dreadful moods again,” she -murmured, later. “At least, we won't misunderstand each other again. Not -like that.” - -“Never,” he breathed. - -“Only one thing is wrong, dear,” she added. “I wish father could have -known you. He'd have understood you. That's the only sad thing.” - -He was silent. At last, after midnight, in a spirit of deepest -consecration, he held her gently in his arms, kissed her good night, and -went to his own room. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII--APPARITION - - -1 - -MEANTIME, M. Pourmont, at Ping Yang, was calling in his white -assistants and sifting out the trustworthy among his native employees -in preparation for withstanding a siege. He had swiftly carried out his -plan of destroying the native huts that stood within a hundred yards -of his compound. Such lumber and bricks as were of any value he had -brought into the compound, using them to build two small redoubts at -opposite comers of the walled-in rectangle and to increase the number -of firing positions along the walls. From the redoubts the faces of the -four walls and all of the hillside were commanded by the two machine -guns. A wall of bricks and sand-bags was built up just within the -compound gate so that the gate could be opened without exposing the -interior to outside eyes or weapons. On all the roofs of the low stables -and storehouses that bordered the walls were parapets of sand-bags. - -These elaborate preparations were meant as much to impress and -intimidate the natives of the region as for actual defense. In the main, -and in so far as they could be understood, the natives seemed friendly. -Several thousand of the young men among them had been at various times -on M. Pourmont's pay-roll. The trade in food supplies, brick and other -necessary articles was locally profitable. And the shen magistrate was -keenly aware of the commercial and military strength represented by the -foreigners. - -There were--engineers, instrument men, stake-boys, supply agents, -clerks, timekeepers, foremen and others--fourteen Frenchmen, eight -Australians, three Belgians, six Englishmen, two Scotch engineers, -four Americans, two Russians. Three of the Chinese had served as -non-commissioned officers in the British Wei Hai Wei regiment in 1900. -There were a few native foremen who had been trained in the modern -Chinese army of Yuan Shi K'ai. The total force, including M. Pourmont -himself and his immediate office force, came to forty-six white and -about eighty able-bodied Chinese. These latter were now being put -through hours of military drill every day in conspicuous places about -the hillside. - -A number of men acted as intelligence runners, and the activity of -these, supplemented by occasional word from the yamen of the shen -magistrate, kept M. Pourmont informed of the march of events in the -province. Thus it could not have been twelve hours after Brachey bore -the news of Griggsby Doane's death to the mission at T'ainan-fu before -M. Pourmont as well knew of it, the word coming hy wire to the local -yamen and thence passing in whispers to the compound on the hill. - -Then, late one afternoon, Doane's pretty little daughter came in, -escorted by the American journalist, Jonathan Brachey, and a young -secretary from the yamen of the provincial judge disguised as a -muleteer. Brachey at once volunteered to help and was put in charge -of preparing two small lookout posts on the upper hill. He was -uncommunicative and dryly self-sufficient in manner, but proved a real -addition to the establishment, contributing the great Anglo-Saxon -quality of confidence and tone. Though M. Pour-mont would have preferred -a more sociable man. His was a lonely life. He loved talk--even in -broken English--for its own sake. He had, himself, vivacity and humor. -And it was a disappointment that this Brachey didn't know _Çhambertin_ -from _vin ordinaire_, and cared little for either. - -Little Miss Doane touched his heart, she was so pretty, so quick in -her bright graceful way, yet so white and sad. But always brave, as -if sustained by inner faith. She asked at once to be put to work, and -quickly adapted herself to the atmosphere of Mme. Pourmont's workroom -in the residence, where Madarhe's two daughters and the English trained -nurse were busy directing the Chinese sewing women.... It transpired -that the Mrs. Boatwright who was in charge at the mission had refused -to save herself and those in her charge, so the Mademoiselle had come -on independently. This, thought M. Pourmont, showed a courage and -enterprise suggestive of her father. - -2 - -That night M. Pourmont telegraphed Elmer Boatwright confirming the news -of Doane's death, and urging an immediate attempt to get through to Ping -Yang. - -On the preceding day he had sent a party of twelve men, white and -Chinese, in command of an Australian engineer, to Shau T'ing, on the -Eastern Border, to get the supplies that had been shipped down from -Peking. These men returned on the following day; and among the cases and -bales of supplies borne on the long train of carts they guarded were -the bodies of two dead Chinese and a Russian youth with a bullet in his -throat. - -News came then that a large force of Lookers had started in an easterly -direction from Hung Chan. And Boatwright wired that the mission party -was at last under way, seven whites and fifty natives. - -M. Pourmont at once sent a party of forty mounted men westward along the -highway, commanded by an Englishman named Swain. This small force fought -a pitched battle with the Looker band that had been evaded by Brachey, -suffering several casualties. A native was sent on ahead, riding all -night, with a note to Boatwright advising great haste. But it was -difficult for the mission party to travel with any speed, as it had been -found impossible to secure horses or carts for many of the Chinese -converts, and not one of the missionaries would consent to leave these -charges behind. It became necessary therefore for Swain to move a -half-day's march farther west than had been intended. He joined the -missionaries shortly after the advance guard of the Western Lookers had -begun an attack on the inn compound. Already six or seven of the -secondary Christians had been dragged out and shot or burned to death -when Swain led his white and yellow troopers in among them, shooting -right and left. There must have been several hundred of the Lookers; but -they amounted to little more than a disorganized mob, and as soon as -they found their comrades falling around them, screaming in agony and -fright, they threw away their rifles and fled. - -Swain at once ordered out the entire mission company, mounted as many -as possible of the frightened fugitives on the horses of his troop, -and with such extra carts as he could commandeer in the village for his -wounded, himself and his uninjured men on foot, he pushed rapidly hack -toward Ping Yang. The few Chinese who lagged were left in native houses. -The horses that fell were dragged off the road and shot. - -This man Swain, though he concerns us in this narrative only -incidentally, was one of a not unfamiliar type on the China coast. He -was hardly thirty years of age, a blond Briton, handsome, athletic, -evidently a man of some education and breeding. He had once spoken of -serving as a subaltern in the Boer War. A slightly elusive reputation as -a Shanghai gambler had floated after him to Ping Yang. He was at times -a hard drinker, as his lined face indicated, faint, purplish markings -already forming a fine network under the skin of his nose. His blue eyes -were always slightly bloodshot. He never spoke of his own people. And it -had been noted that after a few drinks he was fond of quoting Kipling's -_The Lost Legion_. Yet on this little expedition, unknown to the -archives of any war department, Swain proved himself a hero. He brought -all but twelve of the fifty-seven mission folk and eight of his own -wounded safely to Ping Yang, leaving three of his Chinese buried back -there. And himself sustained a bullet wound through the flesh of his -left forearm and a severe knife cut on the left hand.... The drift of -opinion among respectable people along Bubbling Well Road in Shanghai, -as here in Ping Yang, was that Swain would hardly do. Certain of these -mission folk, in particular Miss Hemphill, whose philosophy of life -could hardly be termed comprehensive, were later to find their mental -attitude toward their rescuer somewhat perplexing. - -3 - -Though she evidently tried to be quiet about it, Mrs. Boatwright's first -act was troublesome. She had been taken in, of course, with the other -white women, by the Pourmonts; in the big house. Here the principal -three of them--Dr. Cassin on her one hand and Miss Hemphill on the -other--were put down at the dinner table on that first evening directly -opposite Betty. Miss Hemphill flushed a little, bit her lip, then -inclined her head with what was clearly enough meant to be distant -courtesy. Dr. Cassin, already too deeply occupied with her wounded -to waste thought on merely personal matters, bowed coolly. But Mrs. -Boatwright stared firmly past the girl at the screen of carved wood that -stood behind her. - -Betty bent her head over her plate. She had of course dreaded this first -encounter; all of her courage had been called on to bring her into the -dining-room; but her own sense of personal loss and injury had lately -been so overshadowed by the growing tragedy in which they were dwelling -that she had forgotten with what complete cruelty and consistency this -woman's stern sense of character could function. She had lost, too, in -the mounting sober beauty of her love for Brachey, any lingering -sense of wrong-doing. Here at Ping Yang Brachey commanded, she knew -triumphantly, the respect of the little community. - -They were thinking, he and she, only at moments of themselves. Indeed, -days passed without a stolen half-hour together. She gloried in her -knowledge that he would neglect no smallest duty to indulge his emotions -in companionship with her; nor would she neglect duty for him........And -the people here were all so kind to her, so friendly! The presence of -this grim personally was an intrusion. - -After dinner Mrs. Boatwright went directly to M. Pourmont in his study -and told him that it would be necessary for her to sleep and eat in -another building. She would give no reasons, nor would she in any -pleasant way soften her demand. Accordingly, the Pourmonts, always -courteous, always cheerful, made at once a new arrangement in the -crowded compound. Some of the Australian young men were turned out into -a tent; and the Boatwrights, accompanied by their assistants, were -settled by midnight in the smaller building immediately adjoining the -residence. Mr. Boatwright protested a little to his wife, but was -silenced. All he could do was to make some extreme effort to treat the -Pourmonts with courtesy. - -And so Betty, when in the morning she again mustered her courage to -enter the dining-room, found them gone. And instantly she knew why... . -She couldn't eat. All day forlorn, her mind a cavern of shadows, she put -herself in the way of meeting Brachey, but did not find him until late -in the afternoon. He was coming in then from the outworks up the hill. -She stood waiting just within the gate. - -They had been thinking constantly, since the one misunderstanding, of -the cablegram that would announce his freedom. In his eagerness he had -expected to find it waiting at Ping Yang. Day after day native runners -got through to the telegraph station and brought messages for -others... To Betty now it seemed the one thing that could arm her -against the stern judgment in Mrs. Boatwright's eyes. - -Brachey's knickerbockers and stockings were red with mud. He wore a -canvas shooting coat of M. Pourmont. He was lean, strong, quick of -tread. - -They drew aside, into a corner of the wall of sandbags. She saw the -momentary light in his tired eyes when they rested on her; gravely -beautiful eyes she thought them. Her fingers caught his sleeve; her eyes -timidly searched his face, and read an answer there to the question in -her heart. - -“You haven't heard?” - -He slowly shook his head. “No, dear, not yet.” - -Her gaze wavered away from him “It's got to come,” he added. “It isn't -as if there weren't a positive understanding.” - -“I know,” she murmured, but without conviction. “Of course. It's got to -come.” - -They were silent a moment. - -“I--I'll go back to the house,” she breathed, then. “Keep strong, dear,” - said he very gently. - -“I know. I will. It's helped, just seeing you.” - -Then she was gone. - -As he looked after her, his heart full of a gloomy beauty, he longed to -call her back and in some way restore her confidence. But the appearance -of the mission folk had shaken him, as well, this day. The mere presence -of Mrs. Boatwright in the compound was suddenly again a living force. Up -there on the hillside, driving his native workmen through the long hot -hours, he had faced unnerving thoughts. For Mrs. Boatwright had brought -him out of the glamour of his love; she, that sense of her, if merely -by stirring his mind to resentment and resistance, restored for the time -his keen logical faculty. He saw again clearly the mission compound at -T'ainan-fu. And he saw Griggsby Doane--huge, strong, the face that might -so easily be tender, working with passion in the softly flickering light -from a Chinese lamp. - -He had given Griggsby Doane a pledge as solemn as one man can give -another. He had, because Doane was so suddenly dead, broken that pledge. -But now he knew, coldly, clearly, that of material proof that Doane was -dead neither he nor M. Pourmont nor these difficult folk from T'ainan -held a shred. - -4 - -Early on the following morning--at about three o'clock--a small shell -exploded in the compound. Within five minutes two others fell outside -the walls. - -At once the open spaces within the walls were filled with Chinese, none -fully dressed, talking, shouting, wailing. Among them, a moment later, -moved white men, cartridge pouches and revolvers hastily slung on, -rifles in hand, quietly ordering them back to their quarters and -themselves taking positions along the walls. The crews of the two -machine guns promptly joined the sentries in the redoubts. M. Pourmont -went about calmly, pleasantly, supervising the final preparations. -Two small parties, one led by Swain, the other by Brachey, went up -the hillside to the men in the rifle pits there. A few trusted natives -slipped out on scouting expeditions. - -As the first faint color appeared in the eastern sky, and the darkness -slowly gave way through the morning twilight to the young day, the walls -were lined with anxious faces. Strained eyes peered up and down the -hillside for the first glimpse of the enemy. Surmises and conjectures -flew from lip to lip--the attackers were thousands strong; American, -French and English troops were already on the way down from Peking; -no troops could be spared; such a relieving party had already been -intercepted and driven back as McCalla had been driven back in 1900; the -Shau T'ing bridge was down, the telegraph lines were broken, old Kang -had beheaded Pao and seized the entire provincial government, was, -indeed, in personal command here at Ping Yang. So the rumors ran. - -Daylight spread slowly over the hillside. Far up among the native houses -and down near the village groups of strange figures could be seen moving -about. They wore a uniform much like that the Boxers had worn, except -that coat and trousers were alike red and only the turban yellow. At -intervals shells fell here and there about the walls. - -Back in his study in the residence M. Pourmont, by breakfast time, had -reports from several of his scouts and was able to sift the rumors -down to a basis of fact. Several thousand Lookers were already in the -neighborhood and others were on the way. The Shau T'ing bridge was gone, -and it was true that the local shen magistrate had been cut off from -telegraphic communication with the outside world. And Kang was at the -moment establishing headquarters five _li_ to the westward. - -The entrenched parties up the hillside lay unseen and unheard in their -trenches, awaiting the signal to fire. The compound was still now. -Breakfast was carried about to the men on duty. - -Toward nine o'clock considerable activity was noted up the hill, beyond -the outposts. Several squads of the red and yellow figures appeared -in the open apparently digging out a level emplacement on the steep -hillside. Then a small field gun was dragged into view from behind a -native compound wall and set in position. The distance was hardly more -than two hundred yards; they meant to fire point-blank. - -M. Pourmont went out to the upper redoubt and studied the scene through -field-glasses. The men begged permission to fire, but the bearded French -engineer ordered them to wait. - -The little red and yellow men were a long time at their preparations. -They moved about as if confident that no white man's eyes could discern -them. Finally they gathered back of the gun. There was some further -delay. Then the gun was fired, and a shell whirred over the compound -and on across the valley, exploding against the opposite hillside, near a -temple, in a cloud of smoke and red dust. - -There was still another wait. Then a shell carried away part of a -chimney of the residence. The sound of distant cheers floated down-hill -on the soft breeze. The little men clustered about the gun. - -M. Puurmont lowered his glasses and nodded. The machine gun opened fire, -spraying its stream of bullets directly on the crowded figures. - -To the men standing and kneeling in the redoubt the scene, despite the -rattle of the gun and the wisps of smoke curling about them and the -choking smell, was one of impersonal calm. The Australian working the -gun was quietly methodical about it. The crowded figures up the hill -seemed to sit or lie down deliberately enough. Others appeared to be -moving away slowly toward the houses, though when M. Pourmont gave them -a look through his glasses it became evident that their legs were -moving rapidly. Soon all who could get away were gone, leaving several -heaped-up mounds of red near the gun and smaller dots of red scattered -along the path of the retreat. With a few scattering shots the -Australian sat back on his heels and glanced up at M. Pourmont. “Heats -up pretty fast,” he remarked casually, indicating the machine gun. - -5 - -A shout, sounded up the hill. All turned. Swain had mounted to the -parapet of his rifle pit and was waving his rifle. His half dozen men, -white and Chinese, followed, all shouting now. Over to the right, from -the other pit, the lean figure of Jonathan Brachey appeared, followed by -others. Then they started up the hillside. Like the retreating Lookers -they seemed to move very slowly; but the glasses made it clear that they -were running and scrambling feverishly up the slope, fourteen of them, -pausing only at intervals to fire toward the houses, where a few puffs -of white smoke appeared. - -They reached the Chinese sun, turned it around and, five or six of them, -began running it down-hill. The others lingered, clustering together. -A shot from one of the red heaps was met by a blow of a clubbed rifle; -that was seen by the Australian through the glasses. There were more -shots from the compound walls beyond. - -The Australian quietly returned the glasses to his chief, sighted along -his machine gun, and sprayed bullets along those walls, first to the -left of the raiding party, then, very carefully, to the right. - -M. Pourmont descended to the compound and ordered a party of coolies -out with wheelbarrows. These began mounting the slope, obediently, -painfully. The raiders dropped behind the little heaps of dead and -waited. To the many watching eyes along the wall it seemed as if those -deliberate coolies would never end their climb; inch by inch they seemed -to move. Even the more rapidly moving gun, descending the slope, seemed -to crawl. When it did at length draw near, the eager observers noted -that the men handling it were all Chinese; the whites had stayed up -there. Swain was there, and Brachey, and the others. - -Betty witnessed the scene from an upper window of the residence with -Mme. Pourmont and her daughters. She heard the rat-tat-tat of the -machine gun; through a pair of glasses she saw the red-clad Lookers -fall, all without clearly realizing that this was battle and death. It -seemed a calm enough picture. But when Brachey started up the hill her -heart stopped. - -More and more slowly, as the climb told on the porters, the barrows -moved up the slope; but at last they reached their destination. Then -all worked like ants about them. Within ten minutes all were back in the -compound creaking and squealing, each on its high center wheel, under -the loads of shells. - -Betty watched Brachey through the glasses. Naively she assumed that he -would return to her after passing through such danger. And when she saw -him drop casually into the little pit on the hillside it seemed to her -that she couldn't wait out the day. Now that she had watched him leading -his men straight into mortal danger--had so nearly, in her own heart, -lost him--she began to sense the terrible power of love. All that had -gone before in this strange relationship of theirs seemed like the play -of children beside her present sense of him as her other self. Indeed -the danger seemed now to be--she thought of it, in lucid moments, as a -danger--that she should cease to care about outside opinion. Her heart -throbbed with pride in him. - -At dusk the outposts were relieved. When Brachey entered the gate, Betty -was there, waiting, a tremulous smile hovering about her tender little -mouth and about her misty eyes. - -He paused, in surprise and pleasure. She gave him a hand, hesitantly, -then the other; then, impulsively, her arms went around his neck.... His -men straggled wearily past, their day's work done. Not one looked back. -She was almost sorry, for that and for the dusk. Arm in arm they entered -the compound and walked to the steps of the residence. - -That night, three shells struck within the compound. One wrecked a -corner of Mme. Pourmont's kitchen. Another carried away a section of -galvanized iron roof and killed a horse. The third destroyed a tent, -killing a Chinese woman and wounding a man and two girls. Thus, before -morning, Dr. Cassam and her helpers were at the grim business of patching -and restoring the piteous debris of war. - -By daylight the red and yellow' lines were closed about the compound. -Shells roared by at intervals all day, and bullets rattled against -the walls. The upper windows of the residence were barricaded now with -sand-bags. Five more were wounded during the day, two of them white. -Enemy trenches appeared, above and below the compound. During the -following night M. Pourmont set a considerable force of men at work -running a sap out to the rifle pits, and digging in other outposts on -the lower slope. His night runners moved with difficulty, but brought -in reports of feasts and orgies at Kang's headquarters down the valley, -where, surrounded by his full retinue, the old Manchu was preparing to -revel in slaughter. As the days passed, the sense of danger grew deeper; -the faces one saw about the compound wore a dogged expression. An armed -guard stood over the storehouses, men were killed and wounded, and women -and children. They talked, heavily where the casual was intended, -of settling down to a siege. They spoke of other, larger sieges; of -Mafeking and Ladysmith of recent memory. But no one, now, mentioned -the prospects of early relief. One night Mr. Po went out with a Chinese -soldier on a scouting trip; and neither returned. On the following -night, one of the Wei Hai Wei men was sent. At daybreak they found his -head, wrapped in a cloth, just inside the gate. The enemy had crept -close enough, despite the outposts, to toss it over the wall... After -this, for a time, no word went out or came in. - -6 - -Elmer Boatwright slept alone in a small room; his wife, Miss Hemphill -and Dr. Cassin occupied a large room in the same building. One night, -tossing on his cot, the prey of nightmares, Boatwright started up, cold -with sweat, and sat shivering in the dark room. Outside sounded the -pop--pop, pop--of the snipers. But there was another sound that had -crashed in among the familiar noises of his dreams. - -It came again--a light tapping at his door. He tried to get his breath; -then tried to call out, “Who is it?” But his voice came only in a -whisper. - -It wasn't his wife; she wouldn't have knocked. He had not before been -disturbed at night; it would mean something serious, nothing good. It -could mean nothing good. - -Elmer Boatwright was by no means a simple coward. He rose, shivering -with this strange sense of cold; struck a light; and candle in hand -advanced to the door. Here, for a moment he waited. - -Again the tapping sounded. - -He opened the door; and beheld, dimly outlined in the shadowy hall, clad -in rags, face seamed and haggard, eyes staring out of deep hollows, the -gigantic frame of Griggsby Doane, leaning on his old walking stick. He -was hatless, and his hair was matted. A stubble of beard covered the -lower half of his face. His left shoulder, under the torn coat, was -bandaged with the caked, bloodstained remnant of his shirt. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII--THE DARK - -1 - -Elmer Boatwrights chin sagged a little way. For a long moment he stood -motionless, making no sound; then, without change of expression on his -gray thin face, he moved with a slow gliding motion backward, backward, -until his knees struck the bed; and stood, bent forward, his palsied -hand tipping the candle so far that the hot tallow splashed in white -drops on the matting. - -Slowly the giant figure stirred, straightened up, came slowly into the -room; closed the door, leaned back against it. - -Then Boatwright spoke, slowly, huskily: - -“It--it is you?” - -“Yes.” It was plainly an effort for Doane to speak. “But--but I don't -see how you could have got through.” - -“Men do get through now and then.” Doane spoke with the quick -irritability of the man whose powers of nervous resistance have been -tried to the uttermost. - -“You're wounded. You must be tired.” Boatwright was quite incoherent. -“You'd better lie down. Here--take my bed! How did you ever find me? How -did you get in in the first place?” - -“I'll sit for a moment.” Duane lowered himself painfully to the bed. -“Betty is here?” - -“Betty? Oh, yes! We're all safe.” - -“Where is she?” - -“I--I don't know exactly.” - -“You don't _know!_” - -“Why, Madame Pourmont has been caring for her.” - -“You mean that she is ill?” - -“No. Oh, no! One moment. You've been hurt. I must tell the others. You -must have attention at once. Mary Cassin is right here--and my wife.” - The little man moved to the door. His color was returning now; he was -talking rapidly, out of a confused mind. “You must have had a terrible -time.” - -“They left me for dead at the Hung Chan Gate. I crawled to the house of -a convert.” Doane's great eyes, staring out of shadowy hollows, burned -with tragic memories. Those eyes held Boatwright fascinated; he shivered -slightly. “As soon as I felt able to travel I started toward T'ainan. -Several of our native people came with me, walking at night, biding by -day. On the way we learned that you had left. So I came here. I must see -Betty.” - -“But not like this,” the little man blurted out. Doane's eyes wandered -down over his muddy tattered clothing. - -“I'll call the others first,” said Boatwright He set down his candle on -the wash-stand, just inside the door, and slipped out. - -Doane sat erect, without moving. His eyes stared at the candle and at -the grotesque wavering shadows of the wash-howl and pitcher on the wall. -At each small night sound he started nervously--the scratching of a -mouse, a voice in the compound, a distant sputter of shots. - -Boatwright slipped back into the room. - -“They're coming,” he said breathlessly. “In a minute. Mary sleeps in -most of her clothes anyway, these days.” - -“What is it about Betty?” Doane asked sharply. - -“Oh--she's quite all right. We don't see much of her, not being in the -same house. We're all pretty busy here, these days. It's an ugly time. -I--I was just wondering. I don't know what we can dress you in. You -could hardly wear my things. One of the Australians is nearly as big as -you. Perhaps in the morning...” - -His voice had risen a little, nearly to the querulous, as he hurriedly -drew on his outer clothing. From the way his eyes wandered about the -room it appeared that his thoughts had run far afield. And he was clumsy -about the buttons. Even the intensely preoccupied Doane became aware of -this, and for a moment studied him with a puzzled look. - -The little man's tongue ran on. “Mary'll fix you up for now. Sleep'll -be the best thing. In the morning you can use my shaving things. And I'll -look up that Australian.... There they are!” - -He hurried to the door. Dr. Cassin came in, greeted - -Griggsby Doane with a warm hand-clasp, and at once examined his -shoulder. Boatwright she sent over to the dispensary for bandages. - -A moment later Mrs. Boatwright appeared, her strong person wrapped in a -quilted robe. - -“This is a great relief,” she said. “We had given you up.” - -Duane's eyes fastened eagerly on this woman. - -“Have you sent word to Betty?” he asked quickly. - -Mrs. Boatwright looked at him for a moment, without replying, then moved -deliberately to the window. - -“Please don't move,” cautioned Dr. Cassin, who was working on his -shoulder. - -“Have you sent word?” Doane shot the question after Mrs. Boatwright. - -There was no reply. - -“What is it?” cried Doane then. - -“If you please!” said Dr. Cassin. - -“Something is wrong! What is it?” - -Mrs. Boatwright was standing squarely before the window now, looking out -into the dark courtyard. - -“What is it? Tell me! Is she here?” - -“Really, Mr Doane”--thus the physician--“I can not work if you move. -Yes, she is here.” - -“But why do you act in this strange way?” - -Dr. Cassin compressed her lips. All her working adult life had been -spent under the direction of this man. Never before had she seen him in -the slightest degree beaten down. She had never even seen him tired. In -her steady, objective mind he stood for unshakable, enduring strength. -But now, twitching nervously under her firm hands, staring out of -feverish eyes after the uncompromising woman by the window, his huge -frame emaciated, spent with loss of blood, with suffering and utter -physical and nervous exhaustion, he had reached, she knew', at last, the -limits of his great strength. He had, perhaps, even passed those limits; -for there was a morbid condition evident in him, he seemed not wholly -sane, as if the trials he had passed through had been too great for his -iron will, or as if there was something else, some consuming fire in -him, burning secretly but strongly, out of control. All this she saw and -felt. His temperature was not dangerously high, slightly more than two -degrees above normal. His pulse was rapid, but no weaker than was to be -expected. Worry might explain it; worry for them all, but particularly -for Betty. Though she found this diagnosis not wholly satisfactory. Of -course it might be, after all, nothing more than exhaustion. Sleep was -the first thing. After that it would be a simpler matter to study his -case. - -Then, starling up suddenly, wrenching himself free from her skilful -hands, Doane stood over her, staring past her at the woman by the -window'. - -“Will you please go to Betty,” he said, in a voice that trembled with -feeling, “and tell her that I am here. Wake her. She must know at once. -And try to prepare her mind--she mustn't see me first like this.” - -There was a breathless pause. Then Mrs. Boatwright turned and moved -deliberately toward the door. Then she paused. - -“You'll see her?” cried the father. “At once?” - -“No,” replied Mrs. Boatwright. “No. I am sorry. I would like to spare -you pain at this time, Griggsby Doane. But I do not feel that I can see -her. I'll tell you though, what I will do. I'll tell Monsieur Pourmont.” - And she went out. - -2 - -She was closing the door when it abruptly opened. Elmer Boatwright -stood there, looking after his wife as she went along the dark hallway. -He came in then. - -“I brought the bandages,” he said. - -“You must sit down again,” said the physician. - -Doane, evidently bewildered, obeyed. And she began bandaging his -shoulder. - -He even sat quietly. He seemed to be making a determined effort to -control his thoughts. When he finally spoke he seemed almost his old -self. - -“Elmer, something is wrong with Betty. Whatever it is, I have a right to -know.” - -Boatwright cleared his throat. - -Dr. Cassin broke the silence that followed. - -“Mr. Doane,” she said, “sit still here and try to listen to what I am -going to tell you. We have been disturbed about Betty. I won't attempt -to conceal that. This Mr. Brachey--” - -“Brachey? Is he--” - -“Please! You must keep quiet!” - -“But what is it? Tell me--now!” - -“I'm trying to. Mr. Brachey came to the compound the morning after you -left--” - -“But he gave me his word!” - -“You really must let me tell this in my own way. He brought the news of -your death. He had it from Pao's yamen. He demanded that we all leave -T'ainan at once, with him. If he gave you his word, it is probable that -he regarded your death as a release. Well....” For a moment she bent -silently over her task of bandaging. - -“Yes. Tell me?” Doane's voice was quieter still. More and more, to -Boatwright, who stood by the wash-stand lingering a towel, he looked, -felt, like the old Griggsby Doane... except his eyes; they were fixed -intently on the matting; they were wide open, staring open. - -“Well... Mrs. Boatwright felt that it was not yet the time to go. She -distrusted this man. So we stayed a few days longer.” - -“You are not telling me.” - -“Yes. I am coming to it. Betty... Betty felt that she couldn't let him -go alone.” - -In a hushed, almost a reflective voice Doane asked: “So she came with -him?” - -Dr. Cassin bowed. Elmer Boatwright bowed. Doane glanced up briefly, and -took them in; then his gaze centered again on the matting. - -“And they are here now?” - -“Betty is staying with Madame Pourmont. Mr. Brachey is living in a -tent.” - -“Where? What tent?” - -Elmer Boatwright did not wait to hear this question answered, or the -rush of other palliative phrases that were pressing nervously on the tip -of Dr Cas-sin's not unsympathetic tongue. Never had he heard the quiet -menace in Griggsby Doane's voice that was in it as he almost calmly -uttered those three words, “Where? What tent?” He could nut himself -think clearly; his mind was a blur of fears and nervous impulses. Doane -wasn't normal; that was plain. Dr. Cassin's bare announcement was a blow -so severe that even as he framed that tense question he was struggling -to control the blind wild forces that were ravaging that giant frame -of his. Once wholly out of control, he might do anything. He might kill -Brachey. Yes, easily that! It was in his eyes.... And so, without a -plan, all confused impulses, Elmer Boatwright slipped out, closing the -door behind him. On the outer sill of the little building he paused, -trying desperately to think; but, failing in this effort, harried -through the night to Brachey's tent. - -He was, of course, far from understanding himself. It was a moment in -which no small dogmatic mind, once touched by the illogic of merely -human sympathy, could hope to understand itself. Though he and Brachey -were barely speaking, he had watched the man during the capture of the -Chinese gun and ammunition. And since that incident he had observed that -Brachey was steadily winning the respect of all in the compound. The -confusing thought was that a sinner could do that. For he believed, -with his wife, and Miss Hemphill, that Brachey and Betty had sinned. Dr. -Cassin had been more guarded in her judgment but probably she believed -it, too. Sin, of course, to what may without unpleasant connotation -be termed the professionally religious mind, is a definite, really a -technical fact. In the faith of the Boatwrights it could be atoned only -by an inner conviction followed by the blessing of the Holy Spirit. No -mere good conduct, no merely admirable human qualities, could save the -sinner. And neither Betty nor Brachey had shown the slightest sign of -the regenerative process. In Mrs. Boatwright's judgment, therefore, -since she was a woman of utter humorless logic, of unconquerable faith -in conscience, the two stood condemned. But her husband, in this time of -tragic stress, was discovering certain merely human qualities that were -bound to prove disconcerting to his professed philosophy. He wanted, -now, to help Brachey; and yet, as he ran through courtyard after -courtyard, he couldn't wholly subdue certain strong misgivings as to -what his wife might think if she knew. - -3 - -Before the tent he hesitated. The flap was tied; he shook it, with a -trembling hand. He heard, then, the steady breathing of the man within. -He tried knocking on the pole, through the canvas, but without effect on -the sleeper. Then, with a curious sensation of guilt, he reached in and -untied the flap, above, then below; and passed cautiously in. The night -was warm. Brachey lay uncovered, dressed, as Boatwright saw when he -struck a match to make certain of his man, in all but coat, collar and -shoes. - -Boatwright blew out the match. For another moment he stood wondering at -himself; then laid a hand on the sleeper's shoulder. Brachey started up -instantly; swung his feet to the floor; said in a surprisingly alert, -cautious voice: - -“What is it?” - -“It's Elmer Boatwright.” - -“Oh!” was Brachey's reply to this. He quietly lighted the candle that -stood on a small table by the head of his cut. Then he added the single -word, “Well?” - -“I have come on a peculiar errand, Mr. Brachey...” Boatwright was -fumbling for words. - -“Yes?” - -“There is little time for talk. A queer situation... let me say -this--when you came to the mission and asked us to leave T'ainan with -you it was under the supposition that Griggsby Doane was dead.” - -“Yes.... You mean that now... that the news was inaccurate?” - -Boatwright inclined his head. - -“He is alive, then?” - -Another bow. - -“Where is he?” - -“Well... it is... I must ask you to consider the situation calmly. It is -difficult.” - -Boatwright felt the man's eyes on him, coolly surveying him. It did seem -a bit absurd to be cautioning this strange being to be calm. Had he ever -been otherwise? Here he was, roused abruptly from slumber, listening, -and looking, like a judge. He said now with quick understanding: - -“He is here?” - -Boatwright's head inclined. - -“How did he ever get through?” - -“We haven't heard the details yet. There's so much else.... I want to -make it plain to you that he isn't altogether himself. He has evidently -been through a terrible experience. He was wounded. He has some fever -now, I believe.... Let me put it this way. He has just now learned that -you are here---that you--” - -“That I brought his daughter here?” The remark was cool, clear, -decisive. - -“Well--yes. Now please understand me. He isn't himself. The news shocked -him. I could see that. My suggestion is--well, that you move over to the -residence for the rest of the night.” - -“Why?” - -“You see--Mr. Doane asked where you might be found, in what tent. He has -had no time to reflect over the situation. His present mood is--well, -as I said, not normal. I've thought that to-morrow--after he has -slept--some--we can prevail on him to consider it calmly.” - -“You mean that he may attack me?” - -“Well--yes. It's quite possible. Monsieur Pour-mont would take you in -now. I'm sure. In the morning you'll be back in your trenches. That will -give us time to...” - -His voice died out. His gaze anxiously followed Brachey's movements. -The man had buttoned on his collar, and was knotting his tie before the -little square mirror that hung on the rear tent-pole. Next he brushed -his hair. Then he got into his coat. And then he discovered that he was -in his stocking feet. That bit of absent-mindedness was the only sign he -gave of excitement. - -“If I might suggest that you hurry a little,” thus Boatwright... “it's -possible that he's on his way here now.” - -“Who?” asked Brachey coolly, raising his head. “Oh--you mean Doane.” - -“Yes. I really think--” - -Brachey waved him to be still. He moved to the tent opening, peered out -into the night, then turned and looked straight at his caller, slightly -pursing his lips. - -“Where is Mr. Doane?” he asked. - -“He was in my room. But you're not--you don't mean--” - -“I'm going to see him, of course.” - -“But that's impossible. He may kill you.” - -“What has that to do with it?” - -This blunt question proved difficult to meet. Boatwright found himself -saying, rather weakly, “I'm sure everything can be explained later.” - -“The time to explain is now.” - -With this, and a slight added sound that might have been an indication -of impatience, Brachey strode out. - -4 - -For a moment Boatwright stood in the paralysis of fright; then, -catching his breath, he ran out after this strangely resolute man; -quickly caught up with him, but found himself ignored. He even -talked--incoherently--as his short legs tried to keep pace with the -swift long stride of the other. He didn't himself know what he was -saying. Nor did he stop when Brachey's arm moved as if to brush him off; -though he perhaps had been clinging to that arm. - -Brachey stopped, looking about. - -“This is the house, isn't it?” he remarked; then turned in toward the -steps. - -The door burst open then, and a huge shadowy figure plunged out. A -woman's voice followed: “I must ask you to please come back, Mr. Doane. -Really, if you--” - -At the name--“Mr. Doane”--Brachey stopped short (one foot was already on -the first of the three or four steps) and stiffened, his shoulders drawn -back, his head high, Doane, too, stopped, peering down. - -“Mr. Doane,” said the younger man, firmly but perhaps in a slightly -louder tone than was necessary, “I am Jonathan Brachey.” - -A hush fell on the group of them--Brachey waiting at the bottom step, -Boatwright just behind him. Dr. Cassin barely visible in the shadows of -the porch, silhouetted faintly against the light of a candle somewhere -within, and Griggsby Doane staring down in astonishment at the man who -stood looking straight up at him. - -Brachey apparently was about to speak again. Perhaps he did begin. -Boatwright found it impossible afterward to explain in precise detail -just what took place. But the one clear fact was that Doane, with an -exclamation that was not a word, seemed to leap down the steps, waving -his stick about his head. There was the sound of a few heavy blows; and -then Brachey lay huddled in a heap on the the walk, and Doane stood over -him, breathing very hard.. - -Dr. Cassin hurried down the steps and knelt lie-side the silent figure -there. To Elmer Boatwright she said, briskly: “My medicine case is in -your room. Bring it at once, please? And bring water.” - -Boatwright vaguely recalled, afterward, that he muttered, “I beg your -pardon,” as he finished past Doane and ran up the steps. And he heard -the sound of some, one running heavily toward them. - -When he came out the scene was curiously changed. - -Some of the natives were there, and one or two whites. An iron lantern -with many perforations to let out the candle-light stood on the tiles. -One of the Chinese held another. Dr. Cassin was seated on the ground -examining a wound on Brachey's scalp; and the man himself was struggling -back toward consciousness, moving his arms restlessly, and muttering. - -But the voice that dominated the little group that stood awkwardly about -was the voice of M. Pourmont. - -Doane had sunk down on the steps, his head in his hands. And over him, -somewhat out of breath, gesturing emphatically with raised forefinger, -the engineer was speaking as follows: - -“Monsieur Doane, it gives me ze great plaisir to know zat you do not -die. To you here I offair ze vel-come viz all my 'eart. But zis I mus' -say. It is here _la guerre_. It is I who am here ze commandair. An' -I now' comman' you, Alonsieur Doane, zer mus' be here no more of ze -mattair personel. We here fight togezzer, as one, not viz each ozzer. -You have made ze attack on a gentleman zat mus' be spare' to us, a -gentleman ver' strong, ver' brave, who fear nozzing at all. It is not -pairmit' zat you make 'arm at Monsieur Brashayee. Zis man is one I need. -It is on 'im zat I lean.” - -Here Boatwright found himself breaking in, all eagerness, all nerves: - -“If you had only known how it was! Mr. Brachey insisted on coming -straight to you.” - -“Monsieur Boatright, if you please! I mus' have here ze quiet! Monsieur -Doane, you vill go at once to bed. It is so I order you. Go at once to -bed!” Doane slowly lifted his head and looked at M. Pour-munt. “Very -well,” he said quietly. “You are right, of course.” On these last few -words his voice broke, but he at once recovered control of it. He rose, -with an effort, moved a few slow steps, hesitated, then got painfully -down on one knee beside the limp groaning figure on the walk. He looked -directly at Dr. Cassin, as he said: - -“Is he badly hurt?” - -“I don't think so,” replied the physician simply, wholly herself. “The -skull doesn't seem to be fractured. We may find some concussion, of -course.” Doane's breath whistled convulsively inward. He knelt there, -silent, watching the deft fingers work. Then he said--under his breath, -but audibly enough: “What an awful thing to do! What a terrible thing to -do!” And got up. - -Boatwright hurried to help him. - -“I'll go with you, Elmer,” said Doane. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX--LIVING THROUGH - - -1 - -WHEN Griggsby Doane moved, pain shot through his lame muscle. A vaguely -heavy anxiety clouded his brain, engaged as it still was with the -specters of confusedly ugly dreams. - -The speckled area overhead was gradually coming clear; it appeared to -be a plastered ceiling, very small; a little cell of a place... oh, yes, -Elmer Boatwright's room! - -Faintly through the open window at the foot of the bed came the sound -of a distant, shot; another; a rattle of them. And other, nearer shots. -Then a slow whistling shriek and a crash. Then the rattle of a machine -gun, quite clear. Then a lull. - -He sensed a presence; felt rather than heard low breathing; with an -effort that was as much of the will as of the body he turned his head. - -Betty was sitting there, close by the bed, gently smiling. Almost -painfully his slow eyes took her in. She bent over and kissed him, then -her little hand nestled in his big one. They talked a little; he in a -natural enough manner, if very grave, spoke of his joy in finding her -safe. But as he spoke his mind, not yet wholly awake, took on a morbid -activity. Did she know what he had done in the night? Had they told her? -Anxiously, as she answered him, he searched her delicately pretty face. -How young she was! Dwelling amid tragedy, in a degree sobered by it, the -buoyancy of youth glowed in her brown eyes, in the texture of her skin, -in the waving masses of fine hair, in the soft vividness of her -voice; the touch of tragedy would, after all, rest lightly on her slim -shoulders. To her the world was young; of the bitter _impasse_ of middle -age she knew no hint. Men loved her, of course. Men had died for less -than she.... He pondered, swiftly, gloormly, the problem her very -existence presented. And he looked on her and spoke with a finer -tenderness than any he had before felt toward any living creature, even -toward the wife who had left her soul on earth in the breast of this -girl. - -He decided that they hadn't told her. After all, they wouldn't. They -were, when all was said, adult folk. He couldn't himself tell her. But -his predicament was pitiful. He knew now, from the honest love in her -eyes, that not the least black of his sins had been the doubting her. -Never again could he do that. But this realization brought him to the -verge of an attitude toward Jonathan Braehey that it was impossible for -him to entertain; the mere thought of that man roused emotions that -he could not control. But emotions, all sorts, must be controlled, of -course; on no other understanding can life be lived. If direct effort of -will is insufficient, then counter-activity must be set up. - -Betty protested when he told her he meant to get up at once. But it was -afternoon. He assured her that his wound was not serious; Dr. Cassin had -admitted that, and he had slept deeply. H is muscles were lame; but that -was an added reason for exercise. - -They had brought in some of the clothing of the large Australian. As he -pieced out a costume, he shaped a policy He couldn't, at once, fit into -the life of the compound. He couldn't face Brachey. Not yet. The only -hope of getting through these days of his passion lay in keeping himself -desperately active. He weighed a number of plans, finally discarding all -but one. Then he rang for a servant; and sent, while he ate a solitary -breakfast, a chit to M. Pourmont. - -2 - -The engineer received him at three. Neither spoke of the incident that -had brought them together in the night. To Doane, indeed, it was now, in -broad daylight and during most of the time, but a nightmare, unreal and -impossible. During the moments when it did come real, he could only set -his strong face and wait out the turbulence and bewilderment it stirred -in him. - -M. Pourmont found him very nearly himself; which was good. He seemed, -despite the bandaged shoulder and the thinner face, the Griggsby Doane -of old. But his proposal---he was grimly bent on it--was nothing less -than to make the effort, that night, to get through to the telegraph -station at Shau T'ing. - -M. Fourmunt took the position that the thing couldn't be done. After -losing two natives in the attempt, he had decided to conserve his -meager manpower and fall back on the certain fact that the legations -knew of the siege and were doubtless moving toward action of some sort. -Besides, he added, Duane with his courage and his extensive knowledge -of the local situation was the man above all others he could least well -spare. - -Doane, however, pressed his point. “Getting through the lines will be -difficult, but not impossible,” he said. “Remember I did get through -last night. I believe I can do it again to-night. Even if I should be -captured they may hesitate to kill me. I would ask nothing better than -to be taken before Kang. He would have to listen to me, I think. And if -I do succeed in establishing communication with Peking I may be able to -stir them to action. The Imperial Government can hardly admit that -they are backing Kang. It may even be possible to force them, through -diplomatic pressure alone, to repudiate him and use their own troops to -overthrow him. But first Peking must have the facts.” - -M. Pourmont smiled. - -“If you vill step wiz me,” he said, and led the way down a corridor -to his spacious dining-room. There on the table, stood a large basket -heaped with apples and pears. “Vat you t'ink, Monsieur Doane! But -yesterday comes _un drapeau bianc_ to ze gate viz a let-tair from zis -ol' Kang. He regret vair' much zat ve suffair _ici ze derangement_, an' -he hope zat vair' soon ve are again _confortable_. In Heaven, perhaps he -mean! _Chose donnante!_ An' he sen' _des fruits_ viz ze _compliments -of Son Excellence_ Kang Hsu to Monsieur Pourmont. _Et je vous demande, -qu'est-ce que cela fait?_” - -Doane considered this puzzle; finally shook his head over it. It was -very Chinese. Kang doubtless believed that through it he was deluding -the stupid foreigners and escaping responsibility for his savage course. - -Finally Doane won M. Pourmont's approval for his forlorn sally. He was, -in a wild way, glad. - -During the few hours left to him he must work rapidly, think hard. That, -too, was good. He decided to write a will. If he had little money to -leave Betty, at least there were things of his and her mother's. Elmer -Boatwright would help him. And he must tell Betty he was going. It was -curiously hard to face her, hard to meet the eye of his own daughter. He -winced at the thought. - -She had returned to the residence before him. He asked for her now. - -M. Pourmont, giving a moment more to considering this man, whom he -had long regarded with a respect he did not feel toward all the -missionaries, wondered, as he sent word to the young lady, what might -underlie that strange quarrel of the early morning. The only explanation -that occurred to him he promptly dismissed, for it involved the -little Mademoiselle's name in a manner which he could not permit to -be considered. M. Pourmont was a shrewd man; and he knew that the -Mademoiselle was ashamed of nothing. Nothing was wrong there. Like his -wife he had already learned to love the busy earnest girl. And then, -leaving M. Doane in the reception-room waiting for her, he returned to -his study and dismissed the whole matter from his mind. For the siege -was cruel business. One by one, some one every day, men and women and -children, were dying. The living had to subsist on diminishing rations, -for he had never foreseen housing and feeding so large a number. There -were problems--of discipline and morale, of tactics, of sanitation, of -burying the dead--that must be met and solved from hour to hour. - -On the whole, as he settled again into his endless, urgent task, M. -Pourmont was not sorry that M. Doane had won his consent to this last -desperate effort to reach those inhumanly deliberate white folk up at -Peking; men whose minds dwelt with precedents and policies while -their fellows, down here at Ping Yang, on a hillside, held off with -diminishing strength the destruction that seemed, at moments, certain to -fall. - -3 - -Doane, watching Betty as she entered the room attired in a long white -apron over her simple dress, knew that he must again beg the question -that lay between them. He could no more listen to the burden of her -heart than to the agony of his own. Sooner or later, if he lived, he -would have to work it out, decide about his life. If he lived.... - -“My dear,” he said, quickly for him, holding her hand more tightly than -he knew, “I have some news which I know you will take bravely.” - -He could feel her steady eyes on him. He hurried on. “I am going out -again to-night. There seems a good chance that I may get through to Shau -T'ing, with messages. I'm going to try.” - -His desire was to speak rapidly on, and then go. But he had to pause -at this. He heard her exclaim softly--“Oh, Dad!” And then after a -silence--“I'm not going to make it hard for you. Of course I understand. -Any of us may come to the end, of course, any moment. We've just got to -take it as it comes. But--I--it does seem as if--after all you've been -through, Dad--as if--” - -He felt himself shaking his head. - -“No,” he said. “No. It's my job, dear.” - -“Very well, Dad. Then you must do it. I know. But I do wish you could -have a day or two more to rest. If you could”--this wistfully--“perhaps -they'd let me off part of the time to take care of you. You know, I'm -nursing. I'd be stern. You'd have to sleep a lot, and eat just \vhat I -gave you.” She patted his arm as she spoke; then added this: “Of course -it's not the time to think of personal things. But there's one thing -I've got to tell you pretty soon, Dad. A strange experience has come -to me. It's puzzling. I can't see the way very clearly. But it's very -wonderful. I believe it's right--really right. It's a man.” - -She rushed on with it. “I wanted you to meet him to-night. He's--out -in the trenches, all day, up the hill. We're expecting word--a -cablegram--when they get through to us. And when that comes, I'd have -to tell you all about it. He'll come to you then. But I--well, I had to -tell you this much. It's been a pretty big experience, and I don't like -to think of going through it like this without your even knowing about -it from me, and knowing, too, no matter what they may say”--her voice -wavered--“that it's--it's--all right.” Her hands reached suddenly up -toward his shoulders; she clung to him, like the child she still, in his -heart, seemed. - -He could trust himself only to speak the little words of comfort he -would have used with a child. He felt that he was not helping her; -merely standing there, helpless in the grip of a fate that seemed bent -on racking his soul to the final Emit of his spiritual endurance. - -“This won't do,” she said. “I have no right to give way. They need me in -the hospital. I shall think of you every minute, Dad. I'm very proud of -you.” - -She kissed him and rushed away. He walked back to Elmer Boatwright's -room fighting off a sense of unreality that had grown so strong as to -be alarming. It was all a nightmare now--the manly dogged faces in the -compound, the wailing sounds from the native quarter, the intermittent -shots, the smells, the very sun that blazed down on the tiling. Nothing -seemed really to matter. He knew well enough, in a corner of his mind, -that this mood was the most dangerous of all. It lay but a step from -apathy; and apathy, to such a nature as his, would mean the end. - -So he busied himself desperately. The simple will he left for Boatwright -with instructions that it was to be given to Betty in the event of his -death. It seemed that the little man was one of a machine-gun crew -and could not be reached until well on in the evening; he had turned -fighter, like the others. - -He sewed up his tattered knapsack and filled it with a sort of iron -ration. He wrote letters, including a long one to Henry Withery, -addressed in care of Dr. Hidderleigh's office at Shanghai. He framed -with care the messages that were to go over the wires to Peking. He ate -alone, and sparingly. And early, as soon as darkness settled over the -scene of petty but bitter warfare, he clipped out of the compound and -disappeared, carrying no weapon but his walking stick. - - - - -CHAPTER XX--LIGHT - - -1 - -DOANE walked, carelessly erect, to a knoll something less than a -hundred yards northeast of the compound and off to the left of the ride -pits. Here he stood for a brief time, listening. He purposed going out -through the lines as he had come in through them, by crawling, hiding, -feeling his way foot by foot. The line was thinnest in front of the -rifle pits, and just to the left where the upper machine gun commanded a -defile. - -He had allowed two hours for the journey through the lines, but it -consumed nearly four. At one point he lay for an hour behind a stone -trough while a squad of Lookers built a fire and brewed tea. A recurring -impulse was to walk calmly in among those yellow men and go down -fighting. It seemed as good a way as any to go. He found it necessary to -hold with a strong effort of will to the thought of his fellow's in the -compound; that to save them, and to save Betty, he must carry through. - -Toward one o'clock in the morning, now well to the eastward of the -besieging force, he swung into his stride. It seemed, in the retrospect, -absurdly like the play of children to be hiding and crawling about the -hillsides. But he was glad now that he had somehow, painfully, kept -his head. Barring the unforeseen, the diplomatic gentlemen up at Peking -would find the news awaiting them when they came to their desks in the -morning. After that noting that he might do would greatly matter. He -could follow these powerfully recurring impulses if he chose; let -the end come. That was now his greatest desire. Life had become quite -meaningless. Except for Betty.... - -2 - -Shau T'ing was but another of the innumerable rural villages that dot -northern China. Though there were a railway station, and sidings, and -a quaintly American water tank set high on posts. The inns were but the -familiar Oriental caravansaries; no modern hotel, no “Astor House,” had -sprung up as yet to care for newly created travel. - -As he approached the stream that ran through a loess canyon a mile or -more west of the village he glimpsed, ahead, a group of soldiers seated -about a fire. Just behind them were stacks of rifles; this much he saw -and surmised with the help of the firelight. And the first glow of dawn -was breaking in the east. He left the highway and swung around through -the fields, passing between scattered grave mounds from whose tops -the white joss papers fluttered in the gray twilight like timid little -ghosts. - -He crossed the gorge by the old suspension footbridge, with the -crumbling memorial arches at either end bearing, each characteristic -inscriptions suggestive of happiness and peace. Looking down-stream he -could dimly see that the railway bridge lay, a tangle of twisted steel, -in the stream, leaving the abutments of white stone rearing high in the -air with wisps of steel swinging aimlessly from the tops. - -He half circled the village, and waited outside the eastern gate until -the massive doors swung open at sunrise. - -He went to the leading inn, and gave up an hour to eating the food in -his knapsack and cleaning his mud-dyed clothing. The innkeeper informed -him, when he brought the boiled water, that another white man had been -there for three days. After this Doane went down to the station. A -solitary engine was puffing and clanking among the sidings, apparently -making up a train. - -A number of the blue-turbaned military police stood sentry-go here and -there about the yard, each with fixed bayonet. Within the room that -was at once ticket office and telegraph station sat the Chinese agent -cheerfully contemplating a slack day. - -Doane wrote out his messages, and stood over the man until they were -sent; then walked slowly back toward the inn. His task, really, was -done. He would wait until night, of course; there might be replies. But -at most his only further service would be in carrying hopeful messages -to the beleaguered folk at Ting Yang. Beyond that he would be but one -more human unit to fight and to be fed. Debit and credit, they seemed -just about to balance, those two items. Fastening his door he stretched -out on the _kang_. - -He was awakened at the close of day by the innkeeper bringing food. The -man set out two plates on the dusty old table. Doane sat on the edge of -the _kang_ and drowsily wondered why. He had slept heavily. He stood up; -moved about the room; he was only a little stiff. Indeed his strength -was surely returning. He felt almost his old self, physically. - -There was a knock at the door. In Chinese he called, “Enter!” - -The door slowly opened, and a drab little man came in, walking with a -slight limp, and stood looking at him out of dusty blue eyes. He carried -a packet of papers. - -“Grigg!” he exclaimed softly. - -“Henry Withery!” cried Doane, “What on earth are you doing here?” - -Withery smiled, and laid hat and packet on the table. - -“I've arranged to dine with you,” he explained. “You won't mind?” - -“Of course not, Henry. But why are you here?” - -“My plans were changed.” - -“Evidently. Do sit down.” - -“I came back to find you. I've been waiting here for a chance to get -through. We've worried greatly, of course. A rumor came from the Chinese -that you were killed.” - -“I nearly was,” said Doane quietly. A cloud had crossed his face as he -listened. At every point, apparently, at each fresh contact with life, -he was to be brought face to face with his predicament. It would be -pitiless business, of course, all the way through, for the severest -judge of all he had yet to face dwelt within his own breast; long after -the world had forgotten, that judge would be pronouncing sentence upon -him. - -“You got through to Shanghai?” he asked abruptly. - -Withery, touched by his appearance, a little disturbed by his nervously -abrupt manner, inclined his head. - -“Well, it's out, I suppose. What are they saying about me, Henry? -Really, you'd better tell me. I've got to live through this thing, you -know. I may as well have the truth at once.” - -Withery lowered his eyes; fingered the chopsticks that lay by his plate. - -“No,” he said slowly. “No, Grigg, it's not out.” - -“But you know of it. Surely others do, then. And they'll talk. It's the -worst way. It'll run wild. I'd rather face a church trial than that.” - He was himself unaware that he had been constantly brooding upon this -aspect of his trouble, yet the words came snapping out as if he had -thought of nothing else. - -“Now, Grigg,” said Withery, in the same deliberately thoughtful way, -“I want you to let me talk. I've come way back here just to do that. -Hidderleigh showed me your letter. Then in my presence, he destroyed it. -I have promised him I would speak of it to no one but you. ... Neither -you nor I could have foreseen just how Hidderleigh would take this. -He is, of course, as he has always been, a dogmatic thinker. But like -others of us, he has grown some with the years. He's less narrow, Grigg. -He knows you pretty well--your ability, your influence. He respects -you.” - -“Respects me?” Doane nearly laughed. - -“Yes. He sees as clearly as you or I could that any human creature may -slip. And he knows that no single slip is fatal. Grigg, he wants you to -go back and take up your work.” - -Doane could not at once comprehend this astonishing statement. He was -deeply moved. Withery by his simple friendliness had already done much -to restore in his mind, for the moment, a normal feeling for life. - -“But he feels, Grigg, that you ought to marry again.” - -Doane shook his head abruptly. - -“No,” he cried, “I can't consider that. Not now.” - -“As he said to me, Grigg, 'It is not good for man to be alone!'” - -Withery let the subject rest here, and asked about the fighting. The -whole outside world was watching these Hansi hills, it appeared. The -Imperial Government was already disclaiming responsibility. Troops were -on their way, from Hong Kong, from the Philippines, from Indo-China. - -“It will be a month or so before they can get out here,” mused Doane. - -“Oh, yes! At best.” - -“Meantime, the compound will fall at the first really determined attack. -They've been afraid of Pour-mont's machine guns--I heard some of their -talk last night, and the night before--but let Kang come to a decision -to drive them in and they'll go. That will settle it in a day.” - -“Will they have the courage?” - -“I think so. You and I know these people, Henry. They're brave enough. -All they lack is leadership, and organization. And this crowd have a -strong fanaticism to hold them up. Once let Kang appeal to their spirit -and they'll have to go in to save face. For if they can't be seen the -only danger is of an accident here and there. And, for that matter, Kang -may simply be waiting for Pourmont to use up his ammunition. It can't -last a great while, not in a real siege, which this is.” - -“By the way,” said Withery a little later, “here is a lot of mail for -Pourmont's people. It's been accumulating. There was no way to get it to -them.” - -“I'll take it in,” said Doane. - -“You? You don't mean that you're going to ran that gauntlet again, -Grigg?” - -“Yes.” He untied the packet, and looked through the little heap of -envelopes. One was a cablegram addressed to Jonathan Brachey. He held -it in tense fingers; gazed at it long while the pulse mounted in his -temples. “Oh, yes,” he said, almost casually then, “I'm going hack in. -They'll be looking for me.” But his thoughts were running wild again. - -Withery said, before he left, “I'm going to ask you not to answer -Hidderleigh's request until you've thought it over carefully. My own -feeling is that he is right.” - -“Suppose,” said Doane, “my final decision should be--as I think it -will--that I can't go back. What will they do?” - -“Then I've promised him, I'll go in and take up your work. As soon as -this trouble is over.” - -“That knocks out your year at home, Henry.” - -“Yes, but what matters it? Very likely I shall find more happiness in -working, after all. That isn't what disturbs me.... Grigg, if you leave -the church it will be, I think, the severest blow of my life. I--I'm -going to tell you this--for years I've leaned on you. You didn't know, -but I've made a better job of my life for knowing that you too were hard -at it, just beyond the mountains. We haven't seen much of each other, of -late years, but I've felt you there.” - -Doane's stern face softened as he looked at his old friend. - -“And I've felt you, Henry,” he replied gently. - -“Your blunders are those of strength, not of weakness, Grigg. Perhaps -your greatest mistake has been in leaning a little too strongly on -yourself. What I want you to consider now is giving self up, in every -way.” - -But Duane shook his great head. - -“No, Henry--no! I've given to the uttermost for years. And it has -wrecked my life--” - -“No, Grigg! Don't say that!” - -“Well--put it as you will. The trouble has been that I was doing wrong -all the time--for years--as I told you back in Tiaman, I was doing the -wrong thing. It led, all of it, to sin. For that sin, of course, I've -suffered, and must suffer more. The best reason I could think of for -going back would be to keep this added burden off your shoulders. But -that would be wrong too. It's getting a little clearer to me. I know -now that I've got to face my doubts and my sins, take them honestly for -whatever they may be. Each life must function in its own way. In the -eagerness of youth I chose wrong. I must now take the consequences. -Good-by, now! There's barely time to slip through the lines before -dawn.” - -Withery rose. “I'll go with you,” he said. - -“No. I won't allow that. You haven't the strength. You're not an -outdoor man We should have to separate anyway; together we should almost -certainly be caught. No. You stay here and get word through to them -from day to day if you can find any one to undertake it. It will mean -everything to them to hear from the outside world. Good luck!” - -He took the packet and went out. - -3 - -Again it was dawn Griggsby Doane stood on the crest of a terraced hi'! -looking off into the purple west. But a few miles farther on lay Ping -Yang. - -Beneath him, near the foot of the slope, four coolies were already at -the radiating windlasses of a well, and tiny streams of yellow water -were trickling along troughs in the loess toward this and that field, -where bent silent farmers waited clod in hand to guide the precious -fluid from furrow to furrow. Still farther down, along the sunken -highway, a few venturesome muleteers led their trains. No outposts in -the Looker uniform were to be seen. And he heard no shots. It would be a -lull, then, in the fighting. - -He descended the hill, dropped into the road, and walked, head high, -toward Ping Yang. As he swung along he heard, far off, the shots his -ears had strained for on the hill; one, another, then a spattering -volley; but he walked straight on. The Mongols and Chihleans on the road -gave him no more than the usual glance of curiosity. He passed through -a village; Ping Yang would be the next. The railway grade--here -an earthen rampart, there a cutting, yonder a temporary wooden -trestle--paralleled the highway, cutting into the heart of old China -like a surgeon's knife, letting out superstition and festering poverty, -letting n the strong fluids of commerce and education. He felt the -health of it profoundly, striding on alone through the cool, dear -morning air. It was imperfect, of course, this Western civilization that -he had so nearly come to doubt; yet, materialistic in its nature or not, -it was the best that the world had to offer at the moment. It was what -the amazing instinct in man to push on, to better his body and his -brain, had brought the world to. It seemed, now, a larger expression of -the vitality he felt within himself, the force that he had so lavishly -expended in a direction that was wrong for him. - -He felt this, which could not have been less than the beginning of a new -focus of his misdirected, scattered powers, and yet he walked straight -on toward the red army that was sworn to kill all the whites. And -though his brain still told him, coolly, without the slightest sense of -personal concern, that he would probably be slain within the hour, his -heart, or his rising spirit, as calmly dismissed the report. - -It might come, of course. He literally didn't care. Death might come at -any moment to any man. The present moment was his; and the next, and the -next, until the last whenever it should come. He walked with a thrilling -sense of power, above the world. For the world, life itself, was -suddenly coming back to him. He had been ill--for years, he knew now--of -a sick faith. Now he was well. If the old dogmatic religion was gone, he -was sensing a new personal religion of work, of healthy functioning, -of unquestioning service in the busy instinctive life of the world. He -would turn, not away from life to a mystical Heaven, but straight -into life at its busiest, head up, as now on the old highway of Hansi, -trusting his instinct as a human creature. No matter how difficult the -start he would plunge in and live his life out honestly. Betty remained -the problem; he knit his brows at the thought; but the new flame in -his heart blazed steadily higher. Whatever the problems, he couldn't he -headed now. - -“What a morbid, sick fool I've been!” It was the cry of a heart new born -to health. It occurred to him, then, as he heard his own voice, that -this new sense of light had come to him as suddenly as that other light -that smote Paul on the Damascus road. It had the force, as he considered -it now, of a miracle.... - -4 - -The road was blocked ahead. Drawing near, he saw beyond the mules and -horses and men of the highway and the curious, pressing country folk a -considerable number of yellow turbans crowding the road canyon. There -must have been a hundred or more, with many rifle muzzles slanting -crazily above them. After a moment the rabble broke toward him. - -Doane did not wait for them to discover him, but raising his stick and -calling for room to pass he walked in among them. He stood head and -shoulders above them, a suddenly appearing white giant whom a few -resisted at first, but more gave way to as he pushed firmly through. -Emerging on the farther side he walked on his way without so much as -looking back. And not a shot had been fired. - -The road wound its way between steep walls of loess, so that ii was -impossible at any point to see far ahead. He came upon other, smaller -groups of the Lookers. Only one man, the largest of them, threatened -him, but as the man raised the butt of his rifle Doane snatched the -weapon from him and knocked him down with it; then tossed it aside and -strode on as before. - -He came at length to a scenic arch in a notch. Through the arch Ping -Yang could be seen in its valley. - -He stopped and looked. Near at hand were the tents of some of the Looker -soldiery; beyond lay the village; and beyond that on the hillside, the -compound of the company, lying as still as if it were deserted. There -were no puffs of smoke, no sounds along the village street; between the -outlying houses small figures appeared to Le bustling about, but they -made no noise that could be heard up here. The scene was uncanny. - -Doane, however, went on down the hill. None of the Lookers were in -evidence now on the winding street, but only the silent, curious -villagers; this until two soldiers in blue came abruptly out of a house; -and then two others firmly holding by the arms a man in red and yellow -with an embroidered square on the breast of his tunic that marked him as -an officer of rank. Other soldiers followed, one bearing a large curved -sword. - -Doane stopped to watch. - -Without ceremony the officer's wrists were tied behind his back. He was -kicked to his knees. A blue soldier seized his queue and with it jerked -his head forward. The swordsman, promptly, with one clean blow', severed -the neck; then wiped his sword on the dead man's clothing and marched -away with the others, carrying the head. - -Duane shivered slightly, compressed his lips, and, paler, walked on. -He passed other blue soldiers in the heart of the village, and a row of -Lookers standing without arms. Emerging from the straggling groups of -houses beyond the village wall he took the road up the hill. Away up the -slope he could see the men of the outposts standing and sitting on the -parapets of the rifle pits. At the gate of the compound he called out. - -The gate opened, and closed behind him. Within stood men of the -garrison, and women, and behind them the Chinese. All looked puzzled. -Many tongues greeted him at once, eagerly questioning. - -He looked about from one to another of the thin weary faces with burning -eyes that hung on his slightest gesture, and slowly shook his head. He -could answer none of their questions. He was searching for one face that -meant more to him than all the others. It was not there. He walked on -toward the house occupied by the Boatwrights. Just as he was turning in -there he saw Betty. She was tunning across from the residence. - -“On, Dad!” she cried. “You're back!” Her arms were around his neck. “How -wonderful! And you're well--like your old self.” - -[Illustration: 0357] - -“Better than my old self, dear,” he said, with a tender smile, and -kissed her forehead. - -“I can't stay, Dad. I just ran out. Wasn't it strange--I saw you from -the window! But what's happened? What is it? Everybody's so puzzled. -Have the troops come?”. - -He shook his head. - -“But it's something. Everybody's terribly excited.” - -“I don't understand it myself, dear. Though I walked through it, -apparently.” - -“Oh, look! They're opening the gate! What is it?” She hopped with -impatience, like a child, and clapped her hands. “Oh, I mustn't stay! -But tell m, do you think this dreadful business is over?” - -“I believe it is, Betty.” - -She ran back to her post. And he returned to the gate. - -An odd little cavalcade was moving deliberately up the hill. In front -marched a soldier in blue bearing a large white flag (an obviously -Western touch, this). Behind him came a squad in column of fours, on -foot and unarmed; then a green sedan chair with four pole-men; behind -this three pavilions with carved wooden tops, of the sort carried in -wedding processions, each with four bearers; and last another squad of -foot soldiers. - -Just outside the gate they came to a halt. The soldiers formed in line -on either side of the road. An officer advanced and asked permission to -enter. This was granted. At once the chairmen set down their burden. The -carved door opened, and a young Chinese gentleman stepped out. He was -tall, slim, with large spectacles; and moved with a quiet dignity that -amounted to a distinction of bearing. His long robe was of shimmering -blue silk embroidered in rose and gold; and the embroidered emblem on -his breast exhibited the silver pheasant of a mandarin of the fifth -class. On his head, the official, bowl-shaped straw hat with red tassel -was surmounted with a ball or button of crystal an inch in diameter set -in a mount of exquisitely worked gold. His girdle clasp also was of -worked gold with a plain silver button. The shoes that appeared beneath -the hem of his robe were richly embroidered and had thick white soles. - -Calmly, deliberately, he entered the compound. One of the engineers, an -American, addressed him in the Mandarin tongue. He replied, in a deep -musical voice, with a pronounced intonation that gave this mellow -language, to a casual ear, something the sound of French. - -The engineer bowed, and together they moved toward the residence, where -a somewhat mystified M. Pourmont awaited them. But first the mandarin -turned and signaled to the pavilion bearers, who still waited outside -the gate. These came in now, and it became evident that the ornate -structures were laden with gifts. There were platters of fruits and -of sweetmeats, bottles of wine, cooked dishes, and small caskets, some -carved, others lacquered, that might have contained jewels. - -Doane, quietly observing the scene, found something familiar in the -appearance of the envoy. Something vaguely associated with the judge's -yamen at T'ainan-fu. Certainly, on some occasion, he had seen the man. -He stood for a brief time watching the two figures, a white man in -stained brown clothing, unkempt of appearance but vigorous in person, -walking beside the elegant young mandarin, appearing oddly crude beside -him, curiously lacking in the grace that marked every slightest movement -of the silk-clad Oriental; and the picture dwelt for a time among his -thoughts--the oldest civilization in the world, and the youngest. -Crude vigor, honest health, contrasted with a decadence that clung -meticulously to every slightest subtlety of etiquette. And behind the -two, towering above the heads of the ragged bearers, the curving pointed -roofs of the three pavilions, still gaily bizarre in form and color -despite the weatherbeaten condition of the paint; a childish touch, -suggestive of circus day in an American village. Suggestive, too, -whimsically, of the second childhood of the oldest race. - -Doane, reflecting thus, slowly followed them to the residence. - -5 - -Jonathan Brachey sat moodily on the parapet. Down below, the compound -(a crowded mass of roofs within a rectangle of red-gray wail) and below -that the straggling village, stood out as blocked-in masses of light and -shadow under the slanting rays of the morning sun. - -A French youth, beside him, polishing his rifle with a greasy rag, -looked up with a question. - -Brachey shook his head; he had no information. He looked over toward the -other pit. The Australian in command there (three nights earlier they -had buried Swain) waved a carelessly jocular hand and went on nibbling a -biscuit. - -The thing might be over; it might not. Brachey found himself almost -perversely disturbed, however, at the prospect of peace. He had supposed -that he hated this dirty, bloody business. He saw no glory in fighting, -merely primitive blood-lust; an outcropping of the beast in man; -evidence that in his age-long struggle upward from the animal stage of -existence man had yet a long, long way to climb. But from the thought of -losing this intense preoccupation, of living quietly with the emphasis -again placed on personal problems, he found himself shrinking. What a -riddle it was! - -He spoke shortly to the French youth, took up his own rifle, and led the -way up the hill to the bullet-spattered farm compounds. They were quite -deserted. Only the huddled, noxious dead remained. He went on up the -hillside, searching all the hiding-places of those red and yellow -vandals who had filled his thoughts by day and haunted his sleep at, -night; but all were empty of human life. A great amount of rubbish was -left--cooking utensils, knives, old Chinese-made rifles and swords, bits -of uniforms. He found even a jade ring and a few strings of brass cash. - -Weary of spirit he returned to the rifle pits only to find these, too, -deserted. From the upper redoubt a man was waving, beckoning. Apparently -the compound gate was open, and a group of soldiers standing in line -outside; but these soldiers wore blue. Through his glasses he surveyed -the moving dots near the village; none wore red and yellow. - -The man was still waving from the redoubt. The French youth, he found -now, was looking up at him, that eager question still in his eyes. He -nodded. With a sudden wild shout the boy ran down the hill, waving bis -rifle over his head. - -So it was peace--sudden, enigmatic. Brachey sat again on the parapet. -Griggsby Doane was doubtless there (Brachey knew nothing of his journey; -he had not seen Betty. What could he say to him, to the father whom -Betty loved? - -This wouldn't do, of course. He rose, a set dogged expression on his -long, always serious face, and went slowly down the hill; and with only -a nod to this person and that got to his tent. Once within, he closed -the flaps and sat on the cot. He discovered then that he had brought -with him one of the strings of cash, and jingled it absently against his -knee. - -Voices sounded outside. Men were standing before the tent. - -Then the flaps parted, and he beheld the spectacled, pleasantly smiling -face of Mr. Po. - -“Oh,” he said, more shortly than he knew. “Come in!” - -Mr. Po stepped inside, letting the flaps fall together behind him. He -made a splendid figure in blue and gold, as he removed the round hat -with its red plume and crystal ball and laid it on the rude table. - -“I'm glad to see you're still sound of life and limb and fresh as a -daisy,” he remarked cheerfully. “With permission I will sit here a bit -for informal how-do chin-chin, and forget from minute to minute all -ceremonial dam-foolishness.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI--THE SOULS OF MEN - - -1 - -WELL,” continued Mr. Po expansively, “I've certainly had a pretty -kettle of fish about my ears.” - -Brachey filled and lighted his pipe, and yielded his senses for a -moment to the soothing effect of the fragrant smoke. - -“Is the fighting really over?” he asked. - -“Oh, yes!” - -“But why? What's happened?” - -Mr. Po indulged in his easy, quiet laugh. - -“To begin at first blush,” he said, settling comfortably back as If -launched on a long narrative, “while out on scouting leap in dark I -stumbled plump on Lookers, and by thunder, it was necessary to trust -broken reed of lying on stomach hi open ground!” - -“They caught you?” - -“Oh, yes! For hell of a while I held breath, but with dust in nose it -became unavoidable to sneeze. I would then have lost head promptly but -officer of yamen entourage of Kang spotted me and said, 'What the devil -you doing here!' With which I explain of course that I escape by hook -or crook from white devils. Then I appear before general and demand -audience discussion with old Kang. Old reprobate received me and made -long speech. Perfectly absurd! He said I must go to T'ainan-fu as his -particular guest and speak to His Excellency Pao Ting Chuan his message, -like this: - -“'For many years I have known and respected your abilities as scholar -and statesman of huge understanding ability. We have both seen, you and -I, continuing unprincipled encroachment of foreign devil on preserves -of our ancient and fruitful land, while the sorrow of our own Hansi -Province under heel of foreign mining syndicate despot is matter of -common ill repute to us both. Now as loyal friend and unswervingly -determined on destroying all evil influence of foreign devils, I invite -you as guest to share with me pleasure of witnessing capture and utter -destruction of foreign compound at Ping Yang. Omens agree on midnight of -to-day week, following banquet of state and theatrical performance at -my headquarters, at which favorite amateur actor Wang Lo Hsu will recite -historical masterpiece, “The Song of Wun Hsing.” And as my cooks are all -wretched creatures, unworthy of catering to poorest classes, I beg of -you bring delicately expert cook of Canton that I may again rejoice in -delightful memory of sweet lotus soup.'” - -Mr. Po paused to light a cigarette. - -“So you went back to Tiainan?” asked Brachey. - -“Oh, no, I was taken back against grain as prisoner of large armed -guard.” - -“And you delivered the message?” - -“Oh, yes!” - -“Pao didn't accept, of course. Though I don't see how he could get out -of it. He had no soldiers to speak of, did he?” - -“Oh, yes, some. These he sent by northern road to region of Shan Tang, -only thirty _li_ away from Ping Yang. And then he accept, for His -Excellency is great statesman. Nobody yet ever put it over on His -Excellency, not so you could notice it. Without frown or smile he -assemble secretaries, runners and lictors of yamen. banner-men, some -concubines and eunuchs and come post-haste.” - -“So he's here now?” - -“Oh, yes. We have large establishment at temple over on neighboring -hill. And everything's all right. O. K.” - -“You'll forgive me if I don't at all understand why.” - -“Naturally. I am going to make clear as cotton print. For a day or so -everything was as disorderly as the dickens, of course. You couldn't -hear yourself think. And sleep? My God, there wasn't _any_. And of -course after death of old reprobate Lookers went to pieces and raised -Ned. It became necessary to punish leaders and all that sort of thing. -You see, Dame Rumor gets move on in China, runs around like scared -chicken, faster than telegraph, I sometimes think. And when Lookers -heard stories, that Imperial Government up at Peking wasn't so crazy -about giving them support, and might even hand them double-cross lemon, -they began to think about patching holes in fences. They just blew -up. And His Excellency”--he chuckled--“he grasped situation like chain -lightning. Oh, but he's whale of a fellow, His Excellency!” Brachey -smoked reflectively as he studied this curiously bloodless enthusiast. -Evidently behind the humorously inadequate English speech of Mr. Po -there was, if it could be got at, a stirring drama of intrigue. A -typical Oriental drama, bearing a smooth surface of silken etiquette -but essentially cruel and bloody. The difficulty would be, of course, in -getting at it, drawing it out piecemeal and putting it together. - -“His Excellency will now clean up whole shooting match,” Mr. Po went on. -“No more Ho Shan Company!” And he waved his cigarette about to indicate -the compound. - -“Oh, that goes, too?” - -“Oh, yes! His Excellency has at once telegraphed agent-general -at Tientsin for final show-down price on surrender of all leases, -agreements, expenses, bribes and absolute good riddance. They say three -million taels cash. To-morrow we shall throw it at their heads. And so -much for that!” - -“H'm!” mused Brachey. “Pretty quick work. Rather takes one's breath -away.” - -“Oh, yes! But His Excellency's son of a gun.” - -“Evidently. But I'm still in the dark as to how this rather -extraordinary change came about. Did I understand you to say that Kang -is dead?” - -“Oh, yes! Night before last.” - -“How did that happen?” - -“Oh, well--it's just as well not to give this away--on arrival at Ping -Yang His Excellency made at once prepare bowl of sweet lotus soup and -send it with many compliments and hopes of good omens to old devil.” - -“You mean--there was poison in it?” - -“Oh, yes! Pretty darned hard to put it over His Excellency. After that -it was no trouble at all to behead commanders of Looker troops.” - -“Naturally,” was Brachey's only comment. He proceeded to draw out, bit -by bit, other details of the story. - -Some one stepped before the tent, and a strong voice called: - -“Mr. Brachey.” - -With a nervously abrupt movement Brachey sprang up and threw back the -flaps; and beheld, standing there, stooping in order that he might see -within, the giant person of Griggsby Doane. - -2 - -Brachey bowed coldly. Doane's strong gaunt face worked perceptibly. - -Brachey said: - -“Won't you come in, sir? The tent is”--there was a pause--“the tent -is small, but... You are perhaps acquainted with Mr. Po Sui-an of the -yamen of His Excellency Pao Ting Chuan.” - -Mr. Doane bowed toward the Chinese gentleman. - -“I think I have seen Mr. Po at the yamen,” he said, speaking now in the -slow grave way of the old Griggsby Doane. “You bring good news?” - -“Oh, yes!” Mr. Po lighted a cigarette. “We shall doubtless in jiffy see -you again at T'ainan-fu.” - -Doane looked thoughtfully, intently at him, then replied in the simple -phrase, “It may be.” To Brachey he said now, producing a white envelope, -“I found this, cablegram held for you at Shau T'ing, sir.” - -Brachey took the envelope; stood stiffly holding it unopened before him. -For a moment the eyes of these two men met. Then Doane broke the tension -by simply raising his head, an action which removed it from the view of -the men within the tent. - -“Good morning,” he said rather gruffly. And “Good morning, Mr. Po.” - -He was well out of ear-shot when Brachey's gray lips mechanically -uttered the two words, “Thank you.” From a distant corner of the -compound came the fresh voices of young men--Americans and Australian -and English--raised in crudely pleasant harmony They were singing _My -Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean_. As they swung into the rolling, rollicking -refrain, women's voices joined in faintly from here and there about -the compound.... Brachey seemed to be listening. Then, again, abruptly -starting into action, he stepped outside the tent and stared across the -courtyard after Griggby Doane.... Then, as abruptly, he remembered his -guest and returned within the tent, with an almost muttered “I beg your -pardon.” - -“Oh, go on--read your cablegram!” said Mr. Po good-humoredly. - -Bradley looked at him; then at the envelope--turning it slowly over. His -hands trembled. This fact appeared to disturb him. He held one hand -out before his face and watched it intently, finally lowering it with -a quick nervous shake of the head. He seated himself again on the cot; -tore off an end of the envelope; caught his breath; then sat motionless -with the bit of paper that meant to him everything in life, or nothing, -hanging between limp fingers. A puzzling reminder of the strange man, -Griggsby Doane, was the painful throbbing in his head.... They were -singing again, about the compound--it was the college song of his youth, -_Solomon Levi_. - -He thought, with another of those odd little mental and physical jerks, -again of his guest; and heard himself saying--weakly it seemed, like -a man talking in dreams--“You will think me...” But found himself -addressing an empty enclosure of canvas. Mr. Po had slipped out and -dropped the flaps. That he could have done this unobserved frightened -Brachey a little. He looked again at his trembling hand. - -Again he raised the envelope. Until this moment he had assumed that it -could be but one message to himself and Betty; but now he knew vividly -better. - -Anything might have happened. It was unthinkable that he should want the -courage to read it. He had foreseen no such difficulty. Perhaps if it -had come by any other hand than that of Griggsby Doane.... - -His thoughts wandered helplessly back over the solitary life he had -led... wandering in Siam and Borneo and Celebes, dwelling here and there -in untraveled corners of India, picking up the quaint folklore of the -Malay Peninsula, studying the American sort of social organization in -the Philippines... eight years of it! He had begun as a disheartened -young man, running bitterly away from the human scheme in which he found -no fitting niche. Yes, that was it, after all; he had run away! He had -begun with a defeat, based his working life on just that. The five -substantial books that now stood to his name in every well-stocked -library in America, as in many in England and on the Continent, were, -after all, but stop-gaps in an empty life. They were a subterfuge, those -books.........All the hard work, the eager close thinking, was now, -suddenly, meaningless. That he had chosen work instead of drink, that he -had been, after all, a decent fellow, pursuing neither chance nor women, -seemed immaterial. - -The curse of an active imagination was on him now, and was riding him as -wildly as ever witch rode a broomstick. - -The very bit of paper in his hand was nothing if not the symbol of his -terrible failure in the business called living. As he had built his work -on failure, was he, inevitably, to build the happiness of himself and -Betty on the same painful foundation. Even if the paper should announce -his freedom? Bitterly he repeated aloud the word, “Freedom!” Then -“Happiness?”... What were these elusive things? Were they in any sense -realities? - -He nerved himself and read the message: - -“Absolute decree granted you are free.” - -He tossed it, with its unpunctuated jumble of words, on the table. - -A little later, though he still indulged in this scathing self-analysis, -the habit of meeting responsibilities that was more strongly a part of -his nature than in this hour of utter emotion he knew, began to assert -itself. The strong character that had led him, after all, out to fight -and to build his mental house, was largely the man. - -He slowly got up and stood before the square bit of mirrror that hung -on the rear tent-pole; then looked down at his mud-stained clothes. -Deliberately, almost painfully, he shaved and dressed. It was -characteristic that he put on a stiff linen collar. - -There was, to a man of his stripe, just one thing to do: and that thing -he was going at directly, firmly. Until it was done he could not so much -as speak to Betty. Of the outcome of this effort he had no notion; he -was going at it doggedly, with his character rather than with his -mind. Indeed the mind quibbled, manufactured little delays, hinted at -evasions. He even listened to these whisperings, entertained them; but -meanwhile went straight on with his dressing. - -3 - -As he emerged from the tent sudden noises assailed his ears. A line of -young men danced in lock step, doing a serpentine from one areaway to -another, and waving and shouting merrily as they passed. There was still -the singing, somewhere; one of the songs of Albert Chevalier, who -had not then been forgotten. He heard vaguely, with half an ear, the -enthusiastic outburst of sound on the final line: - -“Missie 'Enry 'Awkins is a first-class nyme!” - -So it was a day of celebration! He had forgotten that it would be. -But of course! Even the Chinese were at it; he could hear one of their -flageolets wailing, and, more faintly, stringed instruments. - -He walked directly to the building occupied by the Boatwrights; sent in -his card to Mr. Doane. - -He was shown into a little cubicle of a room. Here was the huge man, -rising from an absurdly small work table that had been crowded in by -the window, between the wall and the foot of the bed. He was writing, -apparently, a long letter. - -Brachey, an odd figure to Doane's eyes, in his well-made suit and stiff -white collar, stood on the sill, as rigid as a soldier at attent ion. - -“I am interrupting you,” he said, almost curtly, - -For the first time Griggsby Doane caught a glimpse of the man Brachey -behind that all but forbidding front; and he hesitated, turning for -a moment, stacking his papers together, and with a glance at the open -window laying a book across them. - -He had said, kindly enough, “Oh, no, indeed! Come right in.” But his -thoughts were afield, or else he was busily, quickly, rearranging them. - -Brachey stepped within, and closed the door. Here they were, these two, -at last, shut together in a room. It was a moment of high tension. - -“Sit down,” said Doane, still busying himself at the table, but waving -an immense hand toward the other small chair. - -But Brachey stood... waiting... in his hand a folded paper. - -Finally Doane lifted his head, with a brusk but not unpleasant, “Yes, -sir?” - -Brachey, for a moment, pressed his lips tightly together. - -“Mr. Doane,” he said then, clipping his words off short, “may I first -ask you to read this cablegram?” - -Doane took the paper, started to unfold it, but then dropped it on the -table and stepped forward. - -And now for the first time Brachey sensed, behind this great frame and -the weary, haggard face, the real Griggsby Doane; and stood very still, -fighting for control over the confusion in his aching head. This was, he -saw now, a strong man; a great deal more of a personality than he had -supposed he would find. Even before the next words, he felt something of -what was coming, something of the vigorous honesty of the man. Doane had -been through recent suffering, that was clear Something---and even then, -in one of his keen mental dashes, Brachey suspected that it was a much -more personal experience than the Looker attack--something had upset -him. This wasn't a man to turn baby over a wound, or to lose his head in -a little fighting. No, it was an illness of the soul that had hollowed -the eyes and deepened the grooves between them. But it didn't matter. -What did matter was that he was now, in this gentle mood, surprisingly -like Betty. For she had a curious vein of honesty; and she said, at -times, just such unexpectedly frank, wholly open things as he felt -(with an opening heart) that the father was about to say now. - -“Mr. Brachey”--this was what he said, with extraordinary simplicity of -manner--“can you take my hand?” - -If Brachey had spoken his reply his voice would have broken. Instead he -gripped the proffered hand. And during a brief moment they stood there. - -“Now,” said Doane quietly, “sit down.” And he read the cablegram. After -some quiet thought he said, “Have you come to ask for Betty?” - -The directness of this question made speech, to Brachey, even more -nearly impossible than before. He bowed his head. - -Doane had dropped into the little chair by the little table. He sat, -now, thinking and absently weighing the cablegram in one hand. Finally, -reaching a conclusion, he rose again. - -“The best way, I think, will be to settle this thing now.” He appeared -to be speaking as much to himself as to his caller. “I'll get Betty. You -won't mind waiting? They don't have call bells in this house.” And he -returned the cablegram and went out of the room, leaving the door ajar -behind him. - -Brachey stepped over to the window, thinking he might see Betty when she -came, but it gave on an inner court. He stared out at the gray tiling. -The moment was, to him, terrible. He stood on the threshold of that -strange region of the spirit that is called happiness. The door, always -before closed to him (except the one previous experience when it proved -but an entry into bitterness and desolation) had opened, here at the -last, amazingly, at his touch. And he was afraid to look. - -It seemed an hour later when footsteps sounded outside, and the outer -door opened. Then they came in, father and daughter. - -Betty, rather white, stood hesitant, looking from one to the other. -Doane placed a gently protecting arm about her slim shoulders. - -“I haven't told her,” he said. “That is for you to do. I want you both -to wait while I look for the others.” - -He was gone. Betty came slowly forward. Brachey handed her the -cablegram. - -“I--I can't read it,” she said, with a tremulous little laugh. -“John--I'm crying!” - -4 - -The door squeaked. Miss Hemphill looked in; stopped short; then in -a sudden confusion of mind in which indignation struggled with -bewilderment for the upper hand, stepped back into the hall. Before -she could come down on the decision to flee, Dr. Cassin joined her; -curiously, carrying her medicine case. - -To the physician's brisk, “Mr. Doane sent word to come here at once. -Do you know what is the matter?” Miss Hemphill could only reply, rather -acidly, “I can't imagine!” - -Mrs. Boatwright came into the corridor then, followed by Doane. She -walked with firm dignity, her enigmatic face squarely set. And when he -ushered them into the room, she entered without a word, but remained -near the door. - -For a long moment the room was still; a hush settling over them that -intensified the difficulty in the situation. Miss Hemphill stared down -at the matting. Mrs. Boatwright's eyes were fixed firmly on the wall -over the bed. The one audible sound was the heavy breathing of Griggsby -Doane, who stood with his back to the door, brows knit, one hand -reaching a little way before him. He appeared, to the shrewd eyes of Dr. -Cassin, like a man in deep suffering. But when he spoke it was with -the poise, the sense of dominating personality, that she had felt and -admired during all the earlier years of their long association. Of late -he had been ill of a subtle morbid disease of which she had within the -week witnessed the nearly tragic climax; but now he was well again.... -Mary Cassin was a woman of considerable practical gifts. Her medical -experience, illuminated as it had been by wide scientific reading, -gave her a first-hand knowledge of the human creature and a tolerant -elasticity of judgment that contrasted oddly with the professed tenets -of her church, with their iron classification as sin of much that is -merely honest human impulse, that might even, properly, be set down -as human need. She saw clearly enough that the quality in the human -creature that is called, usually, force, is essentially emotional in its -content--and that the person gifted with force therefore must be plagued -with emotional problems that increase in direct ratio with the gift. -Unlike Mrs. Boatwright, who was, of course, primarily a moralist, -Mary Cassin possessed the other great gift of dispassionate, objective -thought. I think she had long known the nature of Doane's problem. -Certainly she knew that no medical skill could help him; her -advice, always practical, would have taken the same direction as Dr. -Hidderleigh's. It brought her a glow of something not unlike happiness -to see that now he was well. The cure, whatever it might prove to have -been, was probably mental. Knowing Griggsby Doane as she did, that was -the only logical conclusion. For she knew how strong he was. - -“There has existed among us a grave misapprehension”--thus Doane--“one -in which, unfortunately, I have myself been more grievously at fault -than any of you. I wish, now, before you all, to acknowledge my own -confusion in this matter, and, further, to clear away any still existing -misunderstanding in your minds.... Mr. Brachey has established the fact -that he is eligible to become Betty's husband. That being the case, I -can only add that I shall accept him as my only son-in-law with pride -and satisfaction. He has proved himself worthy in every way of our -respect and confidence.” - -Mary Cassin broke the hush that followed by stepping quickly forward -and kissing Betty; after which she gave her hand warmly to Brachey. Then -with a word about her work at the hospital she went briskly out. - -Miss Hemphill started forward, only to hesitate and glance in a spirit -of timid inquiry at the implacable Mrs. Boatwright. To her simple, -unquestioning faith, Mr. Doane and Mary Cassin could not together be -wrong; yet her closest daily problem was that of living from hour to -hour under the businesslike direction of Mrs. Boatwright. However, -having started, and lacking the harsh strength of character to be cruel, -she went on, took the hands of Betty and Brachey in turn, and wished -them happiness. Then she, too, hurried away. - -Elmer Boatwright was studying his wife. His color was high, his eyes -nervously bright. He was studying, too, Griggsby Doane, who had for -more than a decade been to him almost an object of worship. Moved by -an impulse, perhaps the boldest of his life--and just as his wife said, -coldly, “I'm sure I wish you happiness,” and moved toward the door--he -went over and caught Betty and Brachey each by a hand. - -“I haven't understood this,” he said--and tears stood in his eyes as he -smiled on them--“but now I'm glad. Betty, we are all going to be proud -of the man you have chosen. I'm proud of him now.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXII--BEGINNINGS - -1 - -THE day of sudden and dramatic peace was drawing near its close. Seated -on the parapet of a rifle pit Betty and Brachey looked out over the -red-brown valley. Long, faintly purple shadows lay along the hillside -and in the deeper hollows. From the compound, half-way down the slope, -a confusion of pleasant sounds came to their ears--youthful voices, -snatches of song, an energetically whistled Sousa march, the quaintly -plaintive whine of Chinese woodwinds--while above the roofs of tile -and iron within the rectangle of wall (that was still topped with brown -sand-bags) wisps of smoke drifted lazily upward. - -“It seems queer,” mused he, aloud, “sitting here like this, with -everything so peaceful. During the fighting I didn't feel nervous, -but now I start at every new sound. I loathed it, too; but now, this -evening, I miss it, in a way.” He gazed moodily down into the short -trench. “Right there,” he said, “young Bartlett was hit.” - -“And you brought him in under fire.” - -“A Chinaman helped me.” - -“Oh, it was you,” she said. “He wouldn't have done it. I watched -from the window.” Her chin was propped on two small lists; her eyes, -reflective, were looking out over the compound and the valley toward the -walled temple on the opposite slope with its ornate, curving roofs and -its little group of trees that were misty with young foliage. “I've been -thinking a good deal about that, and some other things. All you said, -back there on the ship, about independence and responsibility.” - -“I don't believe I care to remember that,” said he quietly. - -“But, John, if you will say startling, strong things to an -impressionable girl--and I suppose that's all I was then--you can't -expect her to forget them right away.” - -His face relaxed into a faint, fleeting smile. But she went earnestly -on. - -“Of course I know it wasn't really long ago. Not if you measure it by -weeks. But if you measure it by human experience it was--well, years.” - -He was sober again; cheek on hand, gazing out into those lengthening, -deepening shadows. - -“That was what we quarreled about, John. I felt terribly upset. I was -blue--I can't tell you! Just the thought of all your life meant to you, -and how I seemed to be spoiling it.” - -A strong hand drew one of hers down and closed about it. “I'm going to -try to tell you something, dear,” he said. “You thought that what I said -to you, on the ship, was an expression of a real philosophy of life.” - -“But what else could it have been, John?” - -“It was just a chip--right here.” He raised her hand and with it patted -his shoulder. “It was what I'd tried for years to believe. I was bent on -believing it. You know, Betty, the thing we assert most positively isn't -our real faith. We don't have to assert that. It's likely to be -what we're trying to convince ourselves of.... I'm just beginning to -understand that, just lately, since you came into my life--and during -the fighting. I had to bolster myself up in the faith that a man can run -away, live alone, because it seemed to be the only basis on which I, as -I was, could deal with life. The only way I could get on at all. But you -see what happened to me. Life followed me and finally caught me, away -out here in China. No, you can't get away from it. You can't live -selfishly. It won't work. We're all in together. We've got to think -of the others..... I'm like a beginner now--going to school to life. -I don't even know what I believe. Not any more. I--I'm eager to learn, -from day to day. The only thing I'm sure of”... he turned, spoke with -breathless awe in his voice... “is that I love you, dear That's the -foundation on which my life has got to be built. It's my religion, I'm -afraid.” - -Betty's eyes filled; her little fingers twisted in among his; but she -didn't speak then. - -The shadows stretched farther and farther along the hillside. The sun, -a huge orange disc descending amid coppery strips of shining cloud, -touched the rim of the western hills; slid smoothly, slowly down behind -it, leaving a glowing vault of gold and rose and copper overhead and a -luminous haze in the valley. Off to the eastward, toward Shau T'ing and -the crumbling ruins of the Southern Wall (which still winds sinuously -for hundreds of miles in and out of the valleys, and over and around the -hills) the tumbling masses of upheaved rock and loess were deeply purple -against a luminous eastern sky. - -“Will you let me travel with you, John? I've thought that I could draw -while you write. Maybe I could even help you with your books. It would -be wonderful--exploring strange places. I'd like to go down through -Yunnan, and over the border into Siam and Assam and the Burmah country. -I've been reading about it, sitting in the hospital at night.” - -“There would be privation--and dangers.” - -“I don't care.” - -“You wouldn't be afraid?” - -“Not with you. And if--if anything happened to you, I'd want to go, -too.... Of course, there'd be other problems coming up. Don't think I'm -altogether impractical, dear.” - -“What are you thinking of?” - -She hesitated. “Children, John. I know we shan't either of us be -satisfied to live just for our happiness in each other. I couldn't help -thinking about that, watching you here, during the siege.” - -“No, we shan't.” - -“And with your work what it is--what it's got to be there's our first -problem.” - -“We'll have to take life as it comes.” - -“Yes, I know.” They were silent again. Gradually the brilliant color -was fading from the sky and the distant hills softening into mystery.... -“Father says that we'll find marriage a job--” - -“Oh, it's that!” - -“Full of surprises and compromises and giving up. He says it's very -difficult, but very wonderful.” - -“I should think,” said Brachey, his voice somewhat unsteady, “that it -would be the most wonderful job in the world. Its very complexities, the -nature of the demands it must make.” - -“I know!” - -After a long silence he asked, so abruptly that she looked swiftly up: - -“Do you ever pray, dear?” - -“Why--yes, I do.” - -“Will you teach me? I've tried--up here in the trenches. I've thought -that maybe I'd pick up a copy of the English prayer-book. They'd have it -at Shanghai or Tientsin....” - -2 - - -Dusk was mounting the hill-slopes. - -“It was a strange talk father and I had. Nearly all the afternoon--while -you were checking up ammunition and things. It's the first time he's -really sat down with me like that like a friend, I mean--and talked out, -just as he felt. Oh, he's been kind. But it's queer about father and -me. You see, when they sent me over to the States, I was really only a -child. Mother was dead then, you know. Father was always hoping to get -over to see me, but there was all the strain of building up the missions -after the Boxer trouble, and then he'd had his vacation. And he couldn't -afford to bring me out here just for the journey.” - -Brachey broke in here. “Did you ask him if he would marry us?” - -She nodded. “Yes. And he won't. That's partly what I'm going to tell -you. He's resigned.” - -“From the church?” - -“Yes. He thought of having Mr. Boatwright do it. But it seems that his -position is rather difficult. On account of his wife. She'll never be -friendly to us.” - -“Oh, no!” - -“I could see, though, that Dad was glad about our plan for an early -wedding. Of course, he's had me to think of, every minute. He did say -that the certain knowledge that I'm cared for will make it easier for -him to carry out his plans. But he wouldn't tell me what the plans are. -It's odd. He doesn't like to think of me as a responsibility. I could -see that. I mean, that he might have to do something he didn't believe -in in order to earn money for me. He said that he's been for years in -a false position. I never saw him so happy. He acts as if he'd been set -free.” - -“Perhaps he has,” Brachey reflected aloud. “It is strange--almost as if -we represented opposite swings of the pendulum, he and I. Perhaps we -do. I've not had enough responsibility, he's had too much. Probably one -extreme's as unhealthy as the other.” - -“I've worried some about him, John. But he begs me not to. He's planning -now to sell all his things.” - -“All?” - -“Everything. Books, even. And his desk, that he's had since the first -years out here. Mr. Withery is going to be in charge at T'ainan, and -Dad's leaving the final arrangements to him.” - -“You speak as if your father were going away, far off. And in a hurry.” - -“He is. That's the strange thing. Just to tell about it, like this, -makes it seem'--well, almost wild. But when you talk with him you feel -all right about it. He's so steady and sure. Just as if at last he's hit -on the truth.” - -The night drew its cloak swiftly over the valley. For a long time after -this conversation they sat there in silent communion with the dim hills; -she nestling in his arms; he dreaming of the years to come in which his -life--such was his hope--might through love find balance and warmth. - -3 - -Doane was at the residence when Brachey left Betty there--at the door, -chatting with M. Pourmont. He walked away with Brachey. And the tired -but still genial Frenchman looked after them with a puzzled frown. - -“Stroll a bit with me, will you?” said Doane. “I've got a few things to -say to you.” And outside the gate, he added soberly: “About the beastly -thing I did.” - -“I've forgotten that,” said Brachey; stiffly, in spite of himself. - -“No, you haven't. You never will. Neither shall I. What I have to say is -just this--it was an overwrought, half-mad man who attacked you.” - -“Of course, I've come to see that. All you'd been through.” - -“What I'd been through, Brachey, wasn't merely hardship, fighting, -wounds. It was something else, the wreck of my life. I'd had to stand -by, in a way, and look at the wreckage. I was doing the wrong thing, -living wrong, living a lie. For years I fought it, without being able -to see that I was fighting life itself. You see, Brachey, the power -of dogmatic thinking is great. It circumscribed my sense of truth for -years.” - -He fell silent for a moment, looking up at the stars. Then, simply, he -added this: - -“I want you to know the whole truth. I feel that it is due you. My -struggle ended in sin. The plainest kind--with a woman--and without a -shred of even human justification. Just degradation.... I can see now -that it was a terrific shock. It nearly pulled me under, very nearly. -They want me to stay in the church, but I can't, of course.” - -“No,” said Brachey, “you wouldn't want to do that.” - -“I couldn't. I went through the more or less natural morbid phases, of -course. That attack on you--” - -“That was partly exhaustion,” said Brachey. “You weren't in condition -to analyze a situation that would have been difficult for anybody. And -of course I was in the position of breaking my pledge to you.” - -“It was more than that, Brachey. The primitive resurgence in me simply -reached its climax then. No--let me have this out! I suspected you -because I had learned to suspect myself. That blow was a direct result -of my own sin. And I want you to know that I've come to see it for what -it was.” - -“H'm!” mused Brachey. They were standing by a pile of weathering -timbers, beside the old Chinese highway. “Shall we sit a while?” - Then--“I'd have to think about that.” Finally--“I don't know but what -your analysis is sound. But”--he mused longer, then, his voice clouded -with emotion, broke out with--“God, man, what you must have suffered! -And after our row.... I can't bear to think of it.” And then, quite -forgetting himself, he rested a hand on Doane's arm. It was perhaps the -first time in his adult life that he had done so demonstrative a thing. - -Doane compressed his lips, in the darkness, and stared away. - -“Oh, yes,” he replied, after a moment, “I've suffered, of course. I even -made a rather cowardly try at suicide.” - -“No--not--” - -“On my return from Shau T'ing I walked into the Looker lines in broad -daylight. I rather hoped to go out that way. But the fighting was over. -I couldn't even get killed.” - -He seemed as confiding as a child, this grave powerful man. And he was -Betty's father! Brachey was sensitively eager to help him. - -“Betty said you had new plans. I wonder if you would feel like telling -me of them.” - -“Yes. I've meant to.” - -“Are you going back to the States?” - -“No. Not now. Not with things like this. My worldly possessions, when -everything is sold, will probably come down to a thousand or fifteen -hundred dollars. My library is worth a good deal more than that, but -won't bring it. I have a little in cash; not much. I've estimated that -two hundred dollars--gold, not Mex.--will get me down to Shanghai -and tide me over the first few delays. I'm giving Betty the rest, and -arranging for Withery to turn over to her the proceeds of any sale.” - -“But what are you going to do down there?” - -“Work. Preferably, for a while, with my hands.” - -“You don't mean at common labor?” - -“Yes. Why not? I have a real gift for it. And I'm very strong.” - -“That would mean putting yourself with yellow coolies. The whites -wouldn't like it; probably they wouldn't let you. And you have a brain. -You're a trained executive.” - -“I won't take a small mental job. A large one---that would really keep -me busy--yes. But there'll be no chance of that at first. And I must -be fully occupied. I want to be outdoors. I may take up some branch of -engineering, by way of private study. But at the moment I really don't -care....” He smiled, in the dark. Brachey felt the smile in his voice -when he spoke again. “I was forty-five years old this spring, Brachey. -That's young, really. I have this great physical strength. And I'm free. -If I have sinned, I have really no bad habits. I probably shan't be -happy long without slipping my shoulders under some new burden--a good -heavy one. But don't you see how interesting it will be to start new, at -nothing, with nothing? What an adventure?” - -“It won't be with nothing, quite. There's your experience, your -mental equipment. With that, and health, and a little luck you can do -anything.” - -“Yes,” said Doane, “it is, after all, a clean start. I've been terribly -shaken.” - -“So have I,” said Brachey gently. “And I'm starting new, too.” He rose; -stood for a moment quietly thinking; then turned and extended his hand. -“Mr. Doane, here we are, meeting at life's crossroads. You're starting -out on something pretty like my old road, and I'm starting on a road not -altogether unlike yours. The next few years are going to mean everything -to each of us. And what we both do with our lives is going to mean -everything to Betty. Let's, between us, make Betty happy.” His voice was -a little out of control, but he went resolutely on. “Let's, between us, -help her to grow--enrich her life all we can--give her every chance to -develop into the woman your daughter has a right to become!” - -Doane sprang up; stood over him; enveloped his hand in a huge fist and -nearly crushed it. - -4 - -The Reverend Henry Withery came in that night, on a shaggy Manchu pony, -with his luggage behind on a cart. And late the following afternoon a -wedding took place at the residence. A great event was made of it by -the young people of the compound. The hills were searched for flowers. -A surprising array of presents appeared. Mrs. Boatwright was prevented -from attending by a severe headache, but her husband, at the last -moment, came. The other T'ainan folk were there. His Excellency, Pao -Ting Chuan, with fifteen attendant mandarins, in full official costume, -among whom was Mr. Po Sui-an, lent the color of Oriental splendor to the -occasion. His Excellency's gift was a necklace of jade with a pendant of -ancient worked gold. Withery performed the ceremony; and Griggsby Doane -gave the bride. - -The young couple were leaving in the morning for Peking, at which city -the groom purposed continuing for the present his study of the elements -of unrest in China. - -Directly after the wedding and reception a remarkably elaborate dinner -was served in the large diningroom, at winch Griggsby Doane appeared for -a brief time to join in the merrymaking with an appearance of _savoir -faire_ that M. Pourmont, shrewdly taking in, found reassuring; but he -early took a quiet leave. - -At dusk, after the talking machine had been turned on and the many young -men were dancing enthusiastically with the few young women, the newly -wedded couple slipped out and walked down to the gate. Here, outside in -the purple shadows, they waited until a huge man appeared, dressed in -knickerbockers, a knapsack on his back and a weatherbeaten old walking -stick in his hand. - -The bride clung to him for a long moment. The groom wrung his hand. -Then the two stood, arm in arm, looking after him as he descended to -the highroad and strode firmly, rapidly eastward, disappearing in the -village and reappearing on the slope beyond, waving a final farewell -with stick and cap--very dimly they could see him--just before he -stepped through the old scenic arch at the top of the hill. - - -THE END - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hills of Han, by Samuel Merwin - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILLS OF HAN *** - -***** This file should be named 53997-0.txt or 53997-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/9/53997/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Hills of Han - A Romantic Incident - -Author: Samuel Merwin - -Illustrator: Walt Louderback - -Release Date: January 18, 2017 [EBook #53997] -Last Updated: May 5, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILLS OF HAN *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - HILLS OF HAN - </h1> - <h3> - A Romantic Incident - </h3> - <h2> - By Samuel Merwin - </h2> - <h3> - Illustrated by Walt Louderback - </h3> - <h4> - Indianapolis - </h4> - <h5> - The Bobbs. Merrill Company Publishers - </h5> - <h3> - 1919 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0011.jpg" alt="0011 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0011.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p class="indent30"> - Hills of Han, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Slumber on! The sunlight, dying, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Lingers on your terraced tops; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Yellow stream and willow sighing, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Field of twice ten thousand crops - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Breathe their misty lullabying, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Breathe a life that nei'er stops. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Spin your chart of ancient wonder, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Fold your hands within your sleeve, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Live and let live, work and ponder, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Be tradition, dream, believe... - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - So abides your ancient plan, - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Hills of Han! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Hills of Han, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - What's this filament goes leaping - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Pole to pole and hill to hill? - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - What these strips of metal creeping - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Where the dead have lain so still. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - What this wilder thought that's seeping - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Where was peace and gentle will? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Smoke of mill on road and river, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Roar of steam by temple wall... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Drop the arrow in the quiver... - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Bow to Buddha.... All is all! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Slumber they who slumber can, - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Hills of Han! - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> NOTE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>HILLS OF HAN</b> </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—THE SOLITARY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II—ROMANCE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III—THE SHEPHERD </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV—THE RIDDLE OF LIFE, AND OF DEATH - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V—IN T'AINAN </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—CATASTROPHE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII—LOVE IS A TROUBLE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII—THE WAYFARER </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX—KNOTTED LIVES </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—GRANITE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI—EMOTION </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII—STORM CENTER </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—THE PLEDGE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV—DILEMMA </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV—THE HILLS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI—DESTINY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII—APPARITION </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—THE DARK </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX—LIVING THROUGH </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX—LIGHT </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI—THE SOULS OF MEN </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII—BEGINNINGS </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - NOTE - </h2> - <p> - The slight geographical confusion which will be found by the observant - reader in <i>Hills of Han</i> is employed as a reminder that the story, - despite considerable elements of fact in the background, is a work of the - imagination, and deals with no actual individuals of the time and place. - S. M. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - HILLS OF HAN - </h1> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I—THE SOLITARY - </h2> - <h3> - I - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N a day in late - March, 1907, Miss Betty Doane sat in the quaintly airy dining-room of the - Hotel Miyaka, at Kioto, demurely sketching a man's profile on the back of - a menu card. - </p> - <p> - The man, her unconscious model, lounged comfortably alone by one of the - swinging windows. He had finished his luncheon, pushed away his coffee - cup, lighted a cigarette, and settled back to gaze out at the hillside - where young green grasses and gay shrubs and diminutive trees bore - pleasant evidence that the early Japanese springtime was at hand. - </p> - <p> - Betty could even see, looking out past the man, a row of cherry trees, all - afoam with blossoms. They brought a thrill that was almost poignant. It - was curious, at home—or, rather, back in the States—there was - no particular thrill in cherry blossoms. They were merely pleasing. But so - much more was said about them here in Japan. - </p> - <p> - The man's head was long and well modeled, with a rugged long face, - reflective eyes, somewhat bony nose, and a wide mouth that was, on the - whole, attractive. Both upper lip and chin were dean shaven. The eyebrows - were rather heavy; the hair was thick and straight, slanting down across a - broad forehead. She decided, as she sketched it in with easy sure strokes - of a stubby pencil, that he must have quite a time every morning brushing - that hair down into place. - </p> - <p> - He had appeared, a few days back, at the Grand Hotel, Yokohama, coming in - from somewhere north of Tokio. At the hotel he had walked and eaten alone, - austerely. And, not unnaturally, had been whispered about. He was, Betty - knew, a journalist of some reputation. The name was Jonathan Brachey. He - wore an outing suit, with knickerbockers; he was, in bearing, as in - costume, severely conspicuous. You thought of him as a man of odd - attainment. He had been in many interesting corners of the world; had - known danger and privation. Two of his books were in the ship's library. - One of these she had already taken out and secreted in her cabin. It was - called <i>To-morrow in India</i>, and proved rather hard to read, with - charts, diagrams and pages of figures. - </p> - <p> - The sketch was about done; all but the nose. When you studied that nose in - detail it seemed a little too long and strong, and—well, knobby—to - be as attractive as it actually was. There would be a trick in drawing it; - a shadow or two, a suggestive touch of the pencil; not so many real knobs. - In the ship's diningroom she had his profile across an aisle. There would - be chances to study it. - </p> - <p> - Behind her, in the wide doorway, appeared a stout, short woman of fifty or - more, in an ample and wrinkled traveling suit of black and a black straw - hat ornamented only with a bow of ribbon. Her face wore an anxious - expression that had settled, years back, into permanency. The mouth - drooped a little. And the brows were lifted and the forehead grooved with - wrinkles suggesting some long habitual straining of the eyes that recent - bifocal spectacles were powerless to correct. - </p> - <p> - “Betty!” called the older woman guardedly. “Would you mind, dear... one - moment...?” - </p> - <p> - Her quick, nervous eyes had caught something of the situation. There was - Betty and—within easy earshot—a man. The child was - unquestionably sketching him. - </p> - <p> - Betty's eagerly alert young face fell at the sound. She stopped drawing; - for a brief instant chewed the stubby pencil; then, quite meekly, rose and - walked toward the door. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Hasmer is outside. I thought you were with him. Betty.” - </p> - <p> - “No... I didn't know your plans... I was waiting here.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, my dear... it's all right, of course! But I think we'll go now. Mr. - Hasmer thinks you ought to see at least one of the temples. Something - typical. And of course you will want to visit the cloisonné and <i>satsuma</i> - shops, and see the Damascene work. The train leaves for Kobe at - four-fifteen. The ships sails at about eight, I believe. We haven't much - time, you see.” - </p> - <p> - A chair scraped. Jonathan Brachey had picked up his hat, his pocket camera - and his unread copy of the Japan <i>Times</i>, and was striding toward - her, or toward the door. He would pass directly by, of course, without so - much as a mental recognition of her existence. For so he had done at - Yokohama; so he had done last evening and again this morning on the ship. - </p> - <p> - But on this occasion, as he bore down on her, the eyes of the - distinguished young man rested for an instant on the table, and for a - brief moment he wavered in his stride. He certainly saw the sketch. It lay - where she had carelessly tossed it, face up, near the edge of the table. - And he certainly recognized it for himself; for his strong facial muscles - moved a very little. It couldn't have been called a smile; but those - muscles distinctly moved. Then, as coolly as before, he strode on out of - the room. - </p> - <p> - Betty's cheeks turned crimson. A further fact doubtless noted by this - irritatingly, even arrogantly composed man. - </p> - <p> - Betty, with desperate dignity, put the sketch in her wrist bag, followed - Mrs. Hasmer out of the building, and stepped into the rickshaw that - awaited her. - </p> - <p> - The brown-legged coolie tucked the robe about her, stepped in between the - shafts of the vehicle; a second coolie fell into place behind, and they - were off down the hill. Just ahead, Mrs. Hasmer's funny little hat bobbed - with the inequalities of the road. Just behind, Doctor Hasmer, a calm, - patient man who taught philosophy and history in a Christian college - fifteen hundred miles or more up the Yangtse River and who never could - remember to have his silvery beard trimmed, smiled kindly at her when she - turned. - </p> - <p> - And behind him, indifferent to all the human world, responsive in his - frigid way only to the beauties of the Japanese country-side and of the - quaint, gray-brown, truly ancient city extending up and down the valley by - its narrow, stone-walled stream, rode Mr. Jonathan Brachey. - </p> - <p> - The coolies, it would seem, had decided to act in concert. From shop to - shop among the crowded little streets went the four rickshaws. Any mere - human being (so ran Betty's thoughts) would have accepted good-humoredly - the comradeship implied in this arrangement on the part of a playful fate; - but Mr. Brachey was no mere human being. Side by side stood the four of - them in a toy workshop looking down at toy-like artisans with shaved and - tufted heads who wore quaint robes and patiently beat out designs in gold - and silver wire on expertly fashioned bronze boxes and bowls. They - listened as one to the thickly liquid English of a smiling merchant - explaining the processes and expanding on the history of fine handiwork in - this esthetic land. Yet by no sign did Mr. Brachey's face indicate that he - was aware of their presence; except once—on a crooked stairway in a - cloisonné shop he flattened himself against the wall to let them pass, - muttering, almost fiercely, “I beg your pardon!” - </p> - <p> - The moment came, apparently, when he could endure this enforced - companionship no longer. He spoke gruffly to his rickshaw coolies, and - rolled off alone. When they finally reached the railway station after a - half-hour spent in wandering about the spacious enclosure of the Temple of - Nishi Otani, with its huge, shadowy gate house, its calm priests, its - exquisite rock garden under ancient mystical trees—the tall - journalist was pacing the platform, savagely smoking a pipe. - </p> - <p> - At Kobe they were united again, riding out to the ship's anchorage in the - same launch. But Mr. Brachey gave no sign of recognition. He disappeared - the moment of arrival at the ship, reappearing only when the bugle - announced dinner, dressed, as he had been each evening at the Grand Hotel - and the previous evening on the ship, rather stiffly, in dinner costume. - </p> - <p> - Then the ship moved out from her anchorage into that long, island-studded, - green-bordered body of water known as the Inland Sea of Japan. Early on - the second morning she would slip in between the closepressing hills that - guard Nagasaki harbor. There another day ashore. Then three days more - across the Yellow Sea to Shanghai. Thence, for the Hasmers and Betty, a - five-day journey by steamer up the muddy but majestic Yangtze Kiang to - Hankow; at which important if hardly charming city they would separate, - the Hasmers to travel on by other, smaller steamer to Ichang and thence on - up through the Gorges to their home among the yellow folk of Szechwan, - while Hetty, from Hankow, must set out into an existence that her highly - colored young mind found it impossible to face squarely. As yet, despite - the long journey across the American continent and the Pacific, she hadn't - begun so much as to believe the facts. Though there they stood, squarely - enough, before her. It had been easier to surrender her responsive, rather - easily gratified emotions to a day-by-day enjoyment of the journey itself. - When the constant, worried watchfulness of Mrs. Hasmer reached the point - of annoyance—not that Mrs. Hasmer wasn't an old dear; kindness - itself, especially if your head ached or you needed a little mothering!—why - then, with the easy adaptability and quick enthusiasm of youth, she simply - busied herself sketching. The top layer of her steamer trunk was nearly - full now—sketches of the American desert, of the mountains and San - Francisco, of people on the ship, of the sea and of Honolulu. - </p> - <p> - But now, with Yokohama back among the yesterdays and Kobe falling rapidly, - steadily astern, Betty's heart was as rapidly and as steadily sinking. - Only one more stop, and then—China. In China loomed the facts. - </p> - <p> - That night, lying in her berth, Betty, forgot the cherry blossoms of Kioto - and the irritating Mr. Brachey. Her thoughts dwelt among the young - friends, the boy-and-girl “crowd,” she had left behind, far off, at the - other edge of those United States that by a queerly unreal theory were her - home-land. And, very softly, she cried herself to sleep. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>etty Doane was - just nineteen. She was small, quick to feel and think, dark rather than - light (though not an out-and-out brunette). She was distinctly pretty. Her - small head with its fine and abundant hair, round face with its ever-ready - smile, alert brown eyes and curiously strong little chin expressed, as did - her slim quick body, a personality of considerable sprightly vigor and of - a charm that could act on certain other sorts of personalities, - particularly of the opposite sex, with positive, telling effect. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hasmer, who had undertaken, with misgivings, to bring her from - suburban New Jersey to Hankow, found her a heavy responsibility. It wasn't - that the child was insubordinate, forward, or, in anyway that you could - blame her for, difficult. On the contrary, she was a dear little thing, - kind, always amusing, eager to please. But none the less there was - something, a touch of vital quality, perhaps of the rare gift of - expressiveness, that gave her, at times, a rather alarming aspect. Her - clothes were simple enough—Griggsby Doane, goodness knew, couldn't - afford anything else—but in some way that Mrs. Hasmer would never - fully understand, the child always managed to make them look better than - they were. She had something of the gift of smartness. She had, Mrs. - Hasmer once came out with, “too much imagination.” The incessant - sketching, for instance. And she did it just a shade too well. Then, too, - evening after evening during the three weeks on the Pacific, she had - danced. Which was, from the only daughter of Griggsby Doane—well, - confusing. And though Mrs. Hasmer, balked by the delicacy of her position, - had gone to lengths in concealing her disapproval, she had been unable to - feign surprise at the resulting difficulties. Betty had certainly not been - deliberate in leading on any of the men on the ship; young men, by the way - that you had no means of looking up, even so far as the certainty that - they were unmarried. But the young mining engineer on his way to Korea had - left quite heart-broken. From all outer indications he had proposed - marriage and met with a refusal. But not a word, not a hint, not so much - as a telltale look, came from Betty. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hasmer sighed over it. She would have liked to know. She came to the - conclusion that Betty had been left just a year or so too long in the - States. They weren't serious over there, in the matter of training girls - for the sober work of life. Prosperity, luxury, were telling on the - younger generations. No longer were they guarded from dangerously free - thinking. They read, heard, saw everything; apparently knew everything. - They read openly, of a Sunday, books which, a generation earlier, would - not have reached their eyes even on a week-day. The church seemed to have - lost its hold (though she never spoke aloud of this fact). Respect for - tradition and authority had crumbled away. They questioned, weighed - everything, these modern children.... Mrs. Hasmer worried a good deal, out - in China, about young people in the States. - </p> - <p> - But under these surface worries, lurked, in the good woman's mind, a - deeper, more real worry. Betty was just stepping over the line between - girlhood and young womanhood. She was growing more attractive daily. She - was anything but fitted to step into the life that lay ahead. Wherever she - turned, even now—as witness the Pacific ship—life took on - fresh complications. Indeed, Mrs. Hasmer, pondering the problem, came down - on the rather strong word, peril. A young girl—positive in - attractiveness, gifted, spirited, motherless (as it happened), trained - only to be happy in living—was in something near peril. - </p> - <p> - One fact which Mrs. Hasmer's mind had been forced to accept was that most - of the complications came from sources or causes with which the girl - herself had little consciously to do. She was flatly the sort of person to - whom things happened. Even when her eager interest in life and things and - men (young and old) was not busy. - </p> - <p> - In the matter of the rather rude young man in knickerbockers, at Kioto, - Betty was to blame, of course. She had set to work to sketch him. - Evidently. The most you could say for her on that point was that she would - have set just as intently at sketching an old man, or a woman, or a child—or - a corner of the room. Mrs. Hasmer had felt, while on the train to Kobe, - that she must speak of the matter. After all, she had that deathly - responsibility on her shoulders. Betty's only explanation, rather gravely - given, had been that she found his nose interesting. - </p> - <p> - The disturbing point was that something in the way of a situation was sure - to develop from the incident. Something. Six weeks of Betty made that a - reasonable assumption. And the first complication would arise in some - quite unforeseen way. Betty wouldn't bring it about. Indeed, she had - quickly promised not to sketch him any more. - </p> - <p> - This is the way it did arise. At eleven on the following morning Mr. and - Mrs. Hasmer and Betty were stretched out side by side in their steamer - chairs, sipping their morning beef tea and looking out at the rugged north - shore of the Inland Sea. Beyond Betty were three vacant chairs, then this - Mr. Brachey—his long person wrapped in a gay plaid rug. He too was - sipping beef tea and enjoying the landscape; if so dry, so solitary a - person could be said to enjoy anything. A note-book lay across his knees. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hasmer had thought, with a momentary flutter of concern, of moving - Betty to the other side of Doctor Hasmer. But that had seemed foolish. - Making too much of it. Betty hadn't placed the chairs; the deck steward - had done that. Besides she hadn't once looked at the man; probably hadn't - thought of him; had been quite absorbed in her sketching—bits of the - hilly shore, an island mirrored in glass, a becalmed junk. - </p> - <p> - A youngish man, hatless, with blond curls and a slightly professional - smile, came up from the after hatch and advanced along the deck, eagerly - searching the row of rug-wrapped, recumbent figures in deck chairs. Before - the Hasmers he stopped with delighted greetings. It came out that he was a - Mr. Harting, a Y. M. C. A. worker in Bttrmah, traveling second-class. - </p> - <p> - “I hadn't seen the passenger list, Mrs. Hasmer, and didn't know you were - aboard. But there's a Chinese boy sitting next to me at table. He has put - in a year or so at Tokio University, and speaks a little English. He comes - from your city, Miss Doane. Or so he seems to think. T'ainan-fu.” - </p> - <p> - Betty inclined her head. - </p> - <p> - “It was he who showed me the passenger list. At one time, he says, he - lived in your father's household.” - </p> - <p> - “What is his name?” asked Betty politely. - </p> - <p> - “Li Hsien—something or other.” Mr. Harting was searching his pockets - for a copy of the list. - </p> - <p> - “I knew Li Hsien very well,” said Betty. “We used to play together.” - </p> - <p> - “So I gathered. May I bring him up here to see you?” - </p> - <p> - Betty would have replied at once in the affirmative, but six weeks of - companionship with Mrs. Hasmer had taught her that such decisions were not - expected of her. So now with a vague smile of acquiescence, she directed - the inquiry to the older woman. - </p> - <p> - “Certainly,” cried Mrs. Hasmer, “do bring him!” - </p> - <p> - As he moved away, Betty, before settling back in her chair, glanced, once, - very demurely, to her left, where Jonathan Brachey lay in what might have - been described, from outer appearances, supercilious comfort. - </p> - <p> - He hadn't so much as lifted an eyelid. He wasn't listening. He didn't - care. It was nothing to him that Betty Doane was no idle, spoiled girl - tourist, nothing that she could draw with a gifted pencil, nothing that - she knew Chinese students at Tokio University, and herself lived at - T'ainan-fu!... It wasn't that Betty consciously formulated any such - thoughts. But the man had an effect on her; made her uncomfortable; she - wished he'd move his chair around to the other side of the ship. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>i Hsien proved to - be quite a young man, all of twenty or twenty-one. He had spectacles now, - and gold in his teeth. He wore the conventional blue robe, Liack skull-cap - with red button, and queue. More than four years were yet to elapse before - the great revolution of 1911, with its wholesale queue-cutting and its - rather frantic adoption, on the part of the better-to-do, of Western - clothing—or, rather, of what they supposed was Western clothing.... - He was tall, slim, smiling. He shook hands with Betty, Western fashion; - and bowed with courtly dignity to Doctor and Mrs. Hasmer. - </p> - <p> - His manner had an odd effect on Betty. For six years now she had lived in - Orange. She had passed through the seventh and eighth grades of the public - school and followed that with a complete course of four years in high - school. She had fallen naturally and whole-heartedly into the life of a - nice girl in an American suburb. She had gone to parties, joined - societies, mildly entangled herself with a series of boy admirers. Despite - moderate but frank poverty she had been popular. And in this healthy, - active young life she had very nearly forgotten the profoundly different - nature of her earlier existence. But now that earlier feeling for life was - coming over her like a wave. After all, her first thirteen years had been - lived out in a Chinese city. And they were the most impressionable years. - </p> - <p> - It was by no means a pleasant sensation. She had never loved China; had - simply endured it, knowing little else. America she loved. It was of her - blood, of her instinct. But now it was abruptly slipping out of her grasp—school, - home, the girls, the boys, long evenings of chatter and song on a “front - porch,” picnics on that ridge known locally as “the mountain,” matinées in - New York, glorious sunset visions of high buildings from a ferry-boat, a - thrilling, ice-caked river in winter-time, the misty beauties of the - Newark meadows—all this was curiously losing its vividness in her - mind, and drab old China was slipping stealthily but swiftly into its - place. - </p> - <p> - She knit her brows. She was suddenly helpless, in a poignantly - disconcerting way. A word came—rootless. That was it; she was - rootless. For an instant she had to fight back the tears that seldom came - in the daytime. - </p> - <p> - But then she looked again at Li Hsien. - </p> - <p> - He was smiling. It came to her, fantastically, that he, too, was rootless. - And yet he smiled. She knew, instantly, that his feelings were quite as - fine as hers. He was sensitive, strung high. He had been that sort of boy. - For that matter the Chinese had been a cultured people when the whites - were crude barbarians. She knew that. She couldn't have put it into words, - but she knew it. And so she, too, smiled. And when she spoke, asking him - to sit in the vacant chair next to her, she spoke without a thought, in - Chinese, the middle Hansi dialect. - </p> - <p> - And then Mr. Jonathan Brachey looked up, turned squarely around and stared - at her for one brief instant. After which he recollected himself and - turned abruptly back. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Harting dropped down on the farther side of Doctor Hasmer. Which left - his good wife between the two couples, each now deep in talk. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hasmer's Chinese vocabulary was confined to a limited number of - personal and household terms; and even these were in the dialect of - eastern Szechwan. Just as a matter of taste, of almost elementary taste, - it seemed to her that Betty should keep the conversation, or most of it, - in English. She went so far as to lean over the arm of her chair and smile - in a perturbed manner at the oddly contrasting couple who chatted so - easily and pleasantly in the heathen tongue. She almost reached the point - of speaking to Betty; gently, of course. But the girl clearly had no - thought of possible impropriety. She was laughing now—apparently at - some gap in her vocabulary—and the bland young man with the - spectacles and the pigtail was humorously supplying the proper word. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hasmer decided not to speak. She lay hack in her chair. The wrinkles - in her forehead deepened a little. On the other side Mr. Halting was - describing enthusiastically a new and complicated table that was equipped - with every imaginable device for the demonstrating of experiments in - physics to Burmese youth. It could be packed, he insisted, for transport - from village to village, in a crate no larger than the table itself. - </p> - <p> - And now, again, she caught the musical intonation of the young Chinaman. - Betty, surprisingly direct and practical in manner if unintelligible in - speech, was asking questions, which Li Hsien answered in turn, easily, - almost languidly, but with unfailing good nature. Though there were a few - moments during which he spoke rapidly and rather earnestly. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hasmer next became aware of the odd effect the little scene was - plainly having on Jonathan Brachey. He fidgeted in his chair; got up and - stood at the rail; paced the deck, twice passing close to the comfortably - extended feet of the Hasmer party and so ostentatiously <i>not</i> looking - at them as to distract momentarily the attention even of the deeply - engrossed Betty. Mr. Harting, even, looked up. After all of which the man, - looking curiously stern, or irritated, or (Betty decided) something - unpleasant, sat again in his chair. - </p> - <p> - Then, a little later, Mr. Harting and Li Hsien took their leave and - returned to the second-class quarters, astern. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hasmer thought, for a moment, that perhaps now was the time to - suggest that English be made the common tongue in the future. But Betty's - eager countenance disarmed her. She sighed. And sighed again; for the - girl, stirred by what she was saying, had unconsciously raised her voice. - And that tall man was listening. - </p> - <p> - “It's queer how fast things are changing out here,” thus Betty. “Li Hsien - is—you'd never guess!—a Socialist! I asked him why he isn't - staying out the year at Tokio University, and he said he was called home - to help the Province. Think of it—that boy! They've got into some - trouble over a foreign mining syndicate—” - </p> - <p> - “The Ho Shan Company,” explained Doctor Hasmer. - </p> - <p> - Betty nodded. - </p> - <p> - “They've been operating rather extensively in Plonan and southern Chihli,” - the educator continued, “and I heard last year that they've made a fresh - agreement with the Imperial Government giving them practically a monopoly - of the coal and iron mining up there in the Hansi Hills.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Doctor Hasmer, and he says that there's a good deal of feeling in - the province. They've had one or two mass meetings of the gentry and - people. He thinks they'll send a protest to Peking. He believes that the - company got the agreement through bribery.” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all unlikely,” remarked Doctor Hasmer mildly. “I don't know that - any other way has yet been discovered of obtaining commercial privileges - from the Imperial Government. The Ho Shan Company is... let me see... as I - recall, it was organized by that Italian promoter, Count Logatti. I - believe he went to Germany, Belgium and France for the capital.” - </p> - <p> - “Li has become an astonishing young man,” said Betty more gravely. “He - talks about revolutions and republics. He doesn't think the Manchus can - last much longer. The southern provinces are ready for the revolution now, - he says—” - </p> - <p> - “That,” remarked Doctor Hasmer, “is a little sweeping.” - </p> - <p> - “Li is very sweeping,” replied Betty. “And he's going back now to - T'ainan-fu for some definite reason. I couldn't make out what. I asked if - he would be coming in to see father, and he said, probably not; that there - wouldn't be any use in it. Then I asked him if he was still a Christian, - and I think he laughed at me. He wouldn't say.” - </p> - <p> - The conversation was broken by the appearance of a pleasant Englishman, an - importer of silks, by the name of Obie. He had been thrown with the - Hasmers and Betty in one of their sight-seeing jaunts about Tokio. Mr. - Obie wore spats, and a scarf pin and cuff links of human bone from Borneo - set in circlets of beaded gold. His light, usually amusing talk was - liberally sprinkled with crisp phrases in pidgin-English. - </p> - <p> - He spoke now of the beauties of the Inland Sea, and resumed his stroll - about the deck. After a few turns, he went into the smoking-room. - </p> - <p> - Jonathan Brachey, still with that irritably nervous manner, watched him - intently; finally got up and followed him, passing the Hasmers and Betty - with nose held high. - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was early - afternoon, when Mrs. Hasmer and Betty were dozing in their chairs, that - Mr. Obie, looking slightly puzzled, came again to them. He held a card - between thumb and forefinger. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Doane,” he said, “this gentleman asks permission to be presented.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hasmer's hand went out a little way to receive the card; but Betty - innocently took it. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Jonathan Brachey,” she read aloud. Then added, with a pretty touch of - color—“But how funny! He was with us yesterday, and <i>wouldn't</i> - talk. And now....” - </p> - <p> - “My go catchee?” asked Mr. Obie. - </p> - <p> - To which little pleasantry Betty responded, looking very bright and - pretty, with—“Can do!” - </p> - <p> - “She gives out too much,” thought Mrs. Hasmer; deciding then and there - that the meeting should be brief and the conversation triangular. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Obie brought him, formally, from the smoking-room. - </p> - <p> - He bowed stiffly. Betty checked her natural impulse toward a hearty - hard-grip. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hasmer, feeling hurried, a thought breathless, meant to offer him her - husband's chair; but all in the moment Betty had him down beside her. - </p> - <p> - Then came stark silence. The man stared out at the islands. - </p> - <p> - Betty, finding her portfolio on her lap, fingered it. Then this: - </p> - <p> - “I must begin, Miss Doane, with an apology....” - </p> - <p> - Betty's responsive face blanched. “What a dreadful man!” she thought. His - voice was rather strong, dry, hard, with, even, a slight rasp in it. - </p> - <p> - But he drove heavily on: - </p> - <p> - “This morning, while not wishing to appear as an eavesdropper... that is - to say... the fact is, Miss Doane, I am a journalist, and am at present on - my way to China to make an investigation of the political—one might - even term it the social—unrest that appears to be cropping out - rather extensively in the southern provinces and even, a little here and - there, in the North.” - </p> - <p> - He was dreadful! Stilted, clumsy, slow! He hunted painstakingly for words; - and at each long pause Betty's quick young nerves tightened and tightened, - mentally groping with him until the hunted word was run to earth. - </p> - <p> - He was pounding on: - </p> - <p> - “This morning I overheard you talking with that young Chinaman. It is - evident that you speak the language.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh. yes,” Betty found herself saying, “I do.” - </p> - <p> - Not a word about the drawing. - </p> - <p> - “This young man, I gather, is in sympathy with the revolutionary spirit.” - </p> - <p> - “He—he seems to be,” said Betty. - </p> - <p> - “Now... Miss Doane... this is of course an imposition...” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no,” breathed Betty weakly. - </p> - <p> - “... it is, of course, an imposition... it would be a service I could - perhaps never repay...” This pause lasted so long that she heard herself - murmuring, “No, really, not at all!”—and then felt the color - creeping to her face... but if I might ask you to... but let me put it in - this way—the young man is precisely the type I have come out here to - study. You speak in the vernacular, and evidently understand him almost as - a native might. It is unlikely I shall find in China many such natural - interpreters as yourself. And of course... if it is thinkable that you - would be so extremely kind as to... why, of course, I...” - </p> - <p> - “Heavens!” thought Betty, in a panic, “he's going to offer to pay me. I - mustn't be rude.” - </p> - <p> - The man plodded on: “... why, of course, it would be a real pleasure to - mention your assistance in the preface of my book.” - </p> - <p> - It was partly luck, luck and innate courtesy, that she didn't laugh aloud. - She broke, as it was, into words, saving herself and the situation. - </p> - <p> - “You want me to act as interpreter? Of course Li knows a little English.” - </p> - <p> - “Would he—er—know enough English for serious conversation?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” mused Betty aloud, “I don't think he would.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course, Miss Doane, I quite realize that to take up your time in this - way....” - </p> - <p> - There he stopped. He was frowning now, and apparently studying out the - structural details of a huge junk that lay only a few hundred yards away, - reflected minutely, exquisitely—curving hull and deck cargo, - timbered stern, bat-wing sails—in the glass-like water. - </p> - <p> - “I'll be glad to do what I can,” said Betty, helplessly. Then, for the - first time, she became aware that Mrs. Hasmer was stirring uncomfortably - on her other hand, and added, quickly, as much out of nervousness as - anything else—“We could arrange to have Li come up here in the - morning.” - </p> - <p> - “We shall be coaling at Nagasaki in the morning,” said he, abruptly, as if - that settled <i>that</i>. - </p> - <p> - “Well, of course,... this afternoon.... - </p> - <p> - “My dear,” began Mrs. Hasmer. - </p> - <p> - “This afternoon would be better.” Thus Mr. Brachey. “Though I can not tell - you what hesitation...” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose we could find a quiet corner somewhere,” said Betty. “In the - social hall, perhaps.” - </p> - <p> - It was then, stirred to positive act, that Mrs. Hasmer spoke out. - </p> - <p> - “I think you'd better stay out here with us, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - To which the hopelessly self-absorbed Mr. Brachey replied: - </p> - <p> - “I really must have quiet for this work. We will sit inside, if you don't - mind.” - </p> - <h3> - 5 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t half past four - Mrs. Hasmer sent her husband to look into the situation. He reported that - they were hard at it. Betty looked a little tired, but was laboriously - repeating Li Hsien's words, in English, in order that Mr. Brachcy might - take them down in what appeared to be a sort of shorthand. Doctor Hasmer - didn't see how he could say anything. Not very well. They hadn't so much - as noticed him, though he stood near by for a few moments. - </p> - <p> - Which report Mrs. Hasmer found masculine and unsatisfactory. At five she - went herself; took her Battenberg hoop and sat near by. Betty saw her, and - smiled. She looked distinctly a little wan. - </p> - <p> - The journalist ignored Mrs. Hasmer. He was a merciless driver. Whenever - Betty's attention wandered, as it had begun doing, he put his questions - bruskly, even sharply, to call her back to the task. - </p> - <p> - Four bells sounded, up forward. Mrs. Hasmer started; and, as always when - she heard the ship's bell, consulted her watch. Six o'clock!... She put - down her hoop; fidgetted; got up; sat down again; told herself she must - consider the situation calmly. It must be taken in hand, of course. The - man was a mannerless brute. He had distinctly encroached. He would - encroach further. He must be met firmly, at once. She tried to think - precisely how he could be met. - </p> - <p> - She got up again; stood over them. She didn't know that her face was a - lens through which any and all might read her perturbed spirit. - </p> - <p> - Betty glanced up; smiled faintly; drew a long breath. - </p> - <p> - Li Hsien rose and bowed, clasping his hands before his breast. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bradley was writing. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Hasmer had tried to construct a little speech that, however final, - would meet the forms of courtesy. It left her now. She said with blank - firmness: - </p> - <p> - “Come, Betty!” - </p> - <p> - “One moment!” protested Mr. Brachey. “Will you please ask him, Miss Duane, - whether he believes that the general use of opium has appreciably lowered - the vitality of the Chinese people? That is, to put it conversely, whether - the curtailment of production is going to leave a people too weakened to - act strongly in a military or even political way? Surveying the empire as - a whole, of course.” - </p> - <p> - Betty's thoughts, which had wandered hopelessly afield, came struggling - back. - </p> - <p> - “I—I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm afraid I didn't quite hear.” - </p> - <p> - “I must ask you to come with me, Betty,” said Mrs. Hasmer. - </p> - <p> - At this, looking heavily disappointed, Mr. Brachey rose; ran a long bony - hand through his thick hair. - </p> - <p> - “We could take it up in the morning,” he said, turning from the bland - young Chinaman to the plainly confused girl. “That is, if Miss Doane - wouldn't mind staying on the ship. I presume she has seen Nagasaki.” - </p> - <p> - His perturbed eyes moved at last to the little elderly lady who had seemed - so colorless and mild; met hers, which were, of a sudden, snapping coals. - </p> - <p> - “You will not take it up again, sir!” cried Mrs. Hasmer; and left with the - girl. - </p> - <p> - The Chinaman smiled, clasped his hands, bowed with impenetrable courtesy, - and withdrew' to his quarters. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Brachey, alone, looked over his notes with a frown; shook his head; - went down to dress for dinner. - </p> - <h3> - 6 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ate that night - Betty sat in her tiny stateroom, indulging rebellious thoughts. It was - time, after an awkwardly silent evening, to go to bed. But instead she now - slipped into her heavy traveling coat, pulled on her tam-o'-shanter, - tiptoed past the Hasmers' door and went out on deck. - </p> - <p> - It was dim and peaceful there. The throb of the engines and the wash of - water along the hull were the only sounds. They were in the strait now, - heading out to sea. - </p> - <p> - She walked around the deck, and around. It was her first free moment since - they left the Pacific ship at Yokohama. After that very quietly—sweetly, - even—the chaperonage of Mrs. Hasmer had tightened. For Betty the - experience was new and difficult. She felt that she ought to submit. But - the rebellion in her breast, if wrong, was real. She would walk it off. - </p> - <p> - Then she met Mr. Brachey coming out of the smoking-room. Both stopped. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” said he. - </p> - <p> - “I was just getting a breath of air,” said she. - </p> - <p> - Then they moved to the rail and leaned there, gazing off at the faintly - moonlit land. - </p> - <p> - He asked, in his cold way, how she had learned Chinese. - </p> - <p> - “I was born at T'ainan-fu,” she explained. “My father is a missionary.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” said he. And again, “Oh!” - </p> - <p> - Then they fell silent. Her impulse at first was to make talk. She did - murmur, “I really ought to be going in.” But he, apparently, found talk - unnecessary. And she stayed on, looking now down at the iridescent foam - slipping past the black hull, now up into the luminous night. - </p> - <p> - Then he remarked, casually, “Shall we walk?” And she found herself falling - into step with him. - </p> - <p> - They stopped, a little later, up forward and stood looking out over the - forecastle deck. - </p> - <p> - “Some day I'm going to ask the chief officer to let me go out there,” said - she. - </p> - <p> - “It isn't necessary to ask him,” replied Mr. Brachey. “Come along.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” murmured Betty, half in protest—“really?” But she went, - thrilled now, more than a little guilty, down the steps, past hatches and - donkey engines, up other steps, under and over a tangle of cables, over an - immense anchor, to seats on coils of rope near the very bow. - </p> - <p> - The situation amounted already to a secret. Mrs. Hasmer couldn't be told, - mused Betty. The fact was a little perplexing. But it stood. - </p> - <p> - Neither had mentioned Mrs. Hasmer. But now he said: - </p> - <p> - “I was rude to-day, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said she. “No.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! I'm that way. The less I see of people the better.” - </p> - <p> - This touched the half-fledged woman in her. - </p> - <p> - “You're interested in your work,” said she gently. “That's all. And it's - right. You're not a trifler.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm a lone wolf.” - </p> - <p> - She was beginning to find him out-and-out interesting. - </p> - <p> - “You travel a good deal,” she ventured demurely. “All the time. I prefer - it.” - </p> - <p> - “Always alone?” - </p> - <p> - “Always.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't get lonesome?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes. But what does it matter?” - </p> - <p> - She considered this. “You go into dangerous places.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes.” - </p> - <p> - “You traveled among the head-hunters of Borneo.” - </p> - <p> - “How did you find that out?” - </p> - <p> - “There's an advertisment of that book in <i>To-morrow in India</i>.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, have you read that thing?” - </p> - <p> - “Part of it. I...” - </p> - <p> - “You found it dull.” - </p> - <p> - “Well... it's a little over my head.” - </p> - <p> - “It's over everybody's. Mine.” - </p> - <p> - She nearly laughed at this. But he seemed not to think of it as humor. - </p> - <p> - “Aren't you a little afraid, sometimes—going into such dangerous - places all alone?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no.” - </p> - <p> - “But you might be hurt—or even—killed.” - </p> - <p> - “What's the difference?” - </p> - <p> - Startled, she looked straight up at him; then dropped her eyes. She waited - for him to explain, but he was gazing moodily out at the water ahead. - </p> - <p> - The soft night air wrapped them about like dream-velvet. Adventure was - astir, and romance. Betty, enchanted, looked lazily back at the white - midships decks, bridge and wheelhouse, at the mysterious rigging and - raking masts, at the foremost of the huge funnels pouring out great - rolling clouds of smoke. The engines throbbed and throbbed. Back there - somewhere the ship's bell struck, eight times for midnight. - </p> - <p> - “I don't care much for missionaries,” said Mr. Brachey. - </p> - <p> - “You'd like father.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps.” - </p> - <p> - “He's a wonderful man. He's six feet five. And strong.” - </p> - <p> - “It's a job for little men. Little souls. With little narrow eyes.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh... No!” - </p> - <p> - “Why try to change the Chinese? Their philosophy is finer than ours. And - works better. I like them.” - </p> - <p> - “So do I. But...” She wished her father could be there to meet the man's - talk. There must surely be strong arguments on the missionary side, if one - only knew them. She finally came out with: - </p> - <p> - “But they're heathen!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes!” - </p> - <p> - “They're—they're polygamous!” - </p> - <p> - “Why not?” - </p> - <p> - “But Mr. Brachey...” She couldn't go on with this. The conversation was - growing rather alarming. - </p> - <p> - “So are the Americans polygamous. And the other white peoples. Only they - call it by other names. You get tired of it. The Chinese are more honest.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder,” said she, suddenly steady and shrewd, “if you haven't stayed - away too long.” - </p> - <p> - His reply was: - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps.” - </p> - <p> - “If you live—you know, all by yourself, and for nobody in the world - except yourself—I mean, if there's nobody you're responsible for, - nobody you love and take care of and suffer for...” The sentence was - getting something involved. She paused, puckering her brows. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” said he. - </p> - <p> - “Why, I only meant, isn't there danger of a person like that becoming—well, - just selfish.” - </p> - <p> - “I am selfish.” - </p> - <p> - “But you don't want to be.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh. but I do!” - </p> - <p> - “I can hardly believe that.” - </p> - <p> - “Dependence on others is as bad as gratitude. It is a demand, a weakness. - Strength is better. If each of us stood selfishly alone, it would be a - cleaner, better world. There wouldn't be any of this mess of obligation, - one to another. No running up of spiritual debt. And that's the worst - kind.” - </p> - <p> - “But suppose,” she began, a little afraid of getting into depths from - which it might be difficult to extreate herself, “suppose—well, you - were married, and there were—well, little children. Surely you'd - have to feel responsible for them.” - </p> - <p> - “Surely,” said he curtly, “it isn't necessary for every man to bring - children 'nto the world. Surely that's not the only job.” - </p> - <p> - “But—but take another case. Suppose you had a friend, a younger man, - and he was in trouble—drinking, maybe; anything!—wouldn't you - feel responsible for him?” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all. That's the worst kind of dependence. The only battles a man - wins are the ones he wins alone. If any friend of mine—man or woman—can't - win his own battles—or hers—he or she had better go. Anywhere. - To hell, if it comes to that.” - </p> - <p> - He quite took her breath away. - </p> - <p> - One bell sounded. - </p> - <p> - “It's perfectly dreadful,” said she. “If Mrs. Has-mer knew I was out here - at this time of night, she'd...” - </p> - <p> - This sentence died out. They went back. - </p> - <p> - “Good night,” said she. - </p> - <p> - She felt that he must think her very young and simple. It seemed odd that - he should waste so much time on her. No other man she had ever met was - like him. Hesitantly, desiring at least a touch of friendliness, on an - impulse, she extended her hand. - </p> - <p> - He took it; held it a moment firmly; then said: - </p> - <p> - “Will you give me that drawing?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “Now?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” And she tiptoed twice again past the Hasmers' door. - </p> - <p> - “Please sign it,” said he, and produced a pencil. “But it seems so silly. - I mean, it's nothing, this sketch.” - </p> - <p> - “Please!” - </p> - <p> - She signed it, said good night again, and hurried off, her heart in a - curious flutter. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II—ROMANCE - </h2> - <h3> - I - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">U</span>NWILLING either to - confess like a naughty child or to go on keeping this rather large and - distinctly exciting secret under cover, Betty, at teatime, brought the - matter to an issue. The morning ashore had been difficult. Mr. Brachey had - severely ignored her, going about Nagasaki alone, lunching in austere - solitude at the hotel. - </p> - <p> - She said, settling herself in the deck chair: - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Hasmer, will you ask Mr. Brachey to have tea with us?” - </p> - <p> - After a long silence the older woman asked, stiffly: “Why, my dear?” - </p> - <p> - Betty compressed her lips. - </p> - <p> - Doctor Hasmer saved the situation by saying quietly, “I'll ask him.” - </p> - <p> - It was awkward from the first. The man was angular and unyielding. And - Mrs. Hasmer, though she tried, couldn't let him alone. She was determined - to learn whether he was married. She led up to the direct question more - otariously than she knew. Finally it came. They were speaking of his - announced plan to travel extensively in the interior of China. - </p> - <p> - “It must be quite delightful to wander as you do,” she said. “Of course, - if one has ties... you, I take it, are an unmarried man, Mr. Brachey ?” - </p> - <p> - Betty had to lower her face to hide the color that came. If only Mrs. - Hasmer had a little humor! She was a dear kind woman; but this!... - </p> - <p> - The journalist looked, impassively enough, but directly, at his - questioner. - </p> - <p> - She met his gaze. They were flint on steel, these two natures. - </p> - <p> - “You are obviously not married,” she repeated. - </p> - <p> - He looked down at his teacup; thinking. Then, abruptly, he set it down on - the deck, got up, muttered something that sounded like, “If you will - excuse me...” and strode away. - </p> - <p> - Betty went early to her cabin that evening. - </p> - <p> - She had no more than switched on her light when the Chinese steward came - with a letter. - </p> - <p> - She locked the door then, and looked at the unfamiliar handwriting. It was - small, round, clear; the hand of a particular man, a meticulous man. who - has written much with a pen. - </p> - <p> - She turned down the little wicker seat. Her cheeks were suddenly hot, her - pulse bounding high. - </p> - <p> - She skimmed it, at first, clear to the signature, “Jonathan Brachey”; then - went back and read it through, slowly. - </p> - <p> - “I was rude again just now,” (it began). “As I told you last night, it is - best for me not to see people. I am not a social being. Clearly, from this - time on, it will be impossible for me to talk with this Mrs. Hasmer. I - shall not try again. - </p> - <p> - “I could not answer her question. But to you I must speak. It would be - difficult even to do this if we were to meet again, and talk. But, as you - will readily see, we must not meet again, beyond the merest greeting. - </p> - <p> - “I was married four years ago. After only a few weeks my wife left me. The - reasons she gave were so flippant as to be absurd. She was a beautiful - and, it has seemed to me, a vain, spoiled, quite heartless woman. I have - not seen her since. Two years ago she became infatuated with another man, - and wrote asking me to consent to a divorce. I refused on the ground that - I did not care to enter into the legal intrigues preliminary to a divorce - in the state of her residence. Since then, I am told, she has changed her - residence to a state in which 'desertion' is a legal ground. But I have - received no word of any actual move on her part. - </p> - <p> - “It is strange that I should be writing thus frankly to you. Strange, and - perhaps wrong. But you have reached out to me more of a helping hand than - you will ever know. Our talk last night meant a great deal to me. To you I - doubtless seemed harsh and forbidding. It is true that I am that sort of - man, and therefore am best alone. It is seldom that I meet a person with - whom my ideas are in agreement. - </p> - <p> - “I trust that you will find every happiness in life. You deserve to. You - have the great gift of feeling. I could almost envy you that. It is a - quality I can perceive without possessing. An independent mind, a strong - gift of logic, stands between me and all human affection. I must say what - I think, not what I feel. - </p> - <p> - “I make people unhappy. The only corrective to such a nature is work, and, - whenever possible, solitude. But I do not solicit your pity. I find - myself, my thoughts, excellent company. - </p> - <p> - “With your permission I will keep the drawing. It will have a peculiar and - pleasant meaning to me.” - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>etty lowered the - letter, breathing out the single word, “Well!” - </p> - <p> - What on earth could she have said or done to give him any such footing in - her life? - </p> - <p> - She read it again. And then again. - </p> - <p> - An amazing man! - </p> - <p> - She made, ready to go to bed, slowly, dawdling, trying to straighten out - the curious emotional pressures on her mind. - </p> - <p> - She read the letter yet again; considered it. - </p> - <p> - Finally, after passing through many moods leading up to a tender sympathy - for this bleak life, and then passing on into a state of sheer nervous - excitement, she deliberately dressed again and went out on deck. - </p> - <p> - He stood by the rail, smoking. - </p> - <p> - “You have my letter?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. I've read it.” She was oddly, happily relieved at finding him. - </p> - <p> - “You shouldn't have come.” - </p> - <p> - She had no answer to this. It seemed hardly relevant. She smiled, in the - dark. - </p> - <p> - They fell to walking the deck. After a time, shyly, tacitly, a little - embarrassed, they went up forward again. - </p> - <p> - The ship was well out in the Yellow Sea now. The bow rose and fell slowly, - rhythmically, beneath them. - </p> - <p> - Moved to meet his letter with a response in kind, she talked of herself. - </p> - <p> - “It seems strange to be coming back to China.” - </p> - <p> - “You've been long away?” - </p> - <p> - “Six years. My mother died when I was thirteen. Father thought it would be - better for me to be in the States. My uncle, father's brother, was in the - wholesale hardware business in New York, and lived in Orange, and they - took me in. They were always nice to me. But last fall Uncle Frank came - down with rheumatic gout. He's an invalid now. It must have been pretty - expensive. And there was some trouble in his business. They couldn't very - well go on taking care of me, so father decided to have me come back to - T'ainan-fu.” She folded her hands in her lap. - </p> - <p> - He lighted his pipe, and smoked reflectively. - </p> - <p> - “That will be rather hard for you, won't it?” he remarked, after a time. - “I mean for a person of your temperament. You are, I should say, almost - exactly my opposite in every respect. You like people, friends. You are - impulsive, doubtless affectionate. I could be relatively happy, marooned - among a few hundred millions of yellow folk—though I could forego - the missionaries. But you are likely, I should think, to be starved there. - Spiritually—emotionally.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you think so?” said she quietly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” He thought it, over “The life of a mission compound isn't exactly - gay.” - </p> - <p> - “No, it isn't.” - </p> - <p> - “And you need gaiety.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if I do. I haven't really faced it, of course. I'm not facing it - now.” - </p> - <p> - “Just think a moment. You've not even landed in China yet. You're under no - real restraint—still among white people, on a white man's ship, - eating in European hotels at the ports. You aren't teaching endless - lessons to yellow children, day in, day out. You aren't shut up in an - interior city, where it mightn't even he safe for you to step outside the - gate house alone. And yet you're breaking bounds. Right now—out here - with me.” - </p> - <p> - Already she was taking his curious bluntness for granted. She said now, - simply, gently: - </p> - <p> - “I know. I'm sitting out here at midnight with a married man. And I don't - seem to mind. Of course you're not exactly married. Still... A few days - ago I wouldn't have thought it possible.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you tell the Hasmers that you were out here last night?” - </p> - <p> - “No.” - </p> - <p> - “Shall you tell them about this?” - </p> - <p> - She thought a moment; then, as simply, repeated: “No.” - </p> - <p> - “Why not?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know. It's the way I feel.” - </p> - <p> - He nodded. “You feel it's none of their business.” - </p> - <p> - “Well—yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course, I ought to take you back, now.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't feel as if I were doing wrong. Oh, a little, but...” - </p> - <p> - “I ought to take you back.” - </p> - <p> - She rested a hand on his arm. It was no more than a girlish gesture. She - didn't notice that he set his teeth and sat very still. - </p> - <p> - “I've thought this, though,” she said. “If I'm to meet you out here like—like - this—” - </p> - <p> - “But you're not to.” - </p> - <p> - “Well... here we are!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes... here we are!” - </p> - <p> - “I was going to say, it's dishonest, I think, for us to avoid each other - during the day. If we're friends...” - </p> - <p> - “If we're friends we'd better admit it.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. I meant that.” - </p> - <p> - He fell to working at his pipe with a pocket knife She watched him until - he was smoking again. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Hasmer won't like it.” - </p> - <p> - “I can't help that.” - </p> - <p> - “No. Of course.” He smoked. Suddenly he broke out, with a gesture so - vehement that it startled her: “Oh, it's plain enough—we're on a - ship, idling, dreaming, floating from a land of color and charm and quaint - unreality to another land that has always enchanted me, for all the dirt - and disease, and the smells. It's that! Romance! The old web! It's - catching us. And we're not even resisting. No one could blame you—you're - young, charming, as full of natural life as a young flower in the morning. - But I... I'm not romantic. To-night, yes! But next Friday, in Shanghai, - no!” - </p> - <p> - Betty turned away to hide a smile. - </p> - <p> - “You think I'm brutal? Well—I am.” - </p> - <p> - “No, you're not brutal.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I am.... But my God! You in T'ainanfu! Child, it's wrong!” - </p> - <p> - “It is simply a thing I can't help,” said she. - </p> - <p> - They fell silent. The pulse of the great dim ship was soothing. One bell - sounded. Two bells. Three. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> man of Jonathan - Brachey's nature couldn't know the power his nervous bold thoughts and - words were bound to exert in the mind of a girl like Betty. In her heart - already she was mothering him. Every word he spoke now, even the strong - words that startled her, she enveloped in warm sentiment. - </p> - <p> - To Brachey's crabbed, self-centered nature she was like a lush oasis in - the arid desert of his heart. He could no more turn his back on it than - could any tired, dusty wanderer. He knew this. Or, better, she was like a - mirage. And mirages have driven men out of their wits. - </p> - <p> - So romance seized them. They walked miles the next day, round and round - the deck. Mrs. Hasmer was powerless, and perturbed. Her husband counseled - watchful patience. Before night all the passengers knew that the two were - restless apart. They found corners on the boat deck, far from all eyes. - </p> - <p> - That night Mrs. Hasmer came to Betty's door; satisfied herself that the - girl was actually undressing and going to bed. Not one personal word - passed. - </p> - <p> - And then, half an hour later, Betty, dressed again, tiptoed out. Her heart - was high, touched with divine recklessness. This, she supposed, was wrong; - but right or wrong, it was carrying her out of her girlish self. She - couldn't stop. - </p> - <p> - Brachey was fighting harder; but to little purpose. They had these two - days now. That was all. At Shanghai, and after, it would be, as he had so - vigorously said, different. Just these two days! He saw, when she joined - him on the deck, that she was riding at the two days as if they were to be - her last on earth. Intensely, soberly happy, she was passing through a - golden haze of dreams, leaving the future to be what it might. - </p> - <p> - They sat, hand in hand, in the bow. She sang, in a light pretty voice, - songs of youth in a young land—college ditties, popular negro - melodies, amusing little street songs. - </p> - <p> - Very, very late, on the last evening, after a long silence—they had - mounted to the boat deck—he caught her roughly in his arms and - kissed her. - </p> - <p> - She lay limply against him. For a moment, a bitter moment—for now, - in an instant, he knew that she had never thought as far as this—he - feared she had fainted. Then he felt her tears on his cheek. - </p> - <p> - He lifted her to her feet, as roughly. - </p> - <p> - She swayed away from him leaning against a boat. - </p> - <p> - He said, choking: - </p> - <p> - “Can you get down the steps all right?” - </p> - <p> - She bowed her head. He made no effort to help her down the steps. They - walked along the deck toward the main companionway. Suddenly, with an - inarticulate sound, he turned, plunged in at the smoking-room door, and - was gone. - </p> - <p> - Early in the morning the ship dropped anchor in the muddy Woosung. The - breakfast hour came around, then quarantine inspection; but the silent - pale Betty, her moody eyes searching restlessly, caught no glimpse of him. - He must have taken a later launch than the one that carried Betty and the - Hasmers up to the Bund at Shanghai. And during their two days in the - bizarre, polyglot city, with its European façade behind which swarms all - China, it became clear that he wasn't stopping at the Astor House. - </p> - <p> - The only letter was from her father at T'ainan-fu. - </p> - <p> - She watched every mail; and inquired secretly at the office of the river - steamers an hour before starting on the long voyage up the Yangtse; but - there was nothing. - </p> - <p> - Then she recalled that he had never asked for her address, or for her - father's full name. They had spoken of T'ainan-fu. He might or might not - remember it. - </p> - <p> - And that was all. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III—THE SHEPHERD - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>T the point where - the ancient highway, linking Northern China with Thibet, the Kukunor - region and Mongolia, emerges from the treeless, red-brown tumbling hills - of Hansi Province there stands across the road—or stood, before the - revolution of 1911—a scenic arch of masonry crowned with a curving - elaborately ornamented roof of tiles. Some forgotten philanthropist - erected it, doubtless for a memorial to forgotten dead. Through this arch - the west-bound traveler caught his first view of the wide yellow valley of - the Han, with its yellow river, its square-walled, gray-green capital - city, and, far beyond, of the sharp purple mountains that might have been - cut out of cardboard. - </p> - <p> - The gray of old T'ainan lay in the massive battle-mented walls and in the - more than six square miles of closely packed tile roofs; the green in its - thousands of trees. For here, as in Peking and Sian-fu they had preserved - the trees; not, of course, in the innumerable tortuous streets, where - petty merchants, money-changers, porters, coolies, beggars, soldiers and - other riffraff passed freely through mud or dust, but within the thousands - of hidden private courtyards, in the yamens of governor, treasurer, and - provincial judge, in temple grounds outside the walls, and in the compound - of the American Mission. At this latter spot, by the way, could be seen, - with the aid of field-glasses, the only two-story residence in T'ainan; - quite a European house, built after the French manner of red brick trimmed - with white stone, and rising distinctly above the typically gray roofs - that clustered about its lower windows. - </p> - <p> - There were bold gate towers on the city wall; eight of them, great - timbered structures with pagoda roofs rising perhaps fifteen yards above - the wall and thirty above the lowly roadway. The timber-work under the - shadowing eaves had sometime been painted in reds, blues and greens; and - the once vivid colors, though dulled now by weather and years, were still - richly visible to the near-observer. - </p> - <p> - Many smaller settlements, little gray clusters of houses, lay about the - plain on radiating highways; for T'ainan boasted its suburbs. The hill - slopes were dotted with the homes and walled gardens of bankers, merchants - and other gentry. On a plateau just north of the Great Highway stood, side - by side, two thirteen-roof pagodas, the pride of all central Hansi. - </p> - <p> - About the city, on any day of the seven, twisting through the hundreds of - little streets and in and out at the eight gates, moved tens of thousands - of tirelessly busy folk, all clad in the faded blue cotton that spells - China to the eye, and among these a slow-moving, never-ceasing tangle of - wheeled and fourfooted local traffic. - </p> - <p> - And along the Great Highway—down the hill slopes, through suburbs - and city, over the river and on toward the teeming West; over the river, - through city and suburbs and up the hills, toward the teeming East—flowed - all day long the larger commerce that linked province with province and, - ultimately, yellow man with white, at the treaty ports, hundreds of miles - away. There were strings of laden camels with evil-looking Mongol drivers; - hundreds and thousands of camels, disdainfully going and coming. There - were hundreds and thousands of asses, patient little humorists, bearing - panniers of coal lumps and iron ore from the crudely operated mines in the - hills. There were hundreds and thousands of mule-drawn carts, springless, - many with arched roofs of matting. - </p> - <p> - Along the roadside, sheltered by little sagging canopies of grimy matting, - or squatting in the dirt, were vendors of flat cakes and vinegary <i>sumshoo</i> - and bits of this and that to wear. Naked children swarmed like flies in - the sun. - </p> - <p> - The day-by-day life of the oldest and least selfconscious civilization in - the world was moving quietly, resistlessly along, as it had moved for six - thousand years. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>everend Henry B. - Withery, on a morning in late March, came, by springless cart, out of - Kansu into T'ainan. A drab little man, with patient fervor in his eyes and - a limp (this latter the work of Boxers in 1900). He was bound, on leave, - for Shanghai, San Francisco and home; but a night at T'ainan with Griggsby - Doane meant, even in the light of hourly nearing America, much. For they - had shared rooms at the seminary. They had entered the yielding yet - resisting East side by side. Meeting but once or twice a year, even less - often, they had felt each other deeply across the purple mountains. - </p> - <p> - They sat through tiffin with the intent preoccupied workers in the - dining-room of the brick house; and Mr Withery's gentle eyes took in - rather shrewdly the curious household. It interested him. There were - elements that puzzled him; a suggestion of staleness in this face, of - nervous overstrain in that; a tension. - </p> - <p> - The several native workers smiled and talked less, he thought, than on his - former visits. - </p> - <p> - Little Mr. Boatwright—slender, dustily blond, always hitherto - burning with the tire of consecration—was continually fumbling with - a spoon, or slowly twisting his tumbler, the while moodily studying the - table-cloth. And his larger wife seemed heavier in mind as in body. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Withery found the atmosphere even a little oppressive. He looked up - about the comfortable, high ceiled room. Mounted and placed on the walls - were a number of interesting specimens of wild fowl. Elmer Boatwright, - though no devotee of slaughter or even of sport, had shot and mounted - these himself. - </p> - <p> - Withery asked him now if he had found any interesting birds lately. The - reply was little more than monosyllabic; it was almost the reply of a - middle-aged man who has lost and forgotten the enthusiasm of youth. - </p> - <p> - There was talk, of course; the casual surface chatter of folk who are - deeply united in work. A new schoolroom was under construction. Jen Ling - Pu, a native preacher, was doing well at So T'ung. The new tennis court - wasn't, after all, long enough. - </p> - <p> - During all this, Withery pondered. Griggsby was driving too hard, of - course. The strongly ascetic nature of the man seemed to be telling on - him; or perhaps it was running out, the fire of it, leaving only the force - of will. That happened, of course, now and then, in the case of men gifted - with great natural vitality. - </p> - <p> - Then too, come to reflect on it, the fight had been hard, here in Hansi. - Since 1900. Harder, perhaps, than anywhere else except Shantung and - Chihli. Harder even than in those more easterly provinces, for they were - nearer things. There were human contacts, freshening influences... . The - Boxers had dealt heavily with the whites in Hansi. More than a hundred had - been slain by fire or sword. Young women—girls like these two or - three about the dinner table—had been tortured. Griggsby and his - wife and the little girl had missed destruction only through the accident - of a journey, in the spring, to Shanghai. And he had returned, dangerously - early, to a smoldering ruin and plunged with all the vigor in his unusual - body and mind at the task of reconstruction. The work in the province was - shorthanded, of course, even yet. It would be so. But Griggsby was - building it up. He even had the little so-called college, down the river - at Hung Chan, going again, after a fashion. Money was needed, of course. - And teachers. And equipment. All that had been discussed during tiffin. It - was a rather heroic record. And it had not passed unobserved. At the - Missionary Conference, at Shanghai, in 1906, Griggsby's report—carefully - phrased, understated throughout, almost colorless—had drawn out - unusual applause. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Doane's death occurred during the first year of that painful - reconstruction. Griggsby's course, after that, from the day of the - funeral, in fact, as you looked back over it, recalling this and that - apparently trivial incident, was characteristic. The daughter was sent - back to the States, for schooling. Griggsby furnished for himself, up in - what was little more, really, than the attic of the new mission residence, - a bare, severe little suite of bedroom and study. The newly married - Boatwrights he installed, as something near master and mistress, on the - second floor. The other white workers and teachers filled all but the two - guest rooms, and, at times, even these. And then, his little institution - organized on a wholly new footing, he had loaded himself sternly with - work. - </p> - <p> - Dinner was over. One by one the younger people left the room. And within a - few moments the afternoon routine of the mission compound was under way. - </p> - <p> - Through the open window came a beam of warm spring sunshine. Outside, - across the wide courtyard Withery noted the, to him, familiar picture of - two or three blue-clad Chinese men lounging on the steps of the gate - house; students crossing, books in hand; young girls round and fresh of - face, their slanting eyes demurely downcast, assembling before one of the - buildings; two carpenters working deliberately on a scaffold. A - soft-footed servant cleared the table. Now that the two friends were left - free to chat of personal matters, the talk wandered into unexpectedly - impersonal regions. Withery found himself baffled, and something puzzled. - During each of their recent visits Griggsby's manner had affected him in - this same way, but less definitely. The aloofness—he had once or - twice ever, thought of it as an evasiveness—had been only a - tendency. The old friendship had soon warmed through it and brought ease - of spirit and tongue. But the tendency had grown. The present Griggsby was - clearly going to prove harder to get at. That remoteness of manner had - grown on him as a habit. The real man, whatever he was coming to be, was - hidden now; the man whose very soul had once been written clear in the - steady blue eyes. - </p> - <p> - And what a man he was! Mr. Withery indulged in a moment of sentiment as he - quietly, shrewdly studied him, across the table. - </p> - <p> - In physical size, as in mental attainments and emotional force, James - Griggsby Duane had been, from the beginning, a marked man. He was - forty-five now; or within a year of it. The thick brown hair of their - student days was thinner-now at the sides and nearly gone on top. But the - big head was set on the solid shoulders with all the old distinction. A - notable fact about Griggsby Doane was that after winning intercollegiate - standing as a college football player, he had never allowed his body to - settle back with the years. He weighed now, surely, within a pound or two - or three of his playing weight twenty-four years earlier. He had always - been what the British term a clean feeder, eating sparingly of simple - food. Hardly a day of his life but had at least its hour or two of violent - exercise. He would rise at five in the morning and run a few miles before - breakfast. He played tennis and handball. He would gladly have boxed and - wrestled, but a giant with nearly six and a half feet of trained, - conditioned muscle at his disposal finds few to meet him, toe to toe. His - passion for walking had really, during the earlier years, raised minor - difficulties about T'ainan. The Chinese were intelligent and, of course, - courteous; but it was more than they could be asked to understand at - first. - </p> - <p> - It had worked out, gradually. They knew him now; knew he was fearless, - industrious, patient, kind. During the later years, after the Boxer - trouble, his immense figure, striding like him of the fabled - seven-league-boots, had become a familiar, friendly figure in central - Hansi. Not infrequently he would tramp, pack on shoulders, from one to - another of the outlying mission stations; and thought nothing of covering - a hundred and thirty or forty <i>li</i> where your cart or litter mules or - your Manchu pony would stop at ninety and call it a day. - </p> - <p> - Withery was bringing the talk around to the personal when Doane looked at - his watch. - </p> - <p> - “You'll excuse me, Henry,” he said. “I've a couple of classes. But I'll - knock off about four-thirty. Make yourself comfortable. Prowl about. Use - my study, if you like.... Or wait. We were speaking of the Ho Shan - Company. They've had two or three mass meetings here during the winter, - and got up some statements.” - </p> - <p> - “Do they suggest violence?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes.” Doane waved the thought carelessly aside. “But Pao will keep - them in hand, I think. He doesn't want real trouble. But he wouldn't mind - scaring the company into selling out. The gossip is that he is rather - heavily interested himself in some of the native mines.” - </p> - <p> - “Is Pao your governor?” - </p> - <p> - “No, the governor died last fall, and no successor has been sent out. - Kang, the treasurer, is nearly seventy and smokes sixty to a hundred pipes - of opium a day. Pao Ting Chuan is provincial judge, but is ruling the - province now. He's an able fellow.”... Doane drew a thick lot of papers - from an inner pocket, and selected one. “Read this. It's one of their - statements. Pao had the translation made in his yamen. I haven't the - original, but the translation is fairly accurate I believe.” - </p> - <p> - Withery took the paper; ignored it, and studied his friend, who had moved - to the door. Doane seemed to have lost his old smile—reflective, - shrewd, a little quizzical. The furrow between his eyes had deepened into - something near a permanent frown. There were fine lires about and under - the eyes that might have indicated a deep weariness of the spirit. Yet the - skin was clear, the color good.... Griggsby was fighting something out; - alone; through the years. - </p> - <p> - Feeling this, Henry Withery broke out, in something of their old frank - way. - </p> - <p> - “Do knock off, Grigg. Let's have one of the old talks. I think—I - think perhaps you need me a little.” Doane hesitated. It was not like him - to do that. “Yes,” he said gravely, but with his guard up, that curious - guard, “it would be fine to have one of the old talks if we can get at - it.” - </p> - <p> - He turned to go; then paused. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, by the way, I'm expecting Pourmont. A little later in the day. He's - resident engineer for the Ho Shan Company, over at Ping Yang. Pierre - François George Marie Pourmont. An amusing person. He feels a good deal of - concern over these meetings. For that matter, he was mobbed here in - February. He didn't like that.” - </p> - <p> - Withery found himself compressing his lips, and tried to correct that - impulse with a rather artificial smile. It wasn't like Griggsby to speak - in that light way. Like a society man almost. It suggested a hardening of - the spirit; or a crust over deep sensitiveness. - </p> - <p> - Men, he reflected, who have to fight themselves during long periods of - time are often hardened by the experience, even though they eventually - win. - </p> - <p> - He wondered, moving to the window, and thoughtfully watching the huge man - striding across the courtyard, if Griggsby Doane would be winning. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">U</span>p in the little - study under the roof Mr. Withery sank into a Morris chair and settled back - to read the views of the “Gentry and People of Hansi” on foreign mining - syndicates. The documents had been typed on an old machine with an - occasional broken letter; and were phrased in the quaint English that had - long been familiar to him. - </p> - <p> - First came a statement of the “five items” of difference between these - “Gentry and People” and the Ho Shan Company—all of a technical or - business nature. Only in the last “item” did the emotional reasoning - common to Chinese public documents make its appearance.... “<i>Five</i>. - In Honan the company boldly introduced dynamite, which is prohibited. The - dynamite exploded and this gave rise to diplomatic trouble, a like thing - might happen in Hansi with the same evil consequences.” Then followed this - inevitable general statement: - </p> - <p> - “At present in China, from the highest to the lowest, all are in - difficulty—the annual for the indemnities amounts to Taels - 30,000,000, and in every province the reforms involve great additional - expenditure, while the authorities only know how to control the - expenditure, but not how to reach fresh sources of income. Those in power - can find no fresh funds and the people are extremely poor and all they - have to trust to are a few feet of land which have not been excavated by - the foreigners. Westerners say that the coal of Hansi is sufficient to - supply the needs of the world for two thousand years; in other countries - there is coal without iron, or iron without coal, but in Hansi there is - abundance of both coal and iron and it forms one of the best manufacturing - countries in the world. At present if there is no protection for China - then that finishes it, but if China is to be protected how can Hansi be - excluded from protection? Therefore all China and all Hansi must withstand - the claims of the Ho Shan Company. - </p> - <p> - “The company's agent general says that the agreement was drawn up with the - Chinese Government, but at that time the people were unenlightened and - traitors were suffered to effect stolen sales of Government lands, using - oppression and disregarding the lives of the people. Now all the Gentry - and People know how things are, and of what importance the consequences - are for the lives of themselves and their families, and so with one heart - they all withstand the company in whatever schemes it may have, for they - are not willing to drop their hands and give themselves up to death, and - if the officials will not protect the mines of Hansi then we will protect - our mines ourselves. - </p> - <p> - “We suggest a plan for the company, that it should state the sum used to - bribe Hu Pin Chili, and to win over Chia Ching Jen and Liu O and Sheng - Hsuan Hui and the Tsung Li Yamen, and the Wai Wu Pu and the Yu Chuan Pu, - at the present time, and the bribes to other cruel traitors, and a - detailed account of their expenditure in opening their mines since their - arrival in China, and Hansi will repay the amount. If the company still - pushes the claim for damages, in consequence of the delay in issuing the - permit then the Hansi people will never submit to it. - </p> - <p> - “In conclusion the people of Hansi must hold to their mines till death, - and if the Government and officials still unrighteously flatter the - foreigners in their oppression and flog the people robbing them of their - flesh and blood to give those to the foreigners then some one must throw - away his life by bomb throwing and so repay the company, but we trust the - company will carefully consider and weigh the matter and not push Hansi to - this extremity.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Withery laid the documents on Doane's desk, and gave up an hour to - jotting down notes for his own annual report. Then he took a long walk, in - through the wall and about the inner city. He was back by four-thirty, but - found no sign of his friend. - </p> - <p> - At five a stout Frenchman arrived, a man of fifty or more, with a long, - square-trimmed beard of which he was plainly fond. Doane returned then to - the house. - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he three men had - tea in the study. M. Pourmont, with an apology, smoked cigarettes. Withery - observed, when the genual Frenchman turned his head, that the lobe of his - left ear was missing. - </p> - <p> - M. Pourmont regarded the local situation seriously. - </p> - <p> - “Zay spik of you,” he explained to Griggsby Doane. - </p> - <p> - “Zay say zat you have ze petit papier, ze little paper, all yellow, cut - like ze little man an' woman. An' it is also zat zay say zat ze little - girl, ze student, all ze little jeunes filles, is ze lowair vife of you, - Monsieur It is not good, zat. At Paree ve vould say zat it is <i>se - compliment</i>, but here it is not good. It is zat zay have not bifore - spik like zat of Monsieur Doane.” - </p> - <p> - Doane merely considered this without replying. - </p> - <p> - “That statement of the Gentry and People looks rather serious to me,'' Mr. - Withery remarked. - </p> - <p> - “It has its serious side,” said Doane quietly. “Put you see, of course, - from the frankness and publicity of it, that the officials are back of it. - These Gentry and People would never go so far unsupported. It wouldn't - surprise me to learn that the documents originated within the yamen of his - Excellency Pao Ting Chuan.” - </p> - <p> - “Very good,” said Withery. “Put if he lets it drift much further the - danger will be real. Suppose some young hothead were to take that last - threat seriously and give up his life in throwing a bomb—-what - then?” - </p> - <p> - “It would be serious then, of course,” said Doane. “But I hardly think any - one here would go so far unsupported.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes!” cried M. Pourmont, in some excitement, “an' at who is it zat zay - t'row ze bomb? It is at me, <i>n'est ce pas?</i> At me! You tlink I forget - v'en ze mob it t'rowr ze <i>bierre</i> at me? <i>Mais non!</i> Zay tear ze - cart of me. Zay beat ze head of me. Zay destroy ze ear of me. <i>Ah, c' - était terrible, ça!</i>” - </p> - <p> - “They attacked Monsieur Pourmont while he was riding to the yamen for an - audience with Pao,” Doane explained. “But Pao heard of it and promptly - sent soldiers. 1 took it up with him the next day. He acted most - correctly. The ringleaders of the mob were whipped and imprisoned.” - </p> - <p> - “But you mus' also say to Monsieur Vitieree zat ze committee of my <i>compagnie</i> - he come to Peking—<i>quinze mille kilometres he come!</i>—an' - now <i>Son Excellence</i> he say zay mus' not come here, into <i>ze - province</i>. It is so difficult, ça! An' ze committee he is ver' angry. - He swear at Peking. He cool ze—vat you say—-heels. An' ze work - he all stop. No good! Noz-zing at all!” - </p> - <p> - “That is all so, Henry.” Thus Doane, turning to his friend. “I don't mean - to minimize the actual difficulties. But I do not believe we are in any - such danger as in 1900. Even then the officials did it, of course. If they - hadn't believed that the incantations of the Boxers made them immune to - our bullets, and if they hadn't convinced the Empress Dowager of it, we - should never have had the siege of the legations. But I am to have an - audience with His Excellency tomorrow, at one, and will go over this - ground carefully. I have no wish, myself, to underestimate the trouble. My - daughter arrives next week.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” said Withery. “Oh... your daughter! From the States, Grigg?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I am to meet her at Hankow. The Hasmers brought her across.” - </p> - <p> - “That's too bad, in a way.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course. But there was no choice.” - </p> - <p> - “But zat is not all zat is!” M. Puurmont was pacing the floor now. “A boy - of me, of ze <i>cuisine</i>, he go home las' week to So T'ung an' he say - zat a—vat you call?—a circle.. - </p> - <p> - “A society?” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Mais oui!</i> A society, she meet in ze night an' <i>fait l'exercise</i>—” - </p> - <p> - “They are drilling?” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Oui!</i> Ze drill. It is ze society of Ze Great Eye.” - </p> - <p> - “I never heard of that,” mused Griggsby aloud. “I don't really see what - they can do. But I'll take it up to-morrow with, Pao. I would ask you, - however, to remember that if the people don't know the cost of - indemnities, there can be no doubt about Pao. He knows. And it is hard for - me to imagine the province drifting out of his control for a single day. - One event I am planning to watch closely is the fair here after the middle - of April. Some of these agitators of the Gentry and People are sure to be - on hand. We shall learn a great deal then.” - </p> - <p> - “You'll be back then, Grigg?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes. By the tenth. I shan't delay at all at Hankow.” - </p> - <p> - It seemed to Henry Withery that his friend and host maneuvered to get him - to retire first. Then he attributed the suspicion to his own disturbed - thoughts.... Still, Griggsby hadn't returned to the house until after M. - Pourmont's arrival. It was now nearly midnight, and there had been never a - personal word. - </p> - <p> - But at last, M. Pourmont out of the way for the night, lamp in hand, - Griggsby led the way to the remaining guest room. - </p> - <p> - Withery, following, looked up at the tall grave man, who had to stoop a - little at the doors. Would Griggsby put down the lamp, speak a courteous - good night, and go off to his own attic quarters; or would he linger? It - was to be a test, this coming moment, of their friendship.... Withery's - heart filled. In his way, through the years, out there in remote Kansu, he - had always looked up to Grigg and had leaned on him, on memories of him as - he had been. He had the memories now—curiously poignant memories, - tinged with the melancholy of lost youth. But had he still the friend? - </p> - <p> - Duane set down the lamp, and looked about, all grave courtesy, to see if - his friend's bag was at hand, and if the wash-stand and towel-rack had - been made ready. - </p> - <p> - Withery stood on the sill, struggling to control his emotions. - Longfellow's lines came to mind: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “A boy's will is the wind's will, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And the thoughts of youth are long, long - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - thoughts.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - They were middle-aged now, they two. It was extraordinarily hard to - believe. They had felt so much, and shared so much. They had plunged at - missionary work with such ardor. Grigg especially. He had thrown aside - more than one early opportunity for a start in business. He had sacrificed - useful worldly acquaintances. His heart had burned to save souls, to carry - the flame of divine revelation into what had then seemed a benighted, - materialistic land. - </p> - <p> - Grigg would have succeeded in business or in the service of his - government. He had a marked administrative gift. And power.... Distinctly - power. - </p> - <p> - Withery stepped within the room, closed the door behind him, and looked - straight up into that mask of a face; in his own deep emotion he thought - of it as a tragic mask. - </p> - <p> - “Grigg,” he said very simply, “what's the matter?” - </p> - <p> - There was a silence. Then Doane came toward the door. - </p> - <p> - “The matter?” he queried, with an effort to smile. - </p> - <p> - “Can't we talk, Grigg?... I know you are in deep trouble.” - </p> - <p> - “Well”—Doane rested a massive hand on a bedpost—“I won't say - that it isn't an anxious time, Henry. I'm pinning my faith to Pau Ting - Chuan. But... And, of course, if I could have foreseen all the little - developments, I wouldn't have sent for Betty. Though it's not easy to see - what else I could have done. Frank and Ethel couldn't keep her longer. And - the expense of any other arrangement... She's nineteen, Henry. A young - woman. Curious—a young woman whom I've never even seen as such, and - my daughter!” - </p> - <p> - “It isn't that, Grigg.” - </p> - <p> - At the moment Withery could say no more. He sank into a chair by the door, - depressed in spirit. - </p> - <p> - Doane walked to the window; looked out at the stars; drummed a moment on - the glass. - </p> - <p> - “It's been uphill work, Henry... since nineteen hundred.” - </p> - <p> - Withery cleared his throat. “It isn't that,” he repeated unsteadily. - </p> - <p> - Doane stood there a moment longer; then turned and gazed gloomily at his - friend. - </p> - <p> - The silence grew painful. - </p> - <p> - Finally, Doane sighed, spread his hands in the manner of one who - surrenders to fate, and came slowly over to the bed; stretching out his - long frame there, against the pillows. - </p> - <p> - “So it's as plain as that, Henry.” - </p> - <p> - “It is—to me.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if I can talk.” - </p> - <p> - “The question is, Grigg—can I help you?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm afraid not, Henry. I doubt if any one can.” The force of this sank - slowly into Withery's mind. “No one?” he asked in a hushed voice. - </p> - <p> - “I'm afraid not.... Do you think the others, my people here, see it?” - </p> - <p> - “The tone has changed here, Grigg.” - </p> - <p> - “I've tried not to believe it.” - </p> - <p> - “I've felt it increasingly for several years. When I've passed through. - Even in your letters. It's been hard to speak before. For that matter, I - had formulated no question. It was just an impression. But today... and - to-night...” - </p> - <p> - “It's as bad as that, now.” - </p> - <p> - “Suppose I say that it's as definite as that, Grigg. The impression.” - </p> - <p> - Doane let his head drop back against the pillows; closed his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “The words don't matter,” he remarked. - </p> - <p> - “No, they don't, of course.” Withery's mind, trained through the busy - years to the sort of informal confessional familiar to priests of other - than the Roman church, was clearing itself of the confusions of friendship - and was ready to dismiss, for the time, philosophically; the sense of - personal loss. - </p> - <p> - “Is it something you've done, Grigg?” he asked now, gently. “Have you—” - </p> - <p> - Doane threw out an interrupting hand. - </p> - <p> - “No,” he said rather shortly, “I've not broken the faith, Henry, not in - act.” - </p> - <p> - “In your thoughts only?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. There.” - </p> - <p> - “It is doubt?... Strange, Grigg, I never knew a man whose faith had in it - such vitality. You've inspired thousands. Tens of thousands. You—I - will say this, now—you, nothing more, really, than my thoughts of - you carried me through my bad time. Through those doldrums when the ardor - of the first few years had burned out and I was spent, emotionally. It was - with your help that I found my feet again. You never knew' that.” - </p> - <p> - “No. I didn't know that.” - </p> - <p> - “I worried a good deal, then. I had never before been aware of the church - as a worldly organization, as a political mechanism. I hadn't questioned - it. It was Hidderleigh's shrewd campaign for the bishopric that disturbed - me. Then the money raised questions, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “There's been a campaign on this winter, over in the States,” said Doane, - speaking slowly and thoughtfully. “Part of that fund is to be sent here to - help extend my work in the province. They're using all the old emotional - devices. All the claptrap. Chaplain Cabell is touring the churches with - his little cottage organ and his songs.” - </p> - <p> - “But the need is real out here, Grigg. And the people at home must be - stirred into recognizing it. They can't he reached except through their - emotions. I've been through all that. I see now, clearly enough, that it's - an imperfect world. We must do the best we can with it. Because it is - imperfect we must keep at our work.” - </p> - <p> - “You know as well as I what they're doing, Henry. Cabell, all that crowd, - haven't once mentioned Hansi. They're talking the Congo.” - </p> - <p> - “But you forget, Grigg, that the emotional interest of our home people in - China has run out. They thought about us during the Boxer trouble, and - later, during the famine in Shensi. Now, because of the talk of slavery - and atrocities in Central Africa, public interest has shifted to that part - of the world.” - </p> - <p> - “And so they're playing on the public sympathy for Africa to raise money, - some of which is later to be diverted to Central China.” - </p> - <p> - “What else can they do?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know.” - </p> - <p> - “You find yourself inclined to question the whole process?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Aren't you misplacing your emphasis, Grigg? We all do that, of course. - Now and then.... Isn't the important thing for you, the emphatic thing, to - spread the word of God in Hansi Province?” He leaned forward, speaking - simply, with sincerity. - </p> - <p> - Doane closed his eyes again; and compressed his lips. - </p> - <p> - Withery, anxiously watching him, saw that the healthy color was leaving - his face. - </p> - <p> - After a silence that grew steadily in intensity, Doane at last opened his - eyes, and spoke, huskily, but with grim force. - </p> - <p> - “Of course, Henry, you're right. Right enough. These things are details. - They're on my nerves, that's all. I'm going to tell you...” He sat up, - slowly swung his feet to the floor, clasped his hands.... “I'll spare you - my personal history of the past few years. And, of course, captious - criticism of the church is no proper introduction to what I'm going to - say. During these recent years I've been groping through my own - Gethsemane. It has been a terrible time. There have been many moments when - I've questioned the value of the struggle. If I had been as nearly alone - as it has seemed, sometimes... I mean, if there hadn't been little Betty - to think of...” - </p> - <p> - “I understand,” Withery murmured. - </p> - <p> - “In a way I've come through my Valley. My head has cleared a little. And - now I know only too clearly; it is very difficult; in a way, the time of - doubt and groping was easier to bear... I know that I am in the wrong - work.” - </p> - <p> - Withery, with moist eyes, studied the carpet. - </p> - <p> - “You are sure?” he managed to ask. - </p> - <p> - He felt rather than saw his friend's slow nod. - </p> - <p> - “It's a relief, of course, to tell you.” Doane was speaking with less - effort now; but his color had not returned. “There's no one else. I - couldn't say it to Hidderleigh. To me that man is fundamentally - dishonest.” - </p> - <p> - Withery found it difficult to face such extreme frankness. His mind - slipped around it into another channel. He was beginning to feel that - Grigg mustn't be let off so easily. There were arguments.... - </p> - <p> - “One thing that has troubled me, even lately,” he said, hunting for some - common ground of thought and speech, “is the old denominational - differences back home. I can't take all that for granted, as so many of - our younger workers do. It has seemed to me that the conference last year - should have spoken out more vigorously on that one point. We can never - bring missionary work into any sort of unity here while the denominational - spirit is kept alive at home.” - </p> - <p> - Doane broke out, with a touch of impatience: “We approach the shrewdest, - most keenly analytical people or; earth, the Chinese, with something near - a hundred and fifty conflicting varieties of the one true religion. Too - often, Henry, we try to pass to them our faith but actually succeed only - in exhibiting the curious prejudices of narrow white minds.” - </p> - <p> - This was, clearly, not a happy topic. Withery sighed. - </p> - <p> - “This—this attitude that you find yourself in—is really a - conclusion, Grigg?” - </p> - <p> - “It is a conclusion.” - </p> - <p> - “What are you going to do?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know.” - </p> - <p> - “It would be a calamity if you were to give up your work here, in the - midst of reconstruction.” - </p> - <p> - “No man is essential, Henry But of course, just now, it would lie - difficult. I have thought, often, if Boatwright had only turned out a - stronger man....” - </p> - <p> - “Grigg, one thing! You must let me speak of it.... Has the possibility - occurred to you of marrying again?” - </p> - <p> - Doane sprang up at this; walked the floor, - </p> - <p> - “Do you realize what you're saying, Henry!” he cried out. - </p> - <p> - “I understand, Grigg, but you and I are old enough to know that in the - case of a vigorous man like yourself—” - </p> - <p> - Doane threw out a hand. - </p> - <p> - “Henry, I've thought of everything!” - </p> - <p> - A little later he stopped and stood over his friend. - </p> - <p> - “I have fought battles that may as well be forgotten,” he said - deliberately. “I have won them, over and over, to no end whatever. I have - assumed that these victories would lead in time to a sort of peace, even - to resignation. They have not. Each little victory now seems to leave me - further back. I'm losing, not gaining, through the years. It was when I - finally nerved myself to face that fact that I found myself facing it all—my - whole life.... Henry, I'm full of a fire and energy that no longer finds - an outlet in my work. I want to turn to new fields. If I don't, before - it's too late, I may find myself on the rocks.” - </p> - <p> - Withery thought this over. Doane was still pacing the floor. Withery, pale - himself now, looked up. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps, then,” he said, “you had better break with it.” - </p> - <p> - Doane stopped at the window; stared out. Withery thought his face was - working. - </p> - <p> - “Have you any means at all?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - Doane moved his head in the negative.... “Oh, my books. A few personal - things.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course”—Withery's voice softened—“you've given away a good - deal.” - </p> - <p> - “I've given everything.” - </p> - <p> - “Hum!... Have you thought of anything else you might do?” - </p> - <p> - Doane turned. “Henry, I'm forty-five years old. I have no profession, no - business experience beyond the little administrative work here. Yet I must - live, not only for myself, but to support my little girl. If I do quit, - and try to find a place in the business world, I shall carry to my grave - the stigma that clings always to the unfrocked priest.” He strode to the - door. “I tell you, I've thought of everything!... We're getting nowhere - with this. I appreciate your interest. But... I'm sorry, Henry. Sleep if - you can. Good night.” - </p> - <p> - They met, with M. Pourmont and the others, at breakfast. - </p> - <p> - There was a moment, on the steps of the gate house, overlooking the narrow - busy street, when they silently clasped hands. - </p> - <p> - Then Henry Withery crawled in under the blue curtains of his cart and rode - away, carrying with him a mental picture of a huge man, stooping a little - under the red lintel of the doorway, his strong face sternly set. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV—THE RIDDLE OF LIFE, AND OF DEATH - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>OANE stood on the - Bund at Hankow, by the railing, his great frame towering above the - passers-by. He had lunched with the consul general, an old acquaintance. - He had arranged to stop overnight, with Betty, in a missionary compound. - In the morning they would take the weekly Peking Express northward. - </p> - <p> - The wide yellow Yangtse flowed by, between its steep mud cliffs, crowded - with sampans—hundreds of them moored, rail to rail, against the - opposite bank, a compact floating village that was cluttered and crowded - with ragged river-folk and deck-houses of arched matting and that reared - skyward a thick tangle of masts and rigging. The smaller boats and tubs of - the water-beggars lay against the bank just beneath him, expectantly - awaiting the Shanghai steamer. Out in the stream several stately junks lay - at anchor; and near them a tiny river gunboat, her low free-board - glistening white in the warm spring sunshine, a wisp of smoke trailing - lazily from her funnel, the British ensign hanging ir folds astern. - </p> - <p> - Down and up the water steps were moving continuously the innumerable water - bearers whose business it was to supply the city of near a million yellow - folk that lay just behind the commercial buildings and the pyramid-like - godowns of the Bund. - </p> - <p> - To Doane the picture, every detail of which had a place in the environment - of his entire adult life, seemed unreal. The consul general, too, had been - unreal. His talk, mostly of remembered if partly mellowed political - grievances back home, of the great days when a certain “easy boss” was in - power, and later of the mutterings of revolution up and down the Yangtse - Valley, sounded in Doane's ears like quaint idle chatter of another - planet.... His own talk, it seemed now, had been as unreal as the rest of - it. - </p> - <p> - Of the compliment men of affairs usually paid him, despite his calling, in - speaking out as man to man, Doane had never thought and did not think now. - He was not self-conscious. - </p> - <p> - The hours of sober thought that followed his talk with Henry Withery had - deepened the furrow between his brows. - </p> - <p> - In an odd way he was dating from that talk. It had been extraordinarily - futile. It had to come, some sort of outbreak. For two or three years he - had rather vaguely recognized this fact, and as vaguely dreaded it. Now it - had happened. It was like a line drawn squarely across his life. He was - different now; perhaps more honest, certainly franker with himself, but - different... It had shaken him. Sleep left him for a night or two. Getting - away for this trip to Hankow seemed a good thing. He had to be alone, - walking it off, and thinking... thinking.... He walked the two hundred and - ninety <i>li</i> to M. Pour-mont's compound, at Ping Yang, the railhead - that spring of the new meter-guage line into Hans' Province in two days. - The mule teams took three. - </p> - <p> - He dwelt much with memories of his daughter. She had been a winning little - thing. Until the terrible Boxer year, that ended, for him, in the death of - his wife, she had brought continuous happiness into their life. - </p> - <p> - She would be six years older now. He couldn't picture that. She had sent - an occasional snapshot photograph; but these could not replace his vivid - memories of the child she had been. - </p> - <p> - He was tremulously eager to see her. There would be little problems of - adjustment. Over and over he told himself that he mustn't be stern with - her; he must watch that. - </p> - <p> - He felt some uncertainty regarding her training. It was his hope that she - would fit into the work of the mission. It seemed, indeed, necessary. She - would be contributing eager young life. Her dutiful, rather perfunctory - letters had made that much about her clear. They needed that. - </p> - <p> - During the talk with Withery—it kept coming, up—he had heard - his own voice saying—in curiously deliberate tones—astonishing - things. He had sent his friend away in a state of deepest concern. He - thought of writing him. A letter might catch him at Shanghai. There would - be time in the morning, during the long early hours before this household - down here would be awaking and gathering for breakfast. It would help, he - felt impulsively, to explain fully... But what? What was it that was to be - so easily explained? Could he erase, with a few strokes of a pen, the - unhappy impression he had made that night on Henry's brain? - </p> - <p> - The suggestion of marriage, with its implication of a rather cynical - worldly wisdom, had come oddly from the devout Henry. Henry was older, - too. But Doane winced at the mere recollection. He was almost excitedly - sensitive on the topic. He had put women out of his mind, and was - determined to keep them out. But at times thoughts of them slipped in. - </p> - <p> - On the walk to Ping Yang, the second afternoon, he was swinging down a - valley where the road was no more than the stony bed of an - anciently-diverted stream. The caravan of a mandarin passed, bound - doubtless from Peking to a far western province. That it was a great - mandarin was indicated by his richly decorated sedan chair borne by - sixteen footmen with squadrons of cavalry before and behind. Five mule - litters followed, each with a brightly painted, young face pressed against - the tiny square window, the wives or concubines of the great one. Each - demurely studied him through slanting eyes. And the last one smiled; - quickly, brightly. It was death to be caught at that, yet life was too - strong for her. He walked feverishly after that. He had said one thing to - Henry... something never before formulated, even in his own thinking. What - was it? Oh, this!—“Henry, I'm full of a fire and energy that no - longer find an outlet in my work. I want to turn to new fields. If I - don't, before it's too late, I may find myself on the rocks.” - </p> - <p> - There was something bitterly, if almost boyishly true in that statement. - The vital, vigorous adult that was developing within him, now, in the - forties, seemed almost unrelated to the young man he had been. He felt - life, strength, power. In spirit he was younger than ever. All he had - done, during more than twenty years, seemed but a practising for something - real, a schooling. Now, standing there, a stern figure, on the Hankow - Bund, he was aware of a developed, flowering instinct for the main - currents of the mighty social stream, for rough, fresh contacts, large - enterprises. His religion had been steadily widening out from the creed of - his youth, gradually including all living things, all growth, far - outspreading the set boundaries of churchly thought. This development of - his spirit had immensely widened his spiritual influence among the Chinese - of the province while at the same time making it increasingly different to - talk frankly with fellow churchmen. - </p> - <p> - He had come to find more of the bread of life in Emerson and Montaigne, - Chaucer and Shakespeare; less in Milton and Peter. He could consider Burns - now with a new pity, without moral condescension, with simple love. He - could feel profoundly the moral triumph of Hester Prynne, while wondering - at what seemed his own logic. He struggled against a weakening faith in - the authenticity of divine revelation, as against a deepening perception - that the Confucian precepts might well be a healthy and even sufficient - outgrowth of fundamental Chinese characteristics. - </p> - <p> - He thought, at times rather grimly, of the trials for heresy that now and - then rocked the church; and wondered, as grimly, how soon the heresy - hunters would be getting around to him. The smallest incident might, - sooner or later would, set them after him. - </p> - <p> - Henry Withery was certain, in spite of his personal loyalty, out of his - very concern, to drop a word. And there was literally no word he could - drop, after their talk, but would indicate potential heresy in his friend, - James Griggsby Doane. - </p> - <p> - Or it might come from within the compound. Or from a passing stranger. Or - from remarks of his own at the annual conference. Or from letters. - </p> - <p> - There were moments when he could have invited exposure as a relief from - doubt and torment of soul. There was nothing of the hypocrite in him. But - in soberer moments he felt certain that it was letter to wait until he - could find, if not divine guidance, at least an intelligent earthly plan. - </p> - <p> - All he could do, as it stood, was to work harder and harder with body and - mind. And to shoulder more and more responsibility. Without that he would - be like a wild engine, charging to destruction. - </p> - <p> - His daughter would be, for a time certainly, one more burden. He was glad. - Anything that would bring life real again! Work above all; every waking - moment, if possible, filled; his mental and physical powers taxed to their - uttermost; that was the thing; crowd out the brooding, the mere feeling. - Action, all the time, and hard, objective thought. The difficulty was that - his powers were so great; he seemed never to tire any more; his thoughts - could dwell on many planes at once; he actually needed but a few hours' - sleep.... And so Betty would be a young woman now, mysteriously as old as - her mother on her wedding day: a young woman of unknown interests and - sympathies, of a world he himself had all but ceased to know. And it came - upon him suddenly, then with tremendous emotional force, that he had no - heritage to leave her but a good name. - </p> - <p> - He stood gripping the railing, head back, gazing up out of misty eyes at a - white-flecked blue sky. A prayer arose from his heart and, a whisper, - passed his lips: “O God, show me Thy truth, that it may set me.” - </p> - <p> - In the intensity of his brooding he had forgotten to watch for the - steamer. But now he became aware of a stir of life along the river-front. - The beggars were paddling out into the stream, making ready their little - baskets at the ends of bamboo poles. - </p> - <p> - Over the cliffs, down-stream, hung a long film of smoke. The steamer had - rounded the bend and was plowing rapidly up toward the twin cities. He - could make out the two white stripes on the funnel, and the cluster of - ventilators about it, and the new canvas across the front of the bridge. A - moment later he could see the tiny figures crowding the rail. - </p> - <p> - The steamer warped in alongside a new wharf. - </p> - <p> - Doane stood near the gangway, all emotion, nearly out of control. - </p> - <p> - From below hundreds of coolies, countrymen and ragged soldiers swarmed up, - to be herded off at one side of the wharf. The local coolies went aboard - and promptly started unloading freight, handling crates and bales of half - a ton weight with the quick, half grunted, half sung chanteys, intricately - rhythmical, with which all heavy labor is accompanied in the Yangtse - Valley. - </p> - <p> - Two spectacled Chinese merchants in shimmering silk robes came down the - gangway. A tall American, in civilian dress and overcoat but carrying a - leather sword case, followed. Two missionaries came, one in Chinese dress - with a cue attached to his skull-cap, bowing to the stern giant as they - passed. Then a French father in black robe and shovel hat; a group of - Englishmen; a number of families, American, British, French; and finally, - coming along the shaded deck, the familiar kindly face and silvery heard - of Doctor Hasmer—he was distinctly growing older, Hasmer—then - his wife, and, emerging from the cabin, a slim little figure, rather - smartly dressed, extraordinarily pretty, radiating a quick charm as she - hurried to the gangway, there pausing a moment to search the wharf. - </p> - <p> - Her eyes met his. She smiled. - </p> - <p> - It was Betty. He felt her charm, but his heart was sinking. - </p> - <p> - She kissed him. She seemed all enthusiasm, even very happy. But a moment - later, walking along the wharf toward the Bund, her soft little face was - sad. He wondered, as his thoughts whirled around, about that. - </p> - <p> - Her clothes, her beauty, her bright manner, indicating a girlish eagerness - to be admired, wouldn't do at the mission. And she couldn't wear those - trim little shoes with heels half an inch higher than a man's. - </p> - <p> - She had, definitely, the gift and the thought of adorning herself. She was - a good girl; there was stuff in her. But it wouldn't do; not out there in - T'ainan. And she looked like anything in the world but a teacher. - </p> - <p> - She fascinated him. She was the lovely creature his own little girl had - become. Walking beside her up the Bund, chatting with the Hasmers, making - a fair show of calm, his heart swelled with love and pride. She was - delicate, shyly adorable, gently feminine. - </p> - <p> - It was going to be difficult to speak about her costume and her charming - ways. It wouldn't do to crush her. She was quick enough; very likely she - would pick up the tone of the compound very quickly and adapt herself to - it. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>oung Li Hsien, of - T'ainan had come up on the boat. Doans talked a moment with him on the - wharf. He was taking the Peking Express in the morning, traveling - first-class. The boy's father was a wealthy banker and had always been - generous with his firstborn son. - </p> - <p> - Li appeared in the dining-car at noon, calmly smiling, and, at Doane's - imitation, sat with him and Betty. He carried a copy of <i>Thus Spake - Zarathustra</i>, in English, with a large number of protruding paper - bookmarks. - </p> - <p> - Doane glanced in some surprise at the volume lying rather ostentatiously - on the table, and then at the pigtailed young man who ate foreign food - with an eagerness and a relish that indicated an excited interest in novel - experiment not commonly found among his race. - </p> - <p> - They talked in Chinese. Li had much to say of the Japanese. He admired - them for adopting and adapting to their own purposes the material - achievements of the Western world. He had evidently heard something of - Theodore Roosevelt and rather less of Lloyd George and Karl Marx. Doane - was of the opinion, later, that during the tiffin hour the lad had told - all he had learned in six months at Tokio. When asked why he was not - finishing out his college year he smiled enigmatically and spoke of duties - at home. He knew, of course, that Doane would instantly dismiss the reason - as meaningless; it was his Chinese way of suggesting that he preferred not - to answer the question. - </p> - <p> - Twenty-four hours later they transferred their luggage to the Hansi Line, - and headed westward into the red hills; passing, within an hour, through - the southern extension of the Great Wall, now a ruin. The night was passed - in M. Pourmont's compound at Ping Yang. After this there were two other - nights in ancient, unpleasant village inns. - </p> - <p> - Duane made every effort to lessen the discomforts of the journey. - Outwardly kind, inwardly emotions fought with one another. He felt now - that he should never have sent for Betty; never in the world She seemed to - have had no practical training. She grew quiet and wistful as the journey - proceeded. The little outbreaks of enthusiasm over this or that - half-remembered glimpse of native life came less frequently from day to - day. - </p> - <p> - There were a number of young men at Ping Yang; one French engineer who - spoke excellent English; an Australian; others, and two or three young - matrons who had adventurously accompanied their husbands into the - interior. They all called in the evening. The hospitable Pourmont took up - rugs and turned on the talking-machine, and the young people danced. - </p> - <p> - Doane sat apart, watched the gracefully gliding couples; tried to smile. - The dance was on, Betty in the thick of it, before he realized what was - meant. He couldn't have spoken without others hearing. It was plain enough - that she entered into it without a thought; though as the evening wore on - he thought she glanced at him, now and then, rather thoughtfully. And he - found himself, at these moments, smiling with greater determination and - nodding at her. - </p> - <p> - The incident plunged him, curiously, swiftly, into the heart of his own - dilemma. He rested an elbow on a table and shaded his eyes, trying, as he - had been trying all these years, to think. - </p> - <p> - What a joyous little thing she was! What a fairy! And dancing seemed, now, - a means of expression for her youth and her gift of charm. And there was - an exquisite delight, he found, in watching her skill with the young men. - She was gay, quick, tactful. Clearly young men had, before this, admired - her. He wondered what sort of men. - </p> - <p> - She interrupted this brooding with one of those slightly perturbed - glances. Quickly he lowered his hand in order that she might see him - smile; but she had whirled away. - </p> - <p> - Joy!... Not before this moment, not in all the years of puzzled, sometimes - bitter thinking, had he realized the degree in which mission life—for - that matter, the very religion of his denominational variety—shut - joy out. They were afraid of it. They fought it. In their hearts they - associated it with vice It was of this world; their eyes were turned - wholly to another. - </p> - <p> - His teeth grated together. The muscles of his strong jaws moved; bunched - on his cheeks. He knew now that he believed in joy as an expression of - life. - </p> - <p> - Had he known where to turn for the money he would gladly have planned, at - this moment, to send Betty back to the States, give her more of an - education, even arrange for her to study drawing and painting. For on the - train, during their silences, she had sketched the French conductor, the - French-speaking Chinese porter, the sleepy, gray-brown, walled villages, - the wide, desert-like flats of the Hoang-Ho, the tumbling hills. He was - struck by her persistence at it; the girlish energy she put into it. - </p> - <p> - That night, late, long after the music had stopped and the last guests had - left for their dwellings about the large compound, she came across the - corridor and tapped at his door. She wore a kimono of Japan; her abundant - brown hair rippled about her shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “Just one more good night, Daddy,” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - And then, turning away, she added this, softly: - </p> - <p> - “I never thought about the dancing until—well, we'd started...” - </p> - <p> - He stood a long moment in silence, then said: - </p> - <p> - “I'm glad you had a pleasant evening, dear. We—we're rather quiet at - T'ainan.” - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>ao Ting Chuan was - a man of great shrewdness and considerable distinction of appearance, - skilled in ceremonial intercourse, a master of the intricate courses a - prominent official must steer between beautifully phrased moral and - ethical maxims on the one hand and complicated political trickery on the - other. But, as Doane had said, he knew the cost of indemnities. It was on - his shrewdness, his really great intelligence, and on his firm control of - the “gentry and people” of the province that Doane relied to prevent any - such frightful slaughter of whites and destruction of their property as - had occurred in 1900. Pao, unlike most of the higher mandarins, was - Chinese, not Manchu. - </p> - <p> - The tao-tai of the city of T'ainan-fu, Chang Chih Ting, was an older man - than Pao, less vigorous of body and mind, simpler and franker. He was of - those who bewail the backwardness of China. - </p> - <p> - From the tao-tai's yamen, on the first day of the great April fair, set - forth His Excellency in full panoply of state—a green official chair - with many bearers, an escort of twenty footmen, with runners on ahead. - </p> - <p> - Behind this caravan, hidden from view in the depths of a blue Peking cart, - with the conventional extra servant dangling his heels over the foreboard, - rode Griggsby Doane. - </p> - <p> - The principal feature of the opening day was a theatrical performance. The - play, naturally, was an historical satire, shouted and occasionally sung - by the heavily-costumed actors, to a continuous accompaniment of wailing - strings. The stage was a platform in the open air, under a tree hung with - bannerets inscribed to the particular spirit supposed to dwell within its - encircling bark. - </p> - <p> - His Excellency stood, with Doane, on a knoll, looking out over the heads - of the vast audience toward the stage. Doane estimated the attendance at - near ten thousand. - </p> - <p> - The play, begun in the early morning, was now well advanced. At its - conclusion, the audience was beginning to break up when a slim blue-clad - figure mounted the platform and began a hurried speech. - </p> - <p> - Chang and Doane looked at each other; then as one man moved forward down - the knoll with the throng. The tao-tai's attendants followed, in scattered - formation. - </p> - <p> - The speaker was Li Hsien. - </p> - <p> - Slowly the magistrate and the missionary made their way toward the stage. - </p> - <p> - At first the crowd, at sight of the magistrate's button and embroidered - insignia, made way as well as they could. But as the impassioned phrases - of Li Hsien sank into their minds resistance developed. From here and - there in the crowd came phrases expressing a vile contempt for foreigners - such as Doane had not heard for years. - </p> - <p> - Li was lashing himself up, crying out more and more vigorously against the - Ho Shan Company, the barbarous white governments from which it derived - force, foreign pigs everywhere. The crowds closed, solidly, before the two - advancing men. - </p> - <p> - The magistrate waved his arms; shouted a command that Li leave the - platform. Li, hearing only a voice of opposition in the crowd, poured out - voluble scorn on his head. The crowd jostled Duane. A stick struck his - cheek. He whirled and caught the stick, but the wielder of it escaped in - the crowd. - </p> - <p> - Chang tried to reason, then, with the few hundred within ear-shot. - </p> - <p> - The sense of violence seemed to be increasing. A few of the magistrate's - escort were struggling through. These formed a circle about him and Doane. - </p> - <p> - Li shouted out charge after charge against the company. He begged his - hearers to be brave, as he was brave; to destroy all the works of the - company with dynamite; to wreck all the grounds of the foreign engineer at - Ping Yang and kill all the occupants; to kill foreigners everywhere and - assert the ancient integrity and superiority of China. “Be brave!” he - cried again. “See, I am brave. I die for Hansi. Can not you, too, die for - Hansi? Can not you think of me, of how I died for our cause, and yourself, - in memory of my act, fight for your beloved country, that it may again be - the proud queen of the earth?” - </p> - <p> - He drew a revolver from his sleeve; shot twice; fell to the stage in a - widening pool of blood. - </p> - <p> - At once the vast crowd went wild. Those near the white man turned on him - as if to kill him. His clothes were torn, his head cut. Man after man he - knocked down with his powerful fists. Before many moments he was exulting - in the struggle, in his strength and the full use of it. - </p> - <p> - The magistrate, struggled beside him. For the people. In their frenzy, - forgot or ignored his rank and overwhelmed him. - </p> - <p> - The runners fought as well as they could. Two or three of them fell. Then - a body of horsemen came charging into the crowd, soldiers from the judge's - yamen, all on shaggy little Manchu ponies, swinging clubbed carbines as - they rode. Right and left, men and boys fell. The crowd broke and - scattered. - </p> - <p> - Chang, bleeding from several small wounds, his exquisitely embroidered - silken garments torn nearly off his body, made his way back to the green - chair. - </p> - <p> - Doane was escorted by soldiers to the mission compound. He slipped in to - wash off the blood and change his clothes without being seen by Betty or - any of the whites. - </p> - <p> - Shortly came two runners of His Excellency, Pao Ting Chuan, bearing trays - of gifts. And a Chinese note expressing deepest regret and pledging - complete protection in the future. - </p> - <p> - Doane dismissed the runners with a Mexican dollar each, and thoughtfully - considered the situation. Pao was strong, very strong. Yet the - self-destruction of Li Hsien would act as a flaming signal to the people - It was the one appeal that might rouse them beyond control. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V—IN T'AINAN - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Boatwrights - were at this time in the thirties; he perhaps thirty-six or seven, she - thirty-three or four. As has already been noted through the observing eyes - of Mr. Withery, Elmer Boatwright had lost the fresh enthusiasm of his - first years in the province. And he had by no means attained the mellow - wisdom that seldom so much as begins to appear in a man before forty. His - was a daily routine of innumerable petty tasks and responsibilities. He - had come to be a washed-out little man, whose unceasing activity was - somehow unconvincing. He had stopped having opinions, even views. He - taught, he kept accounts and records, he conducted meetings, he prayed and - sometimes preached at meetings of the students and the native Christians, - he was kind in a routine way, his rather patient smile was liked about the - compound, but the gift of personality was not his. Even his religion - seemed at times to have settled into routine.... - </p> - <p> - He was small in stature, not plump, with light thin hair and a light thin - mustache. - </p> - <p> - His wife was taller than he, more vigorous, more positive, with something - of an executive gift. The domestic management of the compound was her - province, with teaching in spare hours. Her husband, with fewer petty - activities to absorb his energy until his life settled into a mold, might - have exhibited some of the interesting emotional quality that is rather - loosely called temperament; for that matter it was still a possibility - during the soul-shaking changes of middle life; certainly his odd, early - taste for taxidermy had carried him to the borders of a sort of artistry; - but her own gift was distinctly that of activity. She seemed a wholly - objective person. She was physically strong, inclined to sternness, or at - least to rigidity of view, yet was by no means unkind. The servants - respected her. She was troubled by no doubts. Her religious faith, like - her housekeeping practise, was a settled thing. Apparently her thinking - was all of the literal things about her. Of humor she had never shown a - trace. Without the strong proselyting impetus that had directed and - colored her life she might have become a rather hard, sharp-tongued - village housewife. But at whatever cost to herself she had brought her - tongue under control. As a result, having no mental lightness or grace, - she talked hardly at all. When she disapproved, which was not seldom, she - became silent. - </p> - <p> - The relation between this couple and Griggsby Doane had grown subtly - complicated through the years that followed the death of Mrs. Doane. - Doane, up in his simply furnished attic room, living wholly alone, never - interfered in the slightest detail of Mrs. Boatwright's management. Like - her, when he disapproved, he kept still. But he might as well have spoken - out, for she knew, nearly always, what he was thinking. The deepest - blunder she made during this period was to believe, as she firmly did, - that she knew all, instead of nearly all his thoughts. The side of him - that she was incapable of understanding, the intensely, warmly human side, - appeared to her merely as a curiously inexplicable strain of weakness in - him that might, some day, crop out and make trouble. She felt a strain of - something disastrous in his nature. She regarded his growing passion for - solitude as a form of self-indulgence. She knew that he was given more and - more to brooding; and brooding—all independent thought, in fact—alarmed - her. Her own deepest faith was in what she thought of as submission to - divine will and in self-suppression. But she respected him profoundly. And - he respected her. Each knew something of the strength in the other's - nature. And so they lived on from day to day and year to year in a - practised avoidance of conflict or controversy. And between them her busy - little husband acted as a buffer without ever becoming aware that a buffer - was necessary in this quiet, well-ordered, industrious compound. - </p> - <p> - Regarding the change of tone for the more severe and the worse that had - impressed and disturbed Withery, none of the three but Duane had - formulated a conscious thought. Probably the less kindly air was really - more congenial to Mrs. Boatwright. Her husband was not a man ever to - survey himself and his environment with detachment. And both were much - older and more severe at this time than they were to be at fifty. - </p> - <p> - The introduction of Betty Doane into this delicately balanced household - precipitated a crisis. Breakfast was served in the mission house at a - quarter to eight. Not once in a month was it five minutes late. A delay of - half an hour would have thrown Mrs. Boatwright out of her stride for the - day. - </p> - <p> - During the first few days after her arrival Betty appeared on time. It was - clearly necessary. Mrs. Boatwright was hostile. Her father was busy and - preoccupied. She herself was moved deeply by a girlish determination to - find some small niche for herself in this driving little community. The - place was strange to her. There seemed little or no companionship. Even - Miss Hemphill, the head teacher, whom she remembered from her girlhood, - and Dr. Mary Cassin, who was in charge of the dispensary and who had a - pleasant, almost pretty face, seemed as preoccupied as Griggsby Doane. - During her mother's lifetime there had been an air of friendliness, of - kindness, about the compound that was gone now. Perhaps less work had been - accomplished then than now under the firm rule of Mrs. Boatwright, but it - had been a happier little community. - </p> - <p> - From the moment she rode in through the great oak, nail-studded gates of - the compound, and the mules lurched to their knees, and her father helped - her out through the little side door of the red and blue litter, Betty - knew that she was exciting disapproval. The way they looked at her neat - traveling suit, her becoming turban, her shoes, worked sharply on her - sensitive young nerves. She was aware even of the prim way they walked, - these women—of their extremely modest self-control—and of the - puzzling contrast set up with the free activity of her own slim body; - developed by dancing and basketball and healthy romping into a grace that - had hitherto been unconscious. - </p> - <p> - And almost from that first moment, herself hardly aware of what she was - about but feeling that she must be wrong, struggling bravely against an - increasing hurt, her unrooted, nervously responsive young nature struggled - to adapt itself to the new environment. A pucker appeared between her - brows; her voice became hushed and faintly, shyly earnest in tone. Mrs. - Boatwright at once gave her some classes of young girls. Betty went to - Miss Hemphill for detailed advice, and earnestly that first evening read - into a work on pedagogics that the older teacher, after a kindly enough - talk, lent her. - </p> - <p> - She went up to her father's study, just before bedtime on the first - evening, in a spirit of determined good humor. She wanted him to see how - well she was taking hold.... But she came down in a state of depression - that kept her awake for a long time lying in her narrow iron bed, gazing - out into the starlit Chinese heavens. She felt his grave kindness, but - found that she didn't know him. Here in the compound, with all his burden - of responsibility settled on his broad shoulders, he had receded from her. - He would sit and look at her, with sadness in his eyes, not catching all - she said; then would start a little, and smile, and take her hand. - </p> - <p> - She found that she couldn't unpack all her things; not for days. There - were snapshots of boy and girl members of “the crowd,” away off there, - beyond the brown hills, beyond the ruined wall, beyond the yellow plains, - and the Pacific Ocean and the wide United States, off in a little New - Jersey town, on the other side of the world. There were parcels of dance - programs, with little white pencils dangling from silken white cords. - There were programs of plays, with cryptic pencilings, and copies of a - high-school paper, and packets of letters. She couldn't trust herself to - look at these treasures. And she put her drawing things away. - </p> - <p> - And other more serious difficulties arose to provoke sober thoughts. One - occurred the first time she played tennis with her father; the day before - Li Hsien's suicide. The court had been laid out on open ground adjoining - the compound. Small school buildings and a wall shut it off from the front - street, and a Chinese house-wall blocked the other end; but the farther - side lay open to a narrow footway. Here a number of Chinese youths - gathered and watched the play. It happened that none of the white women - attached to the mission at this time was a tennis player; and the - spectacle of a radiant girl darting about with grace and zest and - considerable athletic skill was plainly an experience to the onlookers. At - first they were respectful enough; but as their numbers grew voices were - raised, first in laughter, then in unpleasant comment. Finally all the - voices seemed to burst out at once in chorus of ribaldry and invective. - Betty stopped short in her play, alarmed and confused. - </p> - <p> - These shouted remarks grew in insolence. All through her girlhood Betty - had grown accustomed to occasional small outbreaks from the riff-raff of - T'ainan. She recalled that her father had always chosen to ignore them. - But there was a new boldness evident in the present group, as the numbers - increased and more and more voices joined in. And it was evident, from an - embroidered robe here and there, that not all were riff-raff. - </p> - <p> - Her father lowered his racket and walked to the net. - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry, dear,” he said; “but this won't do.” - </p> - <p> - Obediently she returned to the mission house; while Doane went over to the - fence. But before he could reach it the youths, jeering, hurried away. - That evening he told Betty he would have a wall built along the footway. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ithin less than a - week Betty found herself fighting off a heart-sickness that was to prove, - for the time, irresistible. On the sixth evening, after the house had - became still and her big, kind father had said good night—in some - ways, at moments, he seemed almost close to her; at other moments, - especially now, at night, in the solitude, he was hopelessly far away, a - dim figure on the farther shore of the gulf that lies, bottomless, between - every two human souls—she locked herself in her little room and sat, - very still, with drooping face and wet eyes, by the open window. - </p> - <p> - The big Oriental city was silent, asleep, except for the distant sound of - a watchman banging his gong and shouting musically on his rounds. The - spring air, soft, moistly warm, brought to her nostrils the smell of - China; and brought with it, queerly disjointed, hauntlike memories of her - childhood in the earlier mission house that had stood on this same bit of - ground. She closed her eyes, and saw her mother walking in quiet dignity - about the compound, the same compound in which Luella Brenty, a girl of - hardly more than her-own present age, was, in 1900, burned at the stake. - Down there where the ghostly tablet stood, by the chapel steps. - </p> - <p> - She shivered. There was trouble now. They were talking about it among - themselves, if not in her presence. That would doubtless explain her - father's preoccupation.... She must hurry to bed. She knew she was tired; - and it wouldn't do to be late for breakfast. And she had a class in - English at 8:45. - </p> - <p> - But instead she got out the bottom tray of her trunk and mournfully - staring long at each, went through her photographs. She had been a nice - girl, there in the comfortable American town. Here she seemed less nice. - As if, in some way, over there in the States, her nature had changed for - the worse. They looked at her so. They were not friendly. No, not that. - Yet this was home, her only home. The other had seemed to be home, but it - was now a dream... gone. She could never again pick up her place in the - old crowd. It would be changing. That, she thought, in the brooding - reverie known to every imaginative, sensitive boy and girl, was the sad - thing about life. It slipped away from you; you could nowhere put your - feet down solidly. If, another year, she could return, the crowd would be - changed. New friendships would be formed. The boys who had been fond of - her would now be fond of others. Some of the girls might be married... She - herself was changed. A man—an older man, who had been married, was, - in a way, married at the time—-had taken her in his arms and kissed - her. It w'as a shock. It hurt now. She couldn't think how it had happened, - how it had ever begun. She couldn't even visualize the man, now, with her - eyes closed. She couldn't be sure even that she liked him. He was a - strange being. He had interested her by startling her. Romance had seized - them. He said that. He said it would be different at Shanghai. It was - different; very puzzling, saddening. There was no doubt as to what Mrs. - Boatwright would say about it, if she knew. Or Miss Hemphill. Any of - them.... She wondered what her father would say. She couldn't tel! him. It - had to be secret. There were things in life that had to be; but she - wondered what he would say. - </p> - <p> - But she was, with herself, here in her solitude, honest about it. It had - happened. She didn't blame the man. In his strange way, he was real. He - had meant it. She had read his letter over and over, on the steamer, and - here in T'ainan. It was moving, exciting to her that odd letter. And he - had gone without a further word because he felt it to be the best way. She - was sure of that.... She didn't blame herself, though it hurt. No, she - couldn't blame him. Yet it was now, as it had been at the time, a sort of - blinding, almost an unnerving shock.... Probably they would never meet - again. It was a large world, after all; you couldn't go back and pick up - dropped threads. But if they should meet, by some queer chance, what would - they do, what could they say? For he lingered vividly with her; his rough - blunt phrases came up, at lonely moments, in her mind. He had stirred and, - queerly, bewilderingly, humbled her.... She wondered, all nerves, what his - wife was like. How she looked. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps it was this change in her that these severe women noticed. Perhaps - her inner life lay open to their experienced eyes. She could do nothing - about it, just set her teeth and live through somehow.... Though it - couldn't be wholly that, because she had worn the clothes they didn't like - before it happened, and had danced, and played like a child. And they - didn't seem to care much for her drawing; though Miss Hemphill had, she - knew, suggested to Mr. Boatwright that he let her try teaching a small - class of the Chinese girls.... No, it wasn't that. It must, then, be - something in her nature. - </p> - <p> - She had read, back home—or in the States—in a woman's - magazine, that every woman has two men in her life, the one she loves, or - who has stirred her, and the one she marries. The girls, in some - excitement, had discussed it. There had been confidences. - </p> - <p> - She might marry. It was possible. And even now she saw clearly enough, as - every girl sees when life presses, that marriage might, at any moment, - present itself as a way out. The thought was not stimulating. The pictures - it raised lacked the glowing color of her younger and more romantic - dreams.... That mining engineer was writing her, from Korea. His name was - Apgar, Harold B. Apgar; he was stocky, strong, with an attractive square - face and quiet gray eyes. She liked him. But his letters were going to be - hard to answer. - </p> - <p> - The soft air that fanned her softer cheek brought utter melancholy. She - felt, as only the young can feel, that her life, with her merry youth, was - over. Grim doors had closed on it. Joy lay behind those doors. Ahead lay - duties, discipline, the somber routine of womanhood. - </p> - <p> - She shivered and stirred. This brooding wouldn't do. - </p> - <p> - She got out a pad of paper and a pencil, and sitting there in the dim - light, sketched with deft fingers the roofs and trees of T'ainan, as they - appeared in the moonlight of spring, with a great faint gate tower bulking - high above a battlemented wall. Until far into the morning she drew, - forgetful of the hours, finding a degree of melancholy pleasure in the - exercise of the expressive faculty that had become second nature to her. - </p> - <p> - She slept, then, like a child, until mid-forenoon. It was nearly eleven - o'clock when she hurried, ready to smile quickly to cover her confusion, - down to the dining-room. - </p> - <p> - The breakfast things had been cleared away more than two hours earlier. - The table boy (so said the cook) had gone to market. She ate, rather - shamefaced, a little bread and butter (she was finding it difficult to get - used to this tinned butter from New Zealand). - </p> - <p> - In the parlor Mrs. Boatwright sat at her desk. She heard Betty at the - door, lifted her head for a cool bow, then resumed her work. Not a word - did she speak or invite. There was an apology trembling on the tip of - Betty's tongue, but she had to hold it back and turn away. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he day after the - suicide of Li Hsien rumors began to drift into the compound. News travels - swiftly in China. The table “boy” (a man of fifty-odd) brought interesting - bits from the market, always a center for gossip of the city and the - mid-provincial region about it. The old gate-keeper, Sun Shao-i, picked up - much of the roadside talk. And the several other men helpers about the - compound each contributed his bit. The act of the fanatical student had, - at the start, as Doane anticipated, an electrical effect on public - sentiment. Suicide is by no means generally regarded in China as a sign of - failure. It is employed, at times of great stress, as a form of deliberate - protest; and is then taken as heroism. - </p> - <p> - So reports came that the always existent hatred of foreigners was rising, - and might get out of control. A French priest was murdered on the Kalgan - highway, after protracted torture during which his eyes and tongue were - fed to village dogs. This, doubtless, as retaliation for similar practises - commonly attributed to the white missionaries. The fact that the local - Shen magistrate promptly caught and beheaded a few of the ringleaders - appeared to have small deterrent effect on public feeling. - </p> - <p> - Detachments of strange-appearing soldiers, wearing curious insignia, were - marching into the province over the Western Mountains. A native worker at - one of the mission outposts wrote that they broke into his compound and - robbed him of food, but made little further trouble. - </p> - <p> - Reports bearing on the activities of the new Great Eye Society—already - known along the wayside as “The Lookers”—were coming in daily. The - Lookers were initiating many young men into their strange magic, which - appeared to differ from the incantations of the Boxers of 1900 more in - detail than in spirit. - </p> - <p> - And in the western, villages this element was welcoming the new soldiers. - </p> - <p> - Here in T'ainan disorder was increasing. An old native, helper of Dr. - Cassin in the dispensary, was mobbed on the street and given a beating - during which his arm was broken. He managed to walk to the compound, and - was now about with the arm in a sling, working quietly as usual. But it - was evident that native Christians must, as usual in times of trouble, - suffer for their faith. - </p> - <p> - On the following afternoon the tao-tai called, in state, with bearers, - runners, soldiers and secretaries. The main courtyard of the compound was - filled with the richly colored chairs and the silks and satins and plumed - ceremonial hats of his entourage. For more than an hour he was closeted - with Griggsby Doane, while the Chinese schoolgirls, very demure, stole - glances from curtained windows at the beautiful young men in the - courtyard. - </p> - <p> - By this impressive visit, and by his long stay, Chang Chih Ting clearly - meant to impress on the whole city his friendship for these foreign - devils. For the whole city would know of it within an hour; all middle - Hansi would know by nightfall. - </p> - <p> - He brought disturbing news. It had been obvious to Doane that the menacing - new society could hardly spread and thrive without some sort of secret - official backing. He was inclined to trust Chang. He believed, after days - of balancing the subtle pros and cons in his mind, that Pao Ting Chuan - would keep order. And he knew that the official who was responsible for - the province—as Pao virtually was—could keep order if he - chose. - </p> - <p> - Chang, always naively open with Doane, supported him in this view. But it - was strongly rumored at the tao-tai's yamen that the treasurer, Kang Hsu, - old as he was, weakened by opium, for the past two or three years an - inconsiderable figure in the province, had lately been in correspondence - with the Western soldiers. And officers from his yamen had been recognized - as among the drill masters of the Looker bands. Chang had reported these - proceedings to His Excellency, he said (“His Excellency,” during this - period, meant always Pao, though Kang Hsu, as treasurer, ranked him) and - had been graciously thanked. It was also said that Kang had cured himself - of opium smoking by locking himself in a room and throwing pipe, rods, - lamp and all his supply of the drug out of a window. For two weeks he had - suffered painfully, and had nearly died of a diarrhea; but now had - recovered and was even gaining in weight, though still a skeleton. - </p> - <p> - Doane caught himself shaking his head, with Chang, over this remarkable - self-cure. It would apparently be better for the whites were Kang to - resume his evil ways. It was clear to these deeply experienced men that - Kang's motives would be mixed. Doubtless he had been stirred to jealousy - by Pao. It seemed unlikely that he, or any prominent mandarin, could - afford to run the great risks involved in setting the province afire so - soon after 1900. Perhaps he knew a way to lay the fresh troubles at Pao's - gate. Or perhaps he had come to believe, with his befuddled old brain, in - the Looker incantations. Only seven years earlier the belief of ruling - Manchus in Boxer magic had led to the siege of the legations and something - near the ruin of China. Come to think of it, Kang, unlike Pao and Chang, - was a Manchu. - </p> - <p> - Chang also brought with him a copy of the Memorial left by Li Hsien, which - it appeared was being widely circulated in the province. The document gave - an interesting picture of the young man's complicated mind. His death had - been theatrical and, in manner, Western, modern. Suicides of protest were - traditionally managed in private. But the memorial was utterly Chinese, - written with all the customary indirection, dwelling on his devotion to - his parents and his native land, as on his own worthlessness; quoting apt - phrases from Confucius, Mencius and Tseng Tzu; quite, indeed, in the best - traditional manner. And he left a letter to his elder brother, couched in - language humble and tender, giving exact directions for his funeral, down - to the arrangement of his clothing and the precise amount to be paid to - the Taoist priest, together with instructions as to the disposition of his - small personal estate. Doane pointed out that these documents were - designed to impress on the gentry his loyal conformity to ancient - tradition, while his motives were revolutionary and his final act was - designed to excite the mob at the fair and folk of their class throughout - the province. Chang believed he had scholarly help in preparing the - documents. And both men felt it of sober significance that the memorial - was addressed to “His Excellency, Kang Hsu, Provincial Treasurer.” - </p> - <p> - That Li Hsien's inflammatory denunciation of “the foreign engineer at Ping - Yang” had an almost immediate effect was indicated by the news from that - village at the railhead. M. Puurmont wrote, in French, that an Australian - stake-boy had been shot through the lungs while helping an instrument man - in the hills. He was alive, but barely so, at the time of writing. As a - result of this and certain lesser difficulties, M. Pourmont was calling in - his engineers and mine employees, and putting them to work improvising a - fort about his compound, and had telegraphed Peking for a large shipment - of tinned food. He added that there would be plenty of room in case Doane - later should decide to gather in his outpost workers and fall back toward - the railroad. - </p> - <p> - Doane translated this letter into Chinese for Chang's benefit. - </p> - <p> - “Has he firearms?” asked the tao-tai. - </p> - <p> - Doane inclined his head. “More than the treaty permits,” he replied. “He - told me last winter that he thought it necessary.” - </p> - <p> - “It is as well,” said Chang. “Though it is not necessary for you to leave - yet. To do that would be to invite misunderstanding.” - </p> - <p> - “It would invite attack,” said Doane. - </p> - <p> - It was on the morning after Chang's call that the telegram came from Jen - Ling Pu. Doane was crossing the courtyard when he heard voices in the gate - house; then Sun Shao-i came down the steps and gave him the message. He at - once sent a chit to Pao, writing it in pencil against a wall; then ordered - a cart brought around. Within an hour the boy was back. Pao had written on - the margin of the note: “Will see you immediately.” - </p> - <p> - For once the great mandarin did not keep him waiting. The two inner gates - of the yamen opened for him one after the other, and his cart was driven - across the tiled inner court to the yamen porch. It was an unheard-of - honor. Plainly, Pao, like the lesser Chang, purposed standing by his guns, - and meant that the city should know. By way of emphasis, Pao himself, - tall, stately, magnificent in his richly embroidered robe, the peacock - emblem of a civil mandarin of the third-class embroidered on the breast, - the girdle clasp of worked gold, wearing the round hat of office crowned - with a large round ruby—Pao, deep and musical of voice, met him in - the shadowy porch and conducted him to the reception room. Instantly the - tea appeared, and they could talk. - </p> - <p> - “Your Excellency,” said Doane, “a Christian worker in So T'ung, one Jen - Ling Pu, telegraphs me that strange soldiers, helped by members of the - Great Eye Society, last night attacked his compound. They have burned the - gate house, but have no firearms. At eight this morning, with the aid of - the engineer for the Ho Shan Company in that region, and with only two - revolvers, he was defending the compound. I am going there. I will leave - this noon.” - </p> - <p> - “I hear your alarming words with profound regret,” Pao's deep voice rolled - about the large high room. “My people are suffering under an excitement - which causes them to forget their responsibility as neighbors and their - duty to their fellow men. I will send soldiers with you.” - </p> - <p> - “Soldiers should be sent, Your Excellency, and at once. Well-armed men. - But I shall not wait.” - </p> - <p> - “You are not going alone? And not in your usual manner, on foot?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Your Excellency.” - </p> - <p> - “But that may be unsafe.”. - </p> - <p> - “My safety is of little consequence.” - </p> - <p> - “It is of great consequence to me.” - </p> - <p> - “For that I thank you. But it is to So T'ung a hundred and eighty <i>li</i>. - The best mules or horses will need two days. I can walk there in less than - one day. I have walked there in twenty hours.” - </p> - <p> - “You are a man of courage. I will order the soldiers to start by noon.” - </p> - <p> - Back at the compound, Doane assembled his staff in one of the schoolrooms. - Mr. and Mrs. Boatwright were there, Miss Hemphill and Dr. Cassin. He laid - the telegram before them, and repeated his conversation with the - provincial judge. - </p> - <p> - They listened soberly. For a brief time one spoke. Then Mrs. Boatwright - asked, bluntly: - </p> - <p> - “You are sure you ought to go?” - </p> - <p> - Doane inclined his head. - </p> - <p> - “If things are as bad as this, how about our safety here?” - </p> - <p> - “You will be protected. Both Pao and Chang will see to that. And in case - of serious danger—something unforeseen, you must demand an escort to - Ping Yang. You will be safe there with Monsieur Pourmont.” - </p> - <p> - “How about your own safety?” - </p> - <p> - “I have put the responsibility squarely on Pao's shoulders. He knows what - I am going to do. He is sending soldiers after me. He will undoubtedly - telegraph ahead; he'll have to do that.” - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>etty was in his - study, standing by the window. She turned quickly when he came in. He - closed the door, and affecting a casual manner passed her with a smile and - went into the bedroom for the light bag with a shoulder strap, the blanket - roll and the ingenious light folding cot that he always carried on these - expeditions if there was likelihood of his being caught overnight at - native inns. He put on his walking boots and leggings, picked up his thin - raincoat and the heavy stick that was his only weapon, and returned to the - study. - </p> - <p> - He felt Betty's eyes on him, and tried to speak in an offhand manner. - </p> - <p> - “I'm off to So T'ung, Betty. Be back within two or three days.” - </p> - <p> - She came over, slowly, hesitating, and lingered the blanket roll. - </p> - <p> - “Will there he danger at So T'ung, Dad?” she asked gently. - </p> - <p> - “Very little, I think.” - </p> - <p> - He saw that neither his words nor his manner answered the questions in her - hind. Patting her shoulder, he added: - </p> - <p> - “Kiss me good-by, child. You've been listening to the chatter of the - compound. The worst place for gossip in the world.” - </p> - <p> - But she laid a light finger on the court-plaster that covered a cut on his - cheek-bone. - </p> - <p> - “You never said a word about that, Dad. It was the riot at the fair. I - know. You had to fight with them. And Li Hsien killed himself.” - </p> - <p> - “But His Excellency put down the trouble at once. That is over.” - </p> - <p> - She sank slowly into the swivel chair before the desk; dropped her cheek - on her hand; said, in a low uneven voice: - </p> - <p> - “No one talks to me... tells me...” - </p> - <p> - He looked down at her, standing motionless. His eyes filled. Then, - deliberately, he put his park aside, and seated himself at the other side - of the desk. - </p> - <p> - She looked up, with a wistful smile. - </p> - <p> - “I'm not afraid, Dad.” - </p> - <p> - “You wouldn't be,” said he gravely. - </p> - <p> - “No. But there is trouble, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. There is trouble.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you think it will be as—as bad as—nineteen hundred?” - </p> - <p> - “No... no, I'm sure it won't. The officials simply can't afford to let - that awful thing happen again.” - </p> - <p> - “It would be... well, discouraging,” said she thoughtfully. “Wouldn't it? - To have all your work undone again.” - </p> - <p> - He found himself startled by her impersonal manner. He saw her, abruptly - then, as a mature being. He didn't know how to talk to her. This - thoughtful young woman was, curiously, a stranger.... And this was the - first moment in which it had occurred to him that she might already have - had beginning adult experience. She was an individual; had a life of her - own to manage. There would have been men. She was old enough to have - thought about marriage, even. It seemed incredible.... He sighed. - </p> - <p> - “You're worried about me,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “I shouldn't have brought you out here, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't fit in.” - </p> - <p> - “It is a great change for you.” - </p> - <p> - “I... I'm no good.” - </p> - <p> - “Betty, dear—that is not true. I can't let you say that, or think - it.” - </p> - <p> - “But it's the truth. I'm no good. I've tried. I have, Dad. You know, to - put everything behind me and make myself take hold.... And then I draw - half the night, and miss my classes in the morning. It seems to go against - my nature, some way. No matter how hard I try, it doesn't work. The worst - of it is, in my heart I know it isn't going to work.” - </p> - <p> - “I shouldn't have brought you out here.” - </p> - <p> - “But you couldn't help that, Dad.” - </p> - <p> - “It did seem so.... I'm planning now to send you back as soon as we can - manage it.” - </p> - <p> - “But, Dad... the expense...!” - </p> - <p> - “I know. I am thinking about that. There will surely be a way to manage - it, a little later. I mean to find a way.” - </p> - <p> - “But I can't go back to Uncle Frank's.” - </p> - <p> - “I must work it out so that it won't be a burden to him.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean... pay board?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “But think, Dad! I've cost you so much already!” - </p> - <p> - “I am glad you have, dear. I think I've needed that. And I want you to go - back to the Art League. You have a real talent. We must make the most of - it.” Betty's gaze strayed out the window. Her father was a dear man. She - hadn't dreamed he could see into her problems like this. She was afraid - she might cry, so she spoke quickly. - </p> - <p> - “But that means making me still more a burden!” - </p> - <p> - “It is the sort of burden 1 would love, Betty. But don't misunderstand me—I - can't do all this now.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I know!” - </p> - <p> - “You may have to be patient for a time. Tell me, dear, first though... is - it what you want most?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh... why...” - </p> - <p> - “Answer me if you can. If you know what you want most.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if I do know. It's when I try to think that out clearly that it - seems to me I'm no good.” - </p> - <p> - “I recognize, of course, that you are reaching the age when many girls - think of marrying.” - </p> - <p> - “I... oh...” - </p> - <p> - “I don't want to intrude into your intimate thoughts, dear. But in so far - as we can plan together... it may help if...” - </p> - <p> - She spoke with a touch of reserve that might have been, probably was, - shyness. - </p> - <p> - “There have been men, of course, who—-well, wanted to marry me. This - last year. There was one in New York. He used to come out and take me - riding in his automobile. I—I always made some of the other girls - come with us.” - </p> - <p> - Doane found it impossible to visualize this picture. When he was last in - the States there were no automobiles on the streets. It suggested a - condition of which he knew literally nothing, a wholly new set of - influences in the life of young people. The thought was alarming; he had - to close his eyes on it for a moment. Much as his daughter had seemed like - a visitor from another planet, she had never seemed so far off as now. And - he fell to thinking, along with this new picture, of the terribly hard - struggle they had had out here, since 1900, in rebuilding the mission - organization, in training new workers and creating a new morale. He felt - tired.... His brain was tired. It would help to get out on the road again, - swinging gradually into the rhythm of his forty-inch stride. Once more he - would walk himself off, even as he hastened on an errand of rescue. - </p> - <p> - Betty was speaking again. - </p> - <p> - “And there's one now. He's in Korea, a mining engineer. He's awfully nice. - But I—I don't think I could marry him.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you love him, Betty?” - </p> - <p> - “N—no. No, I don't. Though I've wondered, sometimes, about these - things....” The person she was wondering about, as she said this, was - Jonathan Brachey. Suddenly, with her mind's eye, she saw this clearly. And - it was startling. She couldn't so much as mention his name; certainly not - to her father, kind and human as he seemed. But she would never hear from - him again; not now. If he could live through those first few weeks without - so much as writing, he could let the years go. That would have been the - test for her sort of nature, and she could understand no other sort. - </p> - <p> - She compressed her lips. She didn't know that her face showed something of - the trouble in her mind. She spoke, bravely, with an abruptness that - surprised herself a little, as it surprised him. - </p> - <p> - “No, Dad, I shan't marry. Not for years, if ever. I'd rather work. I'd - rather work hard, if only I could fit in somewhere.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm seeing it a little more clearly, Betty.”' He arose. “On the way out - I'll tell Mrs. Boatwright and Miss Hemphill both that I don't want you to - do any more work about the compound.... No, dear, please! Let me - finish!... When you're a few years older, you'll learn as I have learned, - that the important thing is to find your own work, and find it early. So - many lives take the wrong direction, through mistaken judgment, or a - mistaken sense of duty. And nothing—nothing—can so mislead us - as a sense of duty.” - </p> - <p> - He said this with an emphasis that puzzled Betty. - </p> - <p> - “The thing for you,” he went on, “is to draw. And dream. The dreaming will - work out in more drawing, I imagine. For you have the nature of the - artist. Your mother had it. You are like her, with something of my energy - added. Don't let the atmosphere of the compound pull you down. It mustn't - do that. Live within yourself. Let your energy go into honest expression - of yourself. You see what I'm getting at—<i>be</i> yourself. Don't - try to be some one else.... You happen to be here in an interesting time. - There's a possibility that the drawings you could make out here, now, - would have a value later on. So try to make a record of your life here - with your pencil. And don't be afraid of happiness, dear.” He pointed to a - row of jonquils in a window-box. “Happiness is as great a contribution to - life as duty. Think how those flowers contribute! And remember that you - are like them to me.” - </p> - <p> - She clung to him, in impulsive affection, as she kissed him good-by. And - it wasn't until late that night, as she lay in her white bed, such a glow - did he leave in her warm little heart, that the odd nature of his talk - caught her attention. She had never, never, heard him say such things. It - was as if he, her great strong dad, were himself starved for happiness. As - if he wanted her to have all the rich beauty of life that had passed him - grimly by. - </p> - <p> - She fell to wondering, sleepily, what he meant by finding a way to get the - money. There was no way. Though it was dear of him even to think of it. - </p> - <p> - She fell asleep then. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI—CATASTROPHE - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>OANE left the - compound a little before noon, and arrived at So T'ung at six the - following morning. The distance, a hundred and eighty <i>li</i>, was just - short of sixty-five English miles. The road was little more than a - footpath, so narrow that in the mountains, where the grinding of ages of - traffic and the drainage from eroded slopes had long ago worn it down into - a series of deep, narrow canyons, the came! trains, with their wide - panniers, always found passing a matter of difficulty and confusion. Here - it skirted a precipice, or twisted up and up to surmount the Pass of the - Flighting Geese, just west of the sacred mountain; there it wandered along - the lower hillsides above a spring torrent that would be, a few months - later, a trickling rivulet. His gait averaged, over all conditions of road - and of gradient, about five miles an hour. He followed, on this occasion, - the principle of walking an hour, then resting fifteen minutes. And toward - midnight he set up his cot by the roadside, in the shelter of a tree by a - memorial arch, and gave himself two hours of sleep. - </p> - <p> - The little hill city of So T'ung was awake and astir, with gates open and - traffic already flowing forth. There were no signs of disorder. But Doane - noted that the anti-foreign mutterings and sneers along the roadside (to - which he had grown accustomed twenty years earlier) were louder and more - frequent than common. For himself he had not the slightest fear. His great - height, his enormous strength, his commanding eye, had always, except on - the one recent occasion of the riot at the T'ainan fair, been enough to - cow any native who was near enough to do him injury. And added to this - moral and physical strength he had lately felt a somewhat surprising - recklessness. He felt this now. He didn't care what happened, so long as - he might be busy in the thick of it. His personal safety took on - importance only when he kept Betty in mind. He must save himself to - provide for her. And, of course, in the absence of any other strong - personality, the mission workers needed him; they had no one else, just - now, on whom to lean. And then there were the hundreds of native - Christians; they needed him, for they would be slaughtered first... if it - should come to that. They would be loyal, and would die, at the last, for - their faith. - </p> - <p> - During the long hours of walking through the still mountain night, his - thoughts ranged far. He considered talking over his problems with M. - Pourmont. There should be work for a strong, well-trained man somewhere in - the railroad development that was going on all over the yellow kingdom. - Preferably in some other region, where he wouldn't be known. Starting - fresh, that was the thing! - </p> - <p> - Over and over the rather blank thought came around, that a man has no - right to bring into the world a child for whom he can not properly, fully, - care. And it came down to money, to some money; not as wealth, but as the - one usable medium of human exchange. A little of it, honestly earned, - meant that a man was productive, was paying his way. A saying of Emerson's - shot in among his racing thoughts—something about clergymen always - demanding a handicap. It was wrong, he felt. It was—he went as far - as this, toward dawn—parasitic. A man, to live soundly, healthily, - must shoulder his way among his fellows, prove himself squarely. - </p> - <p> - And he dwelt for hours at a time on the ethical basis of all this - missionary activity. It was what he came around to all night. There was an - assumption—it was, really, the assumption on which his present life - was based—that the so-called Christian civilization, Western Europe - and America—owed its superiority to what he thought of as the - Christian consciousness. That superiority was always implied. It was the - motive power back of this persistent proselytizing. But to-night, as - increasingly of late years, he found himself whittling away the - implications of a spiritual and even ethical quality in that superiority - of the White over the Yellow. More and more clearly it seemed to come down - to the physical. It was the amazing discoveries in what men call modern - science, and the wide application in industry of these discoveries, that - made much of the difference. Then there were the accidents of climate and - soil and of certain happy mixtures of blood through conquests... these - things made a people great or weak. And lesser accidents, such as a simple - alphabet, making it easy and cheap to print ideas; the Chinese alphabet - and the lack of easy transportation had held China back, he believed.... - Back of all these matters lay, of course, a more powerful determinant; the - genius that might be waxing or waning in a people. The genius of America - was waxing, clearly; and the genius of China had been waning for six - hundred years. But in her turn, China had waxed, as had Rome, and Greece, - and Egypt. None of these had known the Christian consciousness, yet each - had run her course. And Greece and Rome, without it, had risen high. Rome, - indeed, whatever the reason, had begun to wane from the very dawn of - Christianity; and had finally succumbed, not to that, but to barbarians - who had in them crude physical health and enterprise. - </p> - <p> - The more deeply he pondered, the more was he inclined to question the - importance of Christianity in the Western scheme. For Western - civilization, to his burning eyes, walking at night, alone, over the hills - of ancient Hansi, looked of a profoundly materialistic nature. You felt - that, out here, where oil and cigarettes and foreign-made opium and - merchandise of all sorts were pushing in, all the time, about and beyond - the missionaries. And with bayonets always bristling in the background. - The West hadn't the finely great gift of Greece or the splendid unity of - Rome. Its art was little more than a confusion of copies, a library of - historical essays. And art seemed, now, important. And as for religion... - Doane had moments of real bitterness, that night, about religion. And he - thought around and around a circle. The one strongest, best organized - church of the West—the one that made itself felt most effectively in - China—seemed to him not only opposed to the scientific enterprise - that was, if anything, peculiarly the genius of the West, but insistent on - superstitions (for so they looked, out here) beside which the quiet - rationalism of the Confucian drift seemed very reality. And the period of - the greatest power and glory of that church had been, to all European - civilization, the Dark Ages. The Reformation and the modern free political - spirit appeared to be cognates, yet the evangelical churches fought - science, in their turn, from their firm base of divine revelation. It was - difficult, to-night, to see the miracles and mysteries of Christianity as - other than legendary superstitions handed down by primitive, credulous - peoples. It was difficult to see them as greatly different from the - incantations of the Boxers or of these newer Lookers. - </p> - <p> - And then, of all those great peoples that had waxed and waned, China alone - remained.... There was a thought! She might wax again. For there she was, - as always. Without the Christian consciousness, the Chinese, of all the - great peoples, alone had endured. - </p> - <p> - A fact slightly puzzling to Doane was that he thought all this under a - driving nervous pressure. Now and then his mind rushed him, got a little - out of control. And at these times he walked too fast. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he mission station - was situated in the northern suburbs of So T'ung-fu, outside the wall. - Duane went directly there. - </p> - <p> - The mission compound lay a smoking ruin. Not a building of the five or six - that had stood in the walled acre, was now more than a heap of bricks, - with a Ft of wall or a chimney standing. The compound wall had been - battered down at a number of points, apparently with a heavy timber that - now lay outside one of the breaches. There was no sign of life. - </p> - <p> - He walked in among the ruins. They were still too hot for close - examination. But he found the body of a white man lying in an open space, - clad in flannel shirt and riding breeches, with knee-high laced boots of - the sort commonly worn by engineers. The face was unrecognizable. The top - of the head, too, had been beaten in. But on the back of the head grew' - curly yellow' hair. From the figure evidently a young man; one of - Pourmont's adventurous crew; probably one of the Australians or New - Zealanders. A revolver lay near the outstretched hand. Doane picked it up - and examined it. Every chamber was empty. And here and there along the - path were empty cartridges; as if he had retreated stubbornly, loading and - firing as he could. Not far off lay an empty cartridge box. That would be - where he had filled for the last time. He must have sent some of the - bullets home; but the attackers had removed their dead. Yes, closer - scrutiny discovered a number of blood-soaked areas along the path. - </p> - <p> - A young Chinese joined him, announcing himself as a helper at the station. - Jen Ling Pu had sent him out over the rear wall, he said, with the - telegram to Mr. Doa ne. - </p> - <p> - Together they carried the body of the white man to a clear space near the - wall and buried him in a shallow grave. Duane repeated the burial service - in brief form. - </p> - <p> - The boy, whose name was Wen, explained that on his return from the - telegraph station he had found it impossible to get into the compound, as - it was then surrounded, and accordingly hid in the neighborhood. By that - time, he said, Jen, with the three or four helpers and servants who had - not perished in the other buildings, one or two native Bible-women, a few - children of native Christians and the white man were all in the main - house, and were firing through the windows. They had all undoubtedly been - burned to death, as only the white man had come out. He himself could not - get close enough to see much of what happened, though he slipped in among - the curious crowd outside and picked up what information he could. The - attacking parlies were by no means of one mind or of settled purpose. The - Lookers among them were for a quick and complete massacre, as were the - young rowdies who had joined in the attack for the fun of it. But there - were more moderate councils. And so many were injured or killed by the - accurate marksmanship of the young foreign devil, that for a time they all - seemed to lose heart. The Lookers were subjected to ridicule by the crowd - because by their incantations they were supposed to render themselves - invisible to foreign eyes, and it was difficult to explain the high - percentage of casualties among them on the grounds of accidental contact - with flying bullets. Finally a ruse was decided on. The white man was to - come out for a parley. A student, recently attached to the yamen of the - local magistrate as an interpreter volunteered—in good faith, Wen - believed—to act in that capacity on this occasion. - </p> - <p> - The meeting took place by one of the breaches in the wall. The engineer - demanded that the three principal leaders of the Lookers Le surrendered to - him on the spot, and held until the arrival of troops from T'ainan. While - they were pretending to listen, a party crept around behind the wall. He - heard them, stepped back in time to avoid being clubbed to death, in a - moment shot two of them dead, and shot also the captain of the Lookers, - who had been conducting the parley. Then, evidently, he had backed tow ard - the main house and had nearly reached it when his cartridges gave out. - </p> - <p> - Doane was busy, what with the improvised burial and with noting down Wen's - narrative, until nearly noon. By this time he was very sleepy. There was - nothing more he could do. The ruins of the main house would not be cool - before morning. Nor would the soldiers arrive. He decided to call at once - on the magistrate and arrange for a guard to be left in charge of the - compound; then to set up his cot in a cell in one of the local - caravansaries. He had brought a little food, and the magistrate would give - him what else he needed. The innkeeper would brew him tea.... Before two - o'clock he was asleep. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p> - He was awakened by a persistent light tapping at the door. Lying there in - the dusky room, fully clad, gazing out under heavy lids at the dingy wall - with its dingier banners hung about lettered with the Chinese characters - for happiness and prosperity, and at the tattered gray paper squares - through which came soft evening sounds of mules and asses munching their - fodder at the long open manger, of children talking, of a carter singing - to himself in quavering falsetto, it seemed to him that the knocking had - been going on for a very long time. His thoughts, slowly coming awake, - were of tragic stuff. Death stalked again the hills of Hansi. Friends had - been butchered. The blood of his race had been spilled again. Life was a - grim thing.... - </p> - <p> - A voice called, in pidgin-English. - </p> - <p> - He replied gruffly; sat up; struck a match and lighted the rush-light on - the table. It was just after eight. - </p> - <p> - He went to the door; opened it. A small, soft, yellow Chinaman stood - there. - </p> - <p> - “What do you want?” Doane asked in Chinese. - </p> - <p> - The yellow man looked blank. - </p> - <p> - “My no savvy,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “What side you belong?” The familiar pidgin-English phrases sounded - grotesquely in Doane's ears, even as they fell from his own lips. - </p> - <p> - “My belong Shanghai side,” explained the man. He was apparently a servant. - Some one would have brought him out here. Though to what end it would be - hard to guess, for a servant who can not make himself understood has small - value. And no Shanghai man can do that in Hansi. - </p> - <p> - “What pidgin belong you this side?” - </p> - <p> - “My missy wanchee chin-chin.” - </p> - <p> - Thus the man. His mistress wished a word. It was odd. Who, what, would his - mistress be! - </p> - <p> - Doane always made it a rule, in these caravansaries, to engage the “number - one” room if it was to be had. A countryside inn, in China, is usually a - walled rectangle of something less or more than a halfacre in extent. - Across the front stands the innkeeper's house, and the immense, roofed, - swinging gates, built of strong timbers and planks. Along one side wall - extend the stables, where the animals stand a row, looking over the manger - into the courtyard. Along the other side are cell-like rooms, usually on - the same level as the ground, with floors of dirt or worn old tile, with a - table, a narrow chair or two of bent wood, and the inevitable brick <i>kang</i>, - or platform bed with a tiny charcoal stove built into it and a thickness - or two of matting thrown over the dirt and insect life of the crumbling - surface. At the end of the court opposite' the gate stands, nearly always, - a small separate building, the floor raised two or three steps from the - ground. This is, in the pidgin vernacular, the “number one” room. Usually, - however, it is large enough for division into two or three rooms. In the - present instance there were two rather large rooms on either side of an - entrance hall. Doane had been ushered into one of these rooms with no - thought for the possible occupant of the other, beyond sleepily noting - that the door was closed. - </p> - <p> - Hastily brushing his hair and smoothing the wrinkles out of his coat he - stepped across the hall. That other door was ajar now. He tapped; and a - woman's voice, a voice not unpleasing in quality, cried, in English, “Come - in!” - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>he rose, as he - pushed open the door, from the chair. She was young—certainly in the - twenties—and unexpectedly, curiously beautiful. Her voice was - Western American. Her abundant hair wras a vivid yellow. She was clad in a - rather elaborate negligee robe that looked odd in the dingy room. Her cot - stood by the paper windows, on a square of new white matting. Two - suit-cases stood on bricks nearer the <i>kang.</i> And a garment was - tacked up across the broken paper squares. - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry to trouble you,” she said breathlessly. “But it's getting - unbearable. I've waited here ever since yesterday for some word. I know - there was trouble. I heard so much shooting. And they made such a racket - yelling. They got into the compound here. I had to cover my windows, you - see. It was awful. All night I thought they'd murder me. And this morning - I slept a little in the chair. And then you came in... I saw you... and I - was wild to ask you the news. I thought perhaps you'd help me. I've sat - here for hours, trying to keep from disturbing you. I knew you were - sleeping.” - </p> - <p> - She ran on in an ungoverned, oddly intimate way. - </p> - <p> - “I'm glad to be of what service I—” He found himself saying - something or other; wondering with a strangely cold mind what he could - possibly do and why on earth she was here. His own long pent-up emotional - nature was answering hers with profoundly disturbing force. - </p> - <p> - “I ought to ask you to sit down,” she was saying. She caught his arm and - almost forced him into the chair. She even stroked his shoulder, nervously - yet casually. He coldly told himself that he must keep steady, impersonal; - it was the unexpectedness of this queer situation, the shock of it... - </p> - <p> - “It's all right,” said she. “I'll sit on the cot. It's a pig-sty here. But - sometimes you can't help these things.... please tell me what dreadful - thing has happened!” - </p> - <p> - She had large brown eyes... odd, with that hair!... and they met his, hung - on them. - </p> - <p> - In a low measured voice he explained: - </p> - <p> - “The natives attacked a mission station here—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, just a mission!” - </p> - <p> - “They burned it down, and killed all but one of the workers there.” - </p> - <p> - “Were they white?” - </p> - <p> - “The workers were Chinese, Christian Chinese. But—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I see! I couldn't imagine what it was all about. It's been frightful. - Sitting here, without a word. But if it was just among the Chinese, then - where's—I've got to tell you part of it—where's Harley - Beggins? He brought me out here. He isn't the kind that skips out without - a word. I've known him two years. He's a good fellow. You see, this thing—whatever - it is—leaves me in a hole. I can't just sit here.” - </p> - <p> - “I am trying to tell you. Please listen as calmly as you can. First tell - me something about this Harley Beggins.” - </p> - <p> - “He's with the Ho Shan Company. An engineer. But say—you don't mean—you're - not going to—” - </p> - <p> - “He was a young man?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. Tall. Curly hair. A fine-looking young man. And very refined. His - family... but, my God, you—” - </p> - <p> - “You must keep quiet!” - </p> - <p> - “Keep quiet! I'd like to know how, when you keep me in suspense like - this!” She was on her feet now. - </p> - <p> - “I am going to tell you. But you must control yourself. Mr. Beggins must - be the young engineer who tried to help the people in the compound.” - </p> - <p> - “He was killed?” - </p> - <p> - “Quiet! Yes, he was killed. I buried him this morning.” - </p> - <p> - Then the young woman's nerves gave way utterly, Doane found his mind - divided between the cold thought of leaving her, perhaps asking the - magistrate to give her an escort down to Ting Yang or up through the wall - to Peking, and the other terribly strong impulse to stay. It was clear - that she was not—well, a good woman; excitingly clear. She said odd - things. “Well, see where this mess leaves <i>me!</i>” for one. And, - “What's to become of me? Do I just stay out here? Die here? Is this - all?”... When, daring a lull in the scene she was making he undertook to - go, she clung to him and sobbed on his shoulder. The young engineer had - meant little in her life. Her present emotion was almost wholly fright. - </p> - <p> - He knew, then, that he couldn't go. He was being swept toward destruction. - It seemed like that. He could think coolly about it during the swift - moments. He could watch his own case. One by one, in quick-flashing - thoughts, he brought up all the arguments for morality, for duty, for - common decency, and one by one they failed him. Something in life was too - strong for him. Something in his nature.... This, then was the natural end - of all his brooding, speculating, struggling with the demon of - unbelief.... And even then he felt the hideously tragic quality of this - hour. - </p> - <h3> - 5 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>he was, it came - out, a notorious woman of Soo-chow Road, Shanghai; one of the so-called - “American girls” that have brought a good name to local disgrace. The new - American judge, at that time engaged in driving out the disreputable women - and the gamblers from the quasi protection of the consular courts, had - issued a warrant for her arrest, whereupon young Beggins, who had been - numbered among her “friends,” had undertaken to protect her, out here in - the interior, until the little wave of reform should have passed. - </p> - <p> - Despite her vulgarity, and despite the chill of spiritual death in his - heart, he wished to be kind to her. Something of the long-frustrated - emotional quality of the man overflowed toward her. He did what he could; - laid her case before the magistrate, and left enough money to buy her a - ticket to Peking from the northern railroad near Kalgan. This in the - morning. - </p> - <p> - One other thing he did in the morning was to write to Hidderleigh, at - Shanghai, telling enough of the truth about his fall, and asking that his - successor be sent out at the earliest moment possible. And he sent off the - letter, early, at the Chinese post-office. At least he needn't play the - hypocrite. The worst imaginable disaster had come upon him. His real life, - it seemed, was over As for telling the truth at the mission, his mind - would shape a course. The easiest thing would be to tell Boatwright, - straight. Though in any case it would come around to them from Shanghai. - He had sealed his fate when he posted the letter. They would surely know, - all of them. Henry Withery would know. It would reach the congregations - back there in the States. At the consulates and up and down the coast—where - men drank and gambled and carved fortunes out of great inert China and - loved as they liked—they would be laughing at him within a - fortnight. - </p> - <p> - And then he thought of Betty. - </p> - <p> - That night, on the march back to T'ainan, he stood, a solitary figure on - the Pass of the Flighting Geese, looking up, arms outstretched, toward the - mountain that for thousands of years has been to the sons of Han a sacred - eminence; and the old prayer, handed down from another Oriental race as - uttered by a greater sinner than he, burst from his lips: - </p> - <p> - “I will lift mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help!” - </p> - <p> - But no help came to Griggsby Duane that night. With tears lying warm on - his cheeks he strode down the long slope toward Tainan. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII—LOVE IS A TROUBLE - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T WAS early - morning—the first day of April—when the Pacific liner that - carried Betty Doane and Jonathan Brachey out of Yokohama dropped anchor in - the river below Shanghai and there discharged passengers and freight for - all central and northern China. - </p> - <p> - Brachey, on that occasion, watched from his cabin porthole while Betty and - the Hasmers descended the accommodation ladder and boarded the company's - launch. Then, not before, he drank coffee and nibbled a roll. His long - face was gray and deeply lined. He had not slept. - </p> - <p> - He went up to Shanghai on the next launch, walked directly across the Bund - to the row of steamship offices, and engaged passage on a north-bound - coasting steamer. That evening he dined alone, out on the Yellow Sea, - steaming toward Tsingtau, Chefu and (within the five days) Tientsin. He - hadn't meant to take in the northern ports at this time; his planned - itinerary covered the Yangtse Valley, where the disorderly young shoots of - revolution were ripening slowly into red flower. But he was a shaken man. - As he saw the problem of his romance, there were two persons to be saved, - Betty and himself. He had behaved, on the one occasion, outrageously. He - could see his action now as nothing other than weakness, curiously - despicable, in the light of the pitiless facts. Reason had left him. Gusts - of emotion lashed him. He now regarded the experience as a storm that must - be somehow weathered. He couldn't weather it in Shanghai. Not with Betty - there. He would surely seek her; find her. With his disordered soul he - would cry out to her. In this alarming mood no subterfuge would appear too - mean—sending clandestine notes by yellow hands, arranging furtive - meetings. - </p> - <p> - He was, of course, running away from her, from his task, from himself. It - was expensive business. But he had meant to work up as far as Tientsin and - Peking before the year ran out. He was, after all, but taking that part of - it first. To this bit of justification he clung. He passed but one night - at Tientsin, in the curiously British hotel, on an out-and-out British - street, where one saw little more to suggest the East than the Chinese - policeman at the corner, an occasional passing amah or mafoo, and the - blue-robed, soft-footed hotel servants; then on to Peking by train, an - easy four-hour run, lounging in a European dining-car where the allied - troops had fought their way foot by foot only seven years earlier. - </p> - <p> - Brachey, though regarded by critical reviewers as a rising authority on - the Far East, had never seen Peking. India he knew; the Straits - Settlements—at Singapore and Penang he was a person of modest but - real standing; Borneo, Java, Celebes and the rest of the vast archipelago, - where flying fish skim a burnished sea and green islands float above a - shimmering horizon against white clouds; the Philippines, Siam, Cochin - China and Hongkong; but the swarming Middle Kingdom and its Tartar capital - were fresh fuel to his coldly eager mind. He stopped, of course, at the - almost Parisian hotel of the International Sleeping Car Company, just off - Legation Street. - </p> - <p> - Peking, in the spring of 1907, presented a far from unpleasant aspect to - the eye of the traveler. The siege of the legations was already history - and half-forgotten; the quarter itself had been wholly rebuilt. The - clearing away of the crowded Chinese houses about the legations left <i>à - glacis</i> of level ground that gave dignity to the walled enclosure. - Legation Street, paved, bordered by stone walks and gray compound-walls, - dotted with lounging figures of Chinese gatekeepers and alert sentries of - this or that or another nation—British, American, Italian, Austrian, - Japanese, French, Belgian, Dutch, German—offered a pleasant stroll - of a late afternoon when the sun was low. Through gateways there were - glimpses to be caught of open-air tea parties, of soldiers drilling, or - even of children playing. Tourists wandered afoot or rolled by in - rickshaws drawn by tattered blue and brown coolies. - </p> - <p> - From the western end of the street beyond the American <i>glacis</i>, one - might see the traffic through the Chien Gate, with now and then a nose-led - train of camels humped above the throng; and beyond, the vast brick walls - and the shining yellow palace roofs of the Imperial City. Around to the - north, across the Japanese <i>glacis</i>, one could stroll, in the early - evening, to the motion-picture show, where one-reel films from Paris were - run off before an audience of many colors and more nations and costumes, - while a placid Chinaman manipulated a mechanical piano. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>rachey had letters - to various persons of importance along the street. With the etiquette of - remote colonial capitals, he had long since trained himself to a - mechanical conformity. Accordingly he devoted his first afternoon to a - round of calls, by rickshaw; leaving cards in the box provided for the - purpose at the gate house of each compound. Before another day had gone he - found return cards in his box at the hotel; and thus was he established as - <i>persona grata</i> on Legation Street. Invitations followed. The - American minister had him for tiffin. There were pleasant meals at the - legation barracks. Tourist groups at the hotel made the inevitable - advances, which he met with austere dignity. Meantime he busied himself - discussing with experts the vast problems confronting the Chinese in - adjusting their racial life to the modern world, and within a few days was - jotting down notes and preparing tentative outlines for his book. - </p> - <p> - This activity brought him, at first, some relief from the emotional storm - through which he had been passing. Work, he told himself, was the thing; - work, and a deliberate avoidance of further entanglements. - </p> - <p> - If, in taking this course, he was dealing severely with the girl whose - brightly pretty face and gently charming ways had for a time disarmed him, - he was dealing quite as severely with himself; for beneath his crust of - self-sufficiency existed shy but turbulent springs of feeling. That was - the trouble; that had always been the trouble; he dared not let himself - feel, lie had let go once before, just once, only to skim the very border - of tragedy. The color of that one bitter experience of his earlier manhood - ran through every subsequent act of his life. Month by month, through the - years, he had winced as he drew a check to the hard, handsome, strange - woman who had been, it appeared, his wife; who was, incredibly, his wife - yet. With a set face he had read and courteously answered letters from - this stranger. A woman of worldly wants, all of which came, in the end, to - money. The business of his life had settled down to a systematic meeting - of those wants. That, and industriously employing his talent for travel - and solitude. - </p> - <p> - No, the thing was to think, not feel. To logic and will he pinned his - faith. Impulses rose every day, here in Peking, to write Betty. It - wouldn't be hard to trace her father's address. For that matter he knew - the city. He found it impossible to forget a word of hers. Vivid memories - of her round pretty face, of the quick humorous expression about her brown - eyes, the movements of her trim little head and slim body, recurred with, - if anything, a growing vigor They would leap into his mind at unexpected, - awkward moments, cutting the thread of sober conversations. At such - moments he felt strongly that impulse to explain himself further. But his - clear mind told him that there would be no good in it. None. She might - respond; that would involve them the more deeply. He had gone too far. He - had (this in the bitter hours) transgressed. The thing was to let her - forget; it would, he sincerely tried to hope, be easier for her to forget - than for himself He had to try to hope that. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ut on an evening - the American military attaché dined with him. They sat comfortably over - the coffee and cigars at one side of the large hotel dining-room. Brachey - liked the attaché. His military training, his strong practical instinct - for fact, his absorption in his work, made him the sort with whom Brachey, - who had no small talk, really no social grace, could let himself go. And - the attaché knew China. He had traversed the interior from Manchuria and - Mongolia to the borders of Thibet and the Loto country of Yunnan, and - could talk, to sober ears, interestingly. On this occasion, after dwelling - long on the activity of secret revolutionary societies in the southern - provinces and in the Yangtse Valley, he suddenly threw out the following - remark: - </p> - <p> - “But of course, Brachey, there's an excellent chance, right now, to study - a revolution in the making out here in Hansi. You can get into the heart - of it in less than a week's travel. And if you don't mind a certain - element of danger...” - </p> - <p> - The very name of the province thrilled Brachey. He sat, fingering his - cigar, his face a mask of casual attention, fighting to control the uprush - of feeling. The attache was talking on. Brachey caught bits here and - there; “You've seen this crowd of banker persons from Europe around the - hotel? Came out over the Trans Siberian with their families. A committee - representing the Directorate of the Ho Shan Company. The story is that - they've been asked to keep out of Hansi for the present for fear of - violence.... You'd get the whole thing, out there—officials with a - stake 'n the local mines shrewdly stirring up trouble while pretending to - put it down; rich young students agitating, the Chinese equivalent of our - soap-box Socialists; and queer Oriental motives and twists that you and I - can't expect to understand.... The significant thing though, the big fact - for you, I should say—is that if the Hansi agitators succeed in - turning this little rumpus over the mining company into something of a - revolution against the Imperial Government, it'll bring them into an - understanding with the southern provinces. It may yet prove the deciding - factor in the big row. Something as if Ohio should go democratic this - year, back home. You see?... There are queer complications. Our Chinese - secretary says that a personal quarrel between two mandarins is a - prominent item in the mix-up.... That's the place for you, all right—Hansi! - They've got the narrow-gauge railway nearly through to T'ainan-fu, I - believe. You can pick up a guide here at the hotel. He'll engage a cook. - You won't drink the water, of course; better carry a few cases of Tan San. - And don't eat the green vegetables. Take some beef and mutton and potatoes - and rice. You can buy chickens and eggs. Get a money belt and carry all - the Mexican dollars you can stagger under. Provincial money's no good a - hundred miles away. Take some English gold for a reserve. That's good - everywhere. And you'll want your overcoat.” - </p> - <p> - Five minutes later Brachey heard this: - </p> - <p> - “A. P. Browning, the Agent General of the Ho Shan Company, is stopping - here now, along with the committee. Talk with him, first. Get the - company's view of it. He'll talk freely. Then go out there and have a look—see - for yourself. Say the word, and I'll give you a card to Browning.” - </p> - <p> - Now Brachey looked up. It seemed to him, so momentous was the hour, that - his pulse had stopped. He sat very still, looking at his guest, obviously - about to speak. - </p> - <p> - The attaché, to whom this man's deliberate cold manner was becoming a - friendly enough matter of course, waited. - </p> - <p> - “Thanks,” Brachey finally said. “Be glad to have it.” - </p> - <p> - But the particular card, scribbled by the attaché, there across the table, - was never presented. For late that night, in a bitter revulsion of - feeling, Brachey tore it up. - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n the morning, - however, when he stopped at the desk, the Belgian clerk handed him a thick - letter from his attorney in New York, forwarded from his bank in Shanghai. - He read and reread it, while his breakfast turned cold; studied it with an - unresponsive brain. - </p> - <p> - It seemed that his wife's attorney had approached his with a fresh - proposal. Her plan had been to divorce him on grounds of desertion and - non-support; this after his refusal to supply what is euphemistically - termed “statutory evidence.” But the fact that she had from month to month - through the years accepted money from him, and not infrequently had - demanded extra sums by letter and telegram, made it necessary that he - enter into collusion with her to the extent of keeping silent and - permitting her suit to go through unopposed. His own instructions to his - lawyer stood flatly to the contrary. - </p> - <p> - But a new element had entered the situation. She wished to marry again. - The man of her new choice had means enough to care for her comfortably. - And in her eagerness to be free she proposed to release him from payment - of alimony beyond an adjustment to cover the bare cost of her suit, on - condition that he withdraw his opposition. - </p> - <p> - It was the old maneuvering and bargaining. At first thought it disgusted - and hurt him. The woman's life had never come into contact with his, since - the first few days of their married life, without hurting him. He had been - harsh, bitter, unforgiving. He had believed himself throughout in the - right. She had shown (in his view) no willingness to take marriage - seriously, give him and herself a fair trial, make a job of it. She had - exhibited no trait that he could accept as character. It had seemed to him - just that she should suffer as well as he. - </p> - <p> - But now, as the meaning of the letter penetrated his mind, his spirits - began to rise. It was a tendency he resisted; but he was helpless. From - moment to moment his heart, swelled. Not once before in four years had the - thought of freedom occurred to him as a desirable possibility. But now he - knew that he would accept it, even at the cost of collusion and - subterfuge. He saw nothing of the humor in the situation; that he, who had - judged the woman so harshly, should find his code of ethics, his very - philosophy, dashed to the ground by a look from a pair of brown eyes, - meant little. It was simply that up to the present time an ethical - attitude had been the important thing, whereas now the important thing was - Betty. That was all there seemed to be to it. But then there had been - almost as little of humor as of love in the queerly solitary life of - Jonathan Brachey. - </p> - <p> - He cabled his attorney, directly after breakfast, to agree to the divorce. - Before noon he had engaged a guide and arranged with him to take the - morning train southward to the junction whence that narrow-gauge Hansi - Line was pushing westward toward the ancient provincial capital. - </p> - <p> - In all this there was no plan. Brachey, confused, aware that the - instinctive pressures of life were too much for him, that he was beaten, - was soberly, breathlessly, driving toward the girl who had touched and - tortured his encrusted heart. He was not even honest with himself; he - couldn't be. He dwelt on the importance of studying the Hansi problem at - close range He decided, among other things, that he wouldn't permit - himself to see Betty, that he would merely stay secretly near her, - certainly until a cablegram from New York should announce his positive - freedom. In accordance with this decision he tore up his letters to her as - fast as they were written. If the fact that he was now writing such - letters indicated an alarming condition in his emotional nature, at least - his will was still intact. He proved that by tearing them up. He even - found this thought encouraging. - </p> - <p> - But, of course, he had taken his real beating when he gave up his plans - and caught the coasting steamer at Shanghai. He was to learn now that - rushing away from Betty and rushing toward her were irradiations of the - same emotion. - </p> - <p> - He left Peking on that early morning way-train of passenger and freight - cars, without calling again at the legation; merely sent a chit to the - Commandant of Marines to say that he was off. He had not heard of the - requirement that a white traveler into the interior carry a consular - passport countersigned by Chinese authorities, and also, for purposes of - identification, a supply of cards with the Chinese equivalent of his name; - so he set forth without either, and (as a matter of fixed principle) - without firearms. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII—THE WAYFARER - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>ASSENGER traffic - on the Hansi Line ended at this time at a village called Shau T'ing, in - the heart of the red mountains. Brachey spent the night in a native - caravansary, his folding cot set up on the earthen floor. The room was - dirty, dilapidated, alive with insects and thick with ancient odors. A - charcoal fire in the crumbling brick <i>kang</i> gave forth fumes of gas - that suggested the possibility of asphyxiation before morning. Brachey - sent his guide, a fifty-year-old Tientsin Chinese of corpulent figure, - known, for convenience, as “John,” for water and extinguished the fire. - The upper half of the inner wall was a wooden lattice covered with paper; - and by breaking all the paper squares within his reach, Brachey contrived - to secure a circulation of air. Next he sent John for a piece of new - yellow matting, and by spreading this under the cot created a mild - sensation of cleanliness, which, though it belied the facts, made the - situation a thought more bearable. For Brachey, though a veteran traveler, - was an extremely fastidious man. He bore dirt and squalor, had borne them - at intervals for years, without ever losing his squeamish discomfort at - the mere thought of them. But the stern will that was during these, years - the man's outstanding trait, and his intense absorption in his work, had - kept him driving ahead through all petty difficulties. The only outward - sign of the strain it put him to was an increased irritability. - </p> - <p> - He traveled from Shau T'ing to Ping Yang, the next day in an unroofed - freight ear without a seat, crowded in with thirty-odd Chinese and their - luggage. During the entire day he spoke hardly a word. His two servants - guarded him from contact with the other natives; but he ignored even his - own men. At a way station, where the engine waited half an hour for water - and coal, a lonely division engineer from Lombardy called out a greeting - in bad French. Brachey coldly snubbed the man. - </p> - <p> - He planned to pick up either a riding animal or a mule litter at Ping - Yang. As it turned out, the best John could secure was a freight cart; - springless, of course. T'ainan was less than a hundred miles away, yet he - was doomed to three days of travel in a creaking, hard-riding cart through - the sunken roads, where dust as fine as flour sifts through the clothing - and rubs into the pores of the skin, and to two more nights at native inns—with - little hope of better accommodation at T'ainan. - </p> - <p> - By this time Brachey was in a state of nerves that alarmed even himself. - Neither will nor imagination was proving equal to this new sort of strain. - The confusion of motives that had driven him out here provided no sound - justification for the journey. When he tried to think work now, he found - himself thinking Betty. And misgivings were creeping into his mind. It - amounted to demoralization. - </p> - <p> - He walked out after the solitary dinner of soup and curried chicken and - English strawberry jam. The little village was settling into evening calm. - Men and boys, old women and very little girls, sat in the shop fronts—here - merely rickety porticoes with open doorways giving on dingy courtyards—or - played about the street. Carpenters were still working on the roof of the - new railway station. Three young men, in an open field, were playing - decorously with a shuttlecock of snake's skin and duck feathers, deftly - kicking it from player to player. Farther along the street a middle-aged - man of great dignity, clad in a silken robe and black skull-cap with the - inevitable red knot, was flying a colored kite ... through all this, - Jonathan Brachey, the expert observer, wandered about unseeing. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>arther up the - hill, however, rounding a turn in the road, he stopped short, suddenly - alive to the vivid outer world. A newly built wall of brick stood before - him, enclosing an area of two acres or more, within which appeared the - upper stories of European houses, as well as the familiar curving roofs of - Chinese tile. And just outside the walls two young men and two young - women, in outing clothes, white folk all, were playing tennis. To their - courteous greeting he responded frigidly. - </p> - <p> - Later a somewhat baffled young Australian led him to the office of M. - Pourmont and presented him. - </p> - <p> - The distinguished French engineer, looking up from his desk, beheld a tall - man in homespun knickerbockers, a man with a strong if slightly forbidding - face. He fingered the card. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Monsieur Brashayee! Indeed, yes! It is ze <i>grand plaisir!</i> But - it mus' not be true zat you go on all ze vay to T'ainan-fu.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Brachey replied with icy courtesy, “I am going to T'ainan.” - </p> - <p> - “But ze time, he is not vat you call—-ripe. One makes ze trouble. It - is only a month zat zay t'row ze <i>pierre</i> at me, zay tear ze cart of - me, zay destroy ze ear of me! <i>Choses affreuses!</i> I mus'not let you - go!'' - </p> - <p> - Brachey heard this without taking it in any degree to himself. He was - looking at the left ear of this stout, bearded Parisian, from which, he - observed, the lobe was gone.... Then, with a quickening pulse, he thought - of Betty out there in T'ainan, in real danger. - </p> - <p> - “Come wiz me!” cried M. Pourmont. “I vill show you vat ve do—<i>nous - ici</i>.” And snatching up a bunch of keys he led Brachey out about the - compound. He opened one door upon what appeared to be a heap of old - clothes. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Des sac â terres</i>,” he explained. - </p> - <p> - Brachey picked one up. “Ah,” he remarked, coldly interested—“sand-bags!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it is zat. Sand-bag for ze vail. Ve have ze <i>femme Chinoise</i>—ze - Chinese vimmen—sew zem all every day. And you vill look...” He led - the way with this to a corner of the grounds where the firm loess had been - turned up with a pick. “It is so, Monsieur Brashayee, <i>partout</i>. All - is ready. In von night ve fill ze bag, ve are a fort, ve are ready.... - See! An' see!” - </p> - <p> - He pointed out a low scaffolding built here and there along the compound - wall for possible use as a firing step. Just outside the wall crowding - native houses were being torn down. “I buy zem,” explained M. Pourmont - with a chuckle, “an' I clear avay. I make a <i>glacis, nest ce pas?</i>” - On several of the flat roofs of supply sheds along the wall were heaps of - the bags, ready filled, covered from outside eyes with old boards. In one - building, under lock and key, were two machine guns and box on box of - ammunition. Back in M. Pourmont's private study was a stand of modern - rifles. - </p> - <p> - “You vill see by all zis vat is ze t'ought of myself,” concluded the - genial Frenchman. “Ze trouble he is real. It is not safe to-day in Hansi. - Ze Société of ze Great Eye—ze Lookair—he grow, he <i>fait - l'exercice</i>, he make ze t'reat. You vill not go to T'ainan, alone. It - is not right!” - </p> - <p> - Brachey was growing impatient now. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes,” he said, more shortly than he knew. “I will go on.” - </p> - <p> - “You have ze arm—ze revolvair?” - </p> - <p> - Brachey shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “You vill, zen, allow me to give you zis.” - </p> - <p> - But Brachey declined the weapon stiffly, said good night, and returned to - the inn below. - </p> - <p> - The next morning a Chinese servant brought a note from M Pourmont. If he - would go—thus that gentleman—and if he would not so much as - carry arms for protection, at least he must be sure to get into touch with - M. Griggsby Duane at once on arriving at T'ianan. M. Doane was a man of - strength and address. He would be the only support that M. Brachey could - look for in that turbulent corner of the world. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he lamp threw a - flickering unearthly light, faintly yellow, on the tattered wall-hangings - that bore the Chinese characters signifying happiness and hospitality and - other genial virtues. The lamp was of early Biblical pattern, nor unlike a - gravy boat of iron, full of oil or grease, in which the wick floated. It - stood on the roughly-made table. - </p> - <p> - The inn compound was still, save for the stirring and the steady crunching - of the horses and mules at their long manger across the courtyard. - </p> - <p> - Brachey, half undressed, sat on his cot, staring at the shadowy brick - wall. His face was haggard. There were hollows under the eyes. His hands - lay, listless, on his knees. The fire that had been for a fortnight - consuming him was now, for the moment, burnt out. - </p> - <p> - But at least, he now felt, the particular storm was over. That there might - be recurrences, he recognized. That girl had found her way, through all - the crust, to his heart. The result had been nearly unbearable while it - lasted. It had upset his reason; made a fool of him. Here he was—now—less - than a day's journey from her. He couldn't go back; the thought stirred - savagely what he thought of as the shreds of his self-respect. And yet to - go on was, or seemed, unthinkable. The best solution seemed to be merely - to make use of T'ainan as a stopping place for the night and pass on to - some other inland city. But this thought carried with it the unnerving - fear that he would fail to pass on, that he might even communicate with - her. - </p> - <p> - His life, apparently, was a lie. He had believed since his boyhood that - human companionship lay apart from the line of his development. Even his - one or two boy friends he had driven off. The fact embittered his earlier - life; but it was so. In each instance he had said harsh things that the - other could not or would not overlook. His marriage had contributed - further proof. Along with his pitilessly detached judgment of the woman - went the sharp consciousness that he, too, had failed at it. He couldn't - adapt his life to the lives of others. Since that experience—these - four years—by living alone, keeping away, keeping clear out of his - own land, even out of touch with the white race, and making something of a - success of it, he had not only proved himself finally, he had even, in a - measure, justified himself. Yet now, a chance meeting with a - nineteen-year-old girl had, at a breath, destroyed the laborious structure - of his life. It all came down to the fact that emotion had at last caught - him as surely as it had caught the millions of other men—men he had - despised. He couldn't live now without feeling again that magic touch of - warmth in his breast. He couldn't go on alone. - </p> - <p> - He bowed his head over it. Round and round went his thoughts, cutting - deeper and deeper into the tempered metal of his mind. - </p> - <p> - He said to her: “I am selfish.” - </p> - <p> - He had supposed he was telling the simple truth. But clearly he wasn't. At - this moment, as at every moment since that last night on the boat deck, he - was as dependent on her as a helpless child. And now he wasn't even - selfish. These two days since the little talk with M. Pourmont he had been - stirred deeply by the thought that she was in danger. - </p> - <p> - Over and over, with his almost repelling detachment of mind, he reviewed - the situation. She might not share his present emotion. Perhaps she had - recovered quickly from the romantic drift that had caught them on the - ship. She was a sensitive, expressive little thing; quite possibly the new - environment had caught her up and changed her, filled her life with fresh - interest or turned it in a new direction. With this thought was interwoven - the old bitter belief that no woman could love him. It must have been that - she was stirred merely by that romantic drift and had endowed him, the - available man, with the charms that dwelt only in her own fancy. Young - girls were impressionable; they did that. - </p> - <p> - But suppose—it was excitingly implausible—she hadn't swung - away from him. What would her missionary folk say to him and his - predicament? Sooner or later he would be free; but would that clear him - with these dogmatic persons, with her father? Probably not. And if not, - wouldn't the fact thrust unhappiness upon her? You could trust these - professionally religious people, he believed, to make her as unhappy as - they could—nag at her. - </p> - <p> - Suppose, finally, the unthinkable thing, that she—he could hardly - formulate even the thought; he couldn't have uttered it—loved him. - What did he know of her? Who was she? What did she know of adult life? - What were her little day-by-day tastes and impulses, such as make or break - any human companionship...? And who was he? What right had he to take on - his shoulders the responsibility for a human life... a delicately joyous - little life? For that was what it came down to. It came to him, now, like - a ray of blipdirig light, that he who quickens the soul of a girl must - carry the burden of that soul to his grave. At times during the night he - thought wistfully of his freedom, of his pleasant, selfish solitude and - the inexigent companionship of his work. - </p> - <p> - His suit-case lay on the one chair. He drew it over; got out the huge, - linen-mounted map of the Chinese Empire that is published by the China - Inland Mission, and studied the roads about T'ainan. That from the east—his - present route—swung to the south on emerging from the hills, and - approached the city nearly from that direction. Here, instead of turning - up into the city, he could easily enough strike south on the valley road, - perhaps reaching an apparently sizable village called Hung Chan by night. - </p> - <p> - He decided to do that, and afterward to push southwest. It should be - possible to find a way out along the rivers tributary to the Yangtse, - reaching that mighty stream at either Ichang or Hankow. And he would work - diligently, budding up again the life that had been so quickly and lightly - overset. At least, for the time. He must try himself out This riding his - emotions wouldn't do. At some stage of the complicated experience it was - going to be necessary to stop and think. Of course, if he should find - after a reasonable time, say a few months, that the emotion persisted, why - then, with his personal freedom established, he might write Betty, simply - stating his case. - </p> - <p> - And after all this, on the following afternoon, dusty, tired of body and - soul, Jonathan Brachey rode straight up to the East Gate of T'ainan-fu. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX—KNOTTED LIVES - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F Brachey had - approached that East Gate a year later he would have rolled comfortably - into the city in a rickshaw (which has followed the white man into China) - along a macadamized road bordered by curbing of concrete from the new - railway station. But in the spring of 1907 there was no station, no - pavement, not a rickshaw. The road was a deep-rutted way, dusty in dry - weather, muddy in wet, bordered by the crumbling shops and dwellings found - on the outskirts of every Chinese city. A high, bumpy little bridge of - stone spanned the moat. - </p> - <p> - Over this bridge rode Brachey, in his humble cart, sitting fiat under a - span of tattered matting, surrounded and backed by his boxes and bales of - food and water and his personal baggage. John and the cook rode behind on - mules. The muleteers walked. - </p> - <p> - Under the gate were lounging soldiers, coolies, beggars, and a - money-changer or two with their bags of silver lumps, their strings of - copper cash and their balanced scales. Two of the soldiers sprang forward - and stopped the cart. Despite their ragged uniforms (of a dingy blue, of - course, like all China, and capped with blue turbans) these were tall, - alert men. Brachey was rapidly coming to recognize the Northern Chinese as - a larger, browner, more vigorous type of being than the soft little yellow - men of the South with whom he had long been familiar in the United States - as well as in the East. A mure dangerous man, really, this northerner. - </p> - <p> - Brachey leaned back on his baggage and watched the little encounter - between his John and the two soldiers. Any such conversation in China is - likely to take up a good deal of time, with many gestures, much vehemence - of speech and an 'ncreasing volume of interference from the inevitable - curious crowd. The cook and the two muleteers joined the argument, Brachey - had learned before the first evening that this interpreter of his had no - English beyond the few pidgin phrases common to all speech along the - coast. And since leaving Shau T'ing it had transpired that the man's - Tientsin-Peking dialect sounded strange in the ears of Hansi John was now - in the position of an interpreter who could make headway in neither of the - languages in which he was supposed to deal. Brachey didn't mind. It kept - the man still. And he had learned years earlier that the small affairs of - routine traveling can be managed with but few spoken words. But just now, - idly watching the little scene, he would have liked to know what it meant. - </p> - <p> - Finally John came to the cart, followed by shouts from the soldiers and - the crowd. - </p> - <p> - “Card wanchee,” he managed to say. - </p> - <p> - “Card? No savvy,” said Brachey. - </p> - <p> - “Card,” John nodded earnestly. - </p> - <p> - Brachey produced his personal card, bearing his name in English and the - address of a New York club. - </p> - <p> - John studied it anxiously, and then passed it to one of the soldiers. That - official fingered it; turned it over; discussed it with his fellow. - Another discussion followed. - </p> - <p> - Brachey now lost interest. He filled and lighted his pipe; then drew from - a pocket a small leather-bound copy of <i>The Bible in Spain</i>, opened - at a bookmark, and began reading. - </p> - <p> - There was a wanderer after his own heart—George Borrow! An eager - adventurer, at home in any city of any clime, at ease in any company, a - fellow with gipsies, bandits, Arabs, Jews of Gibraltar and Greeks of - Madrid, known from Mogadore to Moscow. Bor-row's missionary employment - puzzled him as a curious inconsistency; his skill at making much of every - human contact was, to the misanthropic Brachey, enviable; his genius for - solitude, his self-sufficiency in every state, whether confined in prison - at Madrid or traversing alone the dangerous wilderness of Galicia, were to - Brachey points of fine fellowship. This man needed no wife, no friend. His - enthusiasm for the new type of human creature or the unfamiliar tongue - never weakened. - </p> - <p> - The cart jolted, creaking, forward, into the low tunnel that served as a - gateway through the massive wall. A soldier walked on either hand. Two - other soldiers walked in the rear. The crowd, increasing every moment, - trailed off behind. Small boys jeered, even threw bits of dirt and stones, - one of which struck a soldier and caused a brief diversion. - </p> - <p> - They creaked on through the narrow, crowded streets of the city. A murmur - ran ahead from shop to shop and corner to corner. Porters, swaying under - bending bamboo, shuffled along at a surprising pace and crowded past. - Merchants stood in doorways and puffed at lung pipes with tiny nickel - bowls as the strange parade went by. - </p> - <p> - Finally it stopped. Two great studded gates swung inward, and the cart - lurched into the courtyard of an inn. - </p> - <p> - Brachey appropriated a room, sent John for hot water, and coolly shaved. - Then he stretched out on the folding cot above its square of matting, - refilled his pipe and resumed his Borrow. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ithin half an hour - fresh soldiers appeared, armed with carbines and revolvers, and settled - themselves comfortably, two of them, by his door; two others taking up a - position at the compound gate. - </p> - <p> - They brought a letter, in Chinese characters, on red paper in a buff and - red envelope, which Brachey examined with curiosity. - </p> - <p> - “No savvy,” he said. - </p> - <p> - But the faithful John, inarticulate from confusion and fright could not - translate. - </p> - <p> - Between this hour in mid-afternoon and early evening, six of these - documents were passed in through Brachey's door. With the last one, John - appeared to see a little light. - </p> - <p> - “Number one policeman wanchee know pidgin belong you,” he explained - laboriously. - </p> - <p> - That would doubtless mean the police minister. So they wanted to know his - business! But as matters stood, with no other medium of communication than - John's patient but bewildered brain, explanation would be difficult. - Brachey reached for his book and read on. Something would have to happen, - of course. It really hardly mattered what. He even felt a little relief. - The authorities might settle his business for him. Pack him off. It would - be better. M. Pourmont's letter to Griggsby Doane had burned in his pocket - for two days. It had seemed to press him, like the hand of fate, to - Betty's very roof. Now, since he had become—the simile rose—a - passive shuttlecock, a counterplay of fate might prove a way out of his - dilemma. - </p> - <p> - He had chicken fried in oil for his dinner. And John ransacked the boxes - for dainties; as if the occasion demanded indulgence. - </p> - <p> - At eight John knocked with shaking hands at his door. It was dark in the - courtyard, and a soft April rain was falling. Two fresh soldiers stood - there, each with carbine on back and a lighted paper lantern in band. A - boy from the inn held two closed umbrellas of oiled paper. - </p> - <p> - “Go now,” said John, out of a dry throat. - </p> - <p> - “Go what side?” asked Brachey, surveying the little group. - </p> - <p> - John could not answer. - </p> - <p> - Brachey compressed his lips; stood there, knocking his pipe against the - door-post. Then, finally, he put on overcoat and rubber overshoes, took - one of the umbrellas, and set forth. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey walked a long - way through twisting, shadowy streets, first a soldier with the boy from - the inn, then Brachey under his umbrella, then John under another, then - the second soldier. Dim figures finished past them. Once the quaint waihng - of stringed instruments floated out over a compound wall. They passed - through a dark tunnel that must have been one of the city gates; then on - through other streets. - </p> - <p> - They stopped at a gate house. A door opened, and yellow lamplight fell - warmly across the way. Brachey found himself stepping up into a structure - that was and yet was not Chinese. A smiling old gate-keeper received him - with striking courtesy, and, to his surprise, in English. - </p> - <p> - “Will you come with me, sir?” - </p> - <p> - John and the soldiers waited in the gate house. - </p> - <p> - Brachey followed the old man across a paved court. His pulse quickened. - Where were they bringing him? - </p> - <p> - Through a window he saw a white woman sitting at a desk, under an American - lamp. - </p> - <p> - He mounted stone steps, left his coat and hat in a homelike front hall. - The servant led the way up a flight of carpeted stairs. - </p> - <p> - On the top step, Brachey paused. At the end of the corridor, where a chair - or two, a table, bookcase, and lamp made a pleasant little lounge, a young - woman sat quietly reading. She looked up; sat very still, gazing straight - at him out of a white face. It was Betty. His heart seemed to stop. - </p> - <p> - Then a man stood before him. A little, dusty blond man. They were clasping - hands. He was ushered rather abruptly into a study. The door closed. - </p> - <p> - The little man said something twice. It proved to be, “I am Mr. - Boatwright,” and he was looking down at the much-thumbed card; Brachey's - own card. - </p> - <p> - Brachey was fighting to gather his wits. Why hadn't he spoken to Betty, or - she to him? Would she wait there to see him? If not, how could he reach - her?... He must reach her, of course. He knew now that through all his - confusion of mind and spirit he had come straight to her. - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he little man was - nervous, Brachey observed; even jumpy. He hurried about, drawing down the - window-shades. Then he sat at a desk and with twitching fingers rolled a - pencil about. He cleared his throat. - </p> - <p> - “You've come in from the railroad?” he asked.... “Yes? Do you bring news?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Brachey coldly. - </p> - <p> - “What gossip have your boys picked up along the road, may I ask?” - </p> - <p> - Back and forth, back and forth, his fingers twitched the pencil. Bradley's - eyes narrowly followed the movement. After a little, he replied: - </p> - <p> - “I have no information from my boys.” - </p> - <p> - “Seven years ago”—thus Mr. Boatwright, huskily, “they killed all but - a few of us. Now the trouble has started again—a similar trouble - They attacked our station up at So T'ung yesterday. Mr. Doane is on his - way there now. He left this noon. That is why they referred your case to - me. Oh. yes, I should have told you—the tao-tai, Chang Chili Ting, - has asked me to get from you an explanation of your appearance here - without a passport. But perhaps your card explains. You come simply as a - journalist?” - </p> - <p> - Brachey bowed. - </p> - <p> - “You have no connection w ith the Ho Shan Company?” - </p> - <p> - “None” - </p> - <p> - “Chang is taking up your case this evening with the provincial judge, Pao - Ting Chuan. Pao is to give you an audience to-morrow, I believe, at noon. - I will act as your interpreter.” Mr. Boatwright paused, and sighed. “I am - very busy.” - </p> - <p> - “I regret this intrusion on your time,” said Brachey. It was impossible - for him to be more than barely courteous to such a man as this. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that's all right,” Boatwright replied vaguely. “The audience will - probably be at noon. Then you will come back here with me for tiffin.” He - sighed again; then went on. “They shot one of Pourmont's white men. - Through the lungs.... You must have seen Pourmont at Ping Yang, as you - came through.” - </p> - <p> - “I called on him.” - </p> - <p> - “Didn't he tell you?” - </p> - <p> - “No. He advised against my coming on.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course. It's really very difficult. He wants us all to get out, as far - as his compound. But, you see, our predicament is delicate. Already - they've attacked one of our outposts. But the trouble may not spread. We - can't draw in our people and leave at the first sign of difficulty. It - would be interpreted as weakness not only on our part but on the part of - all the white governments as well. Mr. Doane, I know”—he said this - rather regretfully—“would never consent to that.... Mr. Doane is a - strong man. We shall all breathe a little more easily when he is safely - back. If he should not get back—well, you will see that I must face - this situation—-the decision would fall on me. That's why I asked - you for news. I have to consider the problem from every angle. We have - other stations about the province and we must plan to draw all our people - in before we can even consider a general retreat.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey heard part of this. He wished the man would keep still: His own - racing thoughts were with that pale girl in the hall. Was she still there? - He must plan. He must be prepared with something to say, if they should - meet face to face. - </p> - <p> - As it turned out, they met on the stairs. Betty was coming up. She paused; - looked up, then down. The color stole back into her face; flooded it. She - raised her hand, hesitatingly. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0179.jpg" alt="0179 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0179.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Brachey heard and felt the surprise of Boatwright, behind him. The little - man said: - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” - </p> - <p> - Brachey felt the warm little hand in his. It should have been, easy to - explain their acquaintance; to speak of the ship, ask after the Hasmers. - In the event, however, it proved impossible, all he could say—he - heard the dry hard tones issuing from his own lips: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, how do you do! How have you been?” - </p> - <p> - Betty said, after too long a pause, glancing up momentarily at Mr. - Boatwright: - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Brachey was on the steamer.” - </p> - <p> - It was odd, that little situation. It might so easily have escaped being a - situation, had not their own turbulent hearts made it so. But now, of - course, neither could explain why they hadn't spoke before he went into - the study. And little, distrait Mr. Boatwright was wide-eyed. - </p> - <p> - The situation passed from mildly bad to a little worse. Betty went on up - the stairs; and Brachey went down. - </p> - <p> - The casual parting came upon Brachey like a tragedy. It was unthinkable. - Something personal he must say. On the morrow it might be worse, with a - whole household crowding about. It was a question if he could face her at - all, that way. He got to the bottom step; then, with an apparently - offhand, “I beg your pardon!” brushed past the now openly astonished - Boatwright and bolted back up the stairs. - </p> - <p> - Betty moved a little way along the upper hall; hesitated; glanced back. - </p> - <p> - He spoke, low, in her ear. “I must see you!” - </p> - <p> - Her head inclined a little. - </p> - <p> - “Once! I must see you once. I can't leave it this way. Then I will go. - To-morrow—at tiffin—if we can't talk together—you must - give me some word. A note, perhaps, telling me how I can see you alone. - There is one thing I must tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “Please!” she murmured. There were tears in her eyes. They scalded his own - high-beating heart, those tears. - </p> - <p> - “You will plan it? I am helpless. But I must see you—tell you!” - </p> - <p> - He thought her head inclined again. - </p> - <p> - “You will? You'll give me a note? Oh, promise!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she whispered; and slipped away into another room. - </p> - <p> - So this is why he had to come to T'ainan-fu—to tell her the - tremendous news that he would one day be free! And she had promised to - arrange a meeting! - </p> - <p> - Never in all his cold life had Jonathan Brachey experienced such a thrill - as followed that soft “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - Not a word passed between him and Boatwright until they stood in the gate - house. Then, for an instant, their eyes met. He had to fight back the - burning triumph that was in his own. But the little man seemed glad to - look away; he was even evasive. - </p> - <p> - “You'd better be around about half past eleven in the morning,” said he. - “We'll go to the yamen from here. We must have blue carts and the extra - servants. Good night.” And again he sighed. - </p> - <p> - That was all. Boatwright let him go like that, back to the dirty, - dangerous native inn. - </p> - <p> - He fell in behind the leading soldier, holding his umbrella high and - marching stiffly, like a conqueror, through the sucking mud. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X—GRANITE - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ETTY did not get - down for breakfast in the morning. And Mrs. Boatwright sent nothing up. - </p> - <p> - It was close upon noon when Betty, sketching portfolio under arm, came - slowly down the stairs. Mrs. Boatwright, at her desk in the front room, - glanced up, called: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Betty—just a moment!” - </p> - <p> - The girl stood in the doorway. She looked so slim and small and, even, - childlike, that the older woman, to whom responsibility for all things and - persons about her was a habit, knit her heavy brows slightly. What on - earth were you to do with the child? What had Griggsby Doane been thinking - of in bringing her out here? Anything, almost, would have been better. And - just now, of all times! - </p> - <p> - “Would you mind coming in? There's a question or two I'd like to ask you.” - </p> - <p> - Betty paused by a rocking chair of black walnut that was upholstered in - crimson plush; fingered the crimson fringe. Mrs. Boatwright was marking - out a geometrical pattern on the back of an envelope; frowning down at it. - The silence grew heavy. - </p> - <p> - Finally Mrs. Boatwright, never light of hand, rame out with: - </p> - <p> - “This Mr. Brachey—who is he?” - </p> - <p> - Betty's fringed lids moved swiftly up; dropped again. “He—he's a - writer, a journalist.” - </p> - <p> - “You knew him on the ship?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “You knew him pretty well?” - </p> - <p> - “I—saw something of him.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you know why he came out here?” - </p> - <p> - Betty was silent. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know?” - </p> - <p> - “I should think you would ask him.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright considered this. The girl was selfconscious, a little. And - quietly—very quietly—hostile. Or perhaps merely on the - defensive. - </p> - <p> - “Then you do know?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” replied Betty, with that same very quiet gravity, “I can't say that - I do. He is studying China, of course. He came from America to do that, I - understand.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you know he was coming out here?” - </p> - <p> - Betty slowly shook her head. - </p> - <p> - “Have you been corresponding with him?” - </p> - <p> - Another silence. Then this from Betty, without heat: - </p> - <p> - “I don't understand why you are asking these questions.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you unwilling to answer them?” - </p> - <p> - “Such personal questions as that last one—yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Why?” - </p> - <p> - “You have no right to ask it.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” Mrs. Boatwright considered. “Hmm!” She controlled her temper and - framed her next remark with care. This slip of a girl was unexpectedly in - fiber like Griggsby Doane. There was no weakness in her quiet resistance, - no yielding. Perhaps she was strong, after all. Though she looked soft - enough; gentle like her mother. Perhaps, even, she was a person, of - herself. This was a new thought. Mrs. Boatwright drew a parallelogram, - then painstakingly shaded the lines. - </p> - <p> - “We mustn't misunderstand each other, Betty,” she said. “In your father's - absence, I am responsible for you. This man has appeared rather - mysteriously. His business is not clear. The tao-tai asked Mr. Boatwright - to look him up, for it seems he hasn't even an interpreter. He has just - been here. They've gone for an audience with the provincial judge. Mr. - Boatwright has asked him to come back here for tiffin. Which was rather - impulsive, I'm afraid....” She paused; started outlining an octagon. “I - may as well come out with it. Mr. Boatwright told me a little of what - happened last evening—” - </p> - <p> - “Of what happened But nothing—” - </p> - <p> - “If you please! Mr. Boatwright is not a particularly observant man in - these matters, but he couldn't help seeing that there is something between - you and this Mr. Brachey.... Now, since you see what is in my mind, will - you tell me why he is here?” - </p> - <p> - During this speech Betty stopped fingering the crimson fringe. She stood - motionless, holding the portfolio still against her side. A slow color - crept into her cheeks. She wouldn't, or couldn't, speak. - </p> - <p> - “Very well, if you won't answer that question, will you at least tell me - something of what you do know about him?” - </p> - <p> - “I know very little about him,” said Betty now, in a low but clear voice, - without emphasis. - </p> - <p> - “I must try to make you understand this, my dear. Here the man is. Within - the hour we are to sit down at tiffin with him. It is growing clearer - every minute that Mr. Boatwright's suspicion was correct— - </p> - <p> - “You have no right to use that word!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, his surmise, say. There <i>is</i> something between you and - this man. Don't you think you'd better tell me what it is?” - </p> - <p> - “There is nothing—nothing at all—that I need tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “Is there nothing that you ought to tell your father?” - </p> - <p> - “You can not speak for him.” - </p> - <p> - “I stand in his place, while he's away It is a responsibility I must - accept. You say you know very little about the man?” - </p> - <p> - Betty bowed. - </p> - <p> - “You met him on the ship, by chance?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you know any of his friends?” - </p> - <p> - “No.” - </p> - <p> - “Anything of his past?” - </p> - <p> - Betty hesitated. Then, as the woman glanced keenly up, she replied: - </p> - <p> - “Only what he has told me.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you know, even, whether he is a married man?” - </p> - <p> - Another long silence fell. Betty stood as quietly as before, looking out - of frank brown eyes at the sunlit courtyard and the gate house beyond - where old Sun Shao-i, seated on a stool, was having the inside of his - eyelids scraped by an itinerant barber. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Betty replied. - </p> - <p> - “You mean—?” - </p> - <p> - “I know that he <i>is</i> married.” - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>etty, as she threw - out this bit of uncompromising truth, was stirred with a thrill of wilder - adventure than had hitherto entered her somewhat untrammeled young life. - The situation had outrun her experience; she was acting on instinct. There - was a sense of shock, too; and of hurt—hurt that Mrs. Boatwright - could look, feel, so forbidding. Her firm face, now pressed together from - chin to forehead, wrinkled across, squinting unutterable suspicions, - stirred a resistance in Betty's breast that for a little time flared into - anger. - </p> - <p> - There was no telling what Mrs. Boatwright felt. Her frown even relaxed, - after a moment. The outbreak of moral superiority that Betty looked for - didn't come. Instead she said: - </p> - <p> - “How did you learn this?” - </p> - <p> - “He told me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he told you?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, he wrote a letter before he—went away.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh. he went away!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. He went. Without a word. I didn't know where he was.” - </p> - <p> - “When was that?” - </p> - <p> - “When we landed at Shanghai.” - </p> - <p> - “Hardly three weeks ago. He's here now. Tell me—he wouldn't have - gone off like that, of course, leaving such an intimate letter, unless a - pretty definite situation had arisen.” - </p> - <p> - Betty was silent. - </p> - <p> - “Will you tell me what it was?” - </p> - <p> - “No.” - </p> - <p> - “Then—I really have a right to ask this of you—will you give - me your word not to see him until your father returns, and then not until - you have laid it before him?” - </p> - <p> - Silence again. The fringed lids fluttered. A small hand reached for the - crimson fringe, slim fingers clung there. - </p> - <p> - Betty's thoughts were running away. She felt the situation now as a form - of torture. That grim experienced woman must be partly right, of course; - Betty was still so young as to defer mechanically to her elders, and she - had no great opinion of herself, of her strength of character or her - judgment. She thought of the boys at home, who had been fond of her. ... - She thought of Harold Apgar, over there in Korea. He was clean, likable, - prosperous; and he wanted to marry her. It really would solve her - problems, could she only feel toward him so much as a faint reflection of - the glow that Jonathan Brachey had aroused in her. But nothing in her - nature answered Harold Apgar. For that matter—and this was the - deeply confusing thing—she could not formulate her feeling for - Brachey. She couldn't admit that she loved him. The thought of giving her - life into his keeping—one day, should he come to her with clean - hands; should he ask—was not to be entertained at all. But she - couldn't think of him without excitement; and that excitement, last night - and to-day, was the dominant fact in her life. She had no plans in which - he figured. She was vaguely bent on forgetting him. During the night she - had regretted her promise to meet him once more alone. Yet she had given - that promise. Given the same situation she would—she knew with a - touch of bewilderment that this was so—promise again. - </p> - <p> - Betty looked appealingly at Mr. Boatwright. Then, meeting with no - sympathy, she drew up her little figure. - </p> - <p> - “You said he was coming here for tiffin, Mrs. Boatwright?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” The woman glanced out at the courtyard. “Any moment.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I shan't come into the dining-room.” And Betty turned to leave the - room. - </p> - <p> - “Just a moment! Am I to take that as an answer? Are you promising?” - </p> - <p> - Hetty turned; hesitated; then, suddenly, impulsively, came across the - room. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Boatwright,” she said unsteadily—her eyes were filling—“would - it do any good for me to talk right out with you? Probably I do need - advice.” She faltered momentarily, shocked by the expression on that - nearly square face. “Oh, it isn't a terribly serious situation. It really - isn't. But that man is honest. He has led an unhappy, solitary life...” - </p> - <p> - Her voice died out. - </p> - <p> - “But you said he was <i>married!</i>” cried Mrs. Boatwright explosively. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but—” - </p> - <p> - “'But! But!' Child, what are you talking about?” - </p> - <p> - There was nothing in Betty's experience of life that could interpret to - her mind such a point of view as that really held by the woman before her. - She had no means of knowing that they were speaking across a gulf wider - and deeper perhaps than has ever before existed between two generations; - and that each of them, quite unconsciously, was an extreme example of her - type. She turned again. - </p> - <p> - It was a commotion out at the gate house that arrested her this time. She - felt that curious excitement rising up in her heart and brain. Old Sun was - springing up from the barber's stool, with his always great dignity - brushing that public servitor aside. Then Brachey appeared, followed by - Mr. Boatwright. - </p> - <p> - The wife of that little man now caught the look on Betty's face, the - sudden light in her eyes, and rose, alarmed, to her feet. Taking in the - situation, she said: - </p> - <p> - “I shall send something up to your room.” - </p> - <p> - Betty moved her head wanly in the negative. It was no use explaining to - this woman that she couldn't think of food. She moved slowly toward the - door. She was unexpectedly tired. - </p> - <p> - “Where are you going?” asked the older woman shortly. - </p> - <p> - “I've got to be by myself,” said Betty, apparently less resentful now. It - was more a rather faint statement of fact. And she went on out, not so - much as answering Mrs. Boatwright's final “But you will not promise?” It - wasn't even certain that she heard. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>rs. Boatwright - stood thinking. Betty had run up the stairs. The two men were coming - slowly across the courtyard, talking. Or her husband was talking; she - could hear his light voice. The other man was silent; a gloomy figure in - knickerbockers. She studied him. Already he was catalogued in her mind, - and permanently. For nothing that might happen to present Brachey in - another light could ever, now, shake her judgment of him. No new evidence - of ability or integrity in the man or of genuine misfortune in marriage, - would influence her. No play of sympathy, no tolerant reflectiveness, - would for a moment occupy her mind. She was a New Englander, with the old - non-conformist British insistence on conduct and duty bred in her bone. - Her emotional nature was almost the granite of her native lulls. And she - was strong as that granite. She feared nothing, shrank from nothing, that - could be classified as duty. No Latin flexibility ever softened her - vigorous expression of independent thought. Her duty, now, was clear. - </p> - <p> - She went out into the hall and opened the door. - </p> - <p> - The two men were just mounting the steps. - </p> - <p> - “My dear,” began her husband, sensing her mood, glancing up - apprehensively, “this is Mr. Brachey. He— - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said she, standing squarely in the doorway, “I understand. Mr. - Brachey, I can not receive you in this house. You, of course, know why. I - must ask you to go at once.” - </p> - <p> - Then she simply waited; commandingly. From her eyes blazed honest, - invincible anger. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Boatwright caught his breath; stood motionless, very white; finally - murmured: - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear, I'm sure you...” - </p> - <p> - His wife merely glanced at him. - </p> - <p> - Brachey stood as she had caught him, on the steps, one foot above the - other. His face was expressionless. His eyes fastened on the woman a gaze - that might have meant no more than cold curiosity, growing slowly into - contempt. Then, after a moment, as quietly, he turned and descended the - steps. - </p> - <p> - Boatwright caught his arm. - </p> - <p> - “Really, Mr. Brachey—” - </p> - <p> - “Elmer!” cried his wife shortly. “Let him go!” - </p> - <p> - But Brachey had already shaken off the detaining hand. He marched straight - across the court, stepped into the gate house, and disappeared. - </p> - <p> - Betty, all hurt confusion, had lingered in the second floor hall. At the - first sound of Mrs. Boatwright's firm voice, she stepped, her brain a - tangle of little indecisions, to the stair rail. - </p> - <p> - She ran lightly to the front window and watched Jonathan Brachey as he - walked away. Then she shut herself in her own room, telling herself that - the time had come to think it all out. But she couldn't think. - </p> - <p> - Against the granite in Mrs. Boatwright Betty, who understood herself not - at all, had to set a quick strong impulsiveness that was certain, given a - little time, to work out in positive act. Very little time indeed now - intervened between impulse and act. She scribbled a note, in pencil: - </p> - <p> - “Dear Mr. Brachey—I am going out to sketch in the tennis court. You - can reach it by the little side street just beyond our gate house as you - come from the city. Please do come!—Betty D.” - </p> - <p> - She went down the stairs again, portfolio under arm, and on to the gate - house. Sun, as she had thought, knew at which inn the white gentleman was - stopping, and at Miss Doane's request sent a boy with the chit. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI—EMOTION - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>RACHEY came - suddenly into view, around the corner of the wall from the little side - street. - </p> - <p> - He was dressed almost stiffly—not in knickerbockers now, but in what - would be called at home a business suit, with stiff white collar and a - soft but correct hat; and he carried a stick—like an Englishman, - Betty thought, careful to the last of appearances. As if there were no - such thing as danger; only stability. She might have been back in the - comfortable New Jersey town and he a casual caller. And then, after taking - him in, in a quick conflict of moods that left her breathless, she glanced - hurriedly about. But only the blank compound wall met her gaze, and tile - roofs, with the chimneys of the higher mission house peeping above - foliage. The gate was but a narrow opening, near the farther end of the - tennis court. No one could see. For that matter, it was to be doubted that - any one in the compound knew she was here. And beyond the little street - stood another blank wall.... And he had come! - </p> - <p> - She could not know that she seemed very composed as she laid her portfolio - on the camp stool and rose. Then her hand was in his. Her voice said: - </p> - <p> - “It was nice of you to come. But—” - </p> - <p> - “When I asked for a meeting—for one meeting....” Her eyes were down; - he was set, as for a formal speech.... “It was, as you may imagine, - because a matter has arisen that seems to me of the greatest importance.” - </p> - <p> - She wondered what made him talk like that. As if determined to appeal to - her mind. She couldn't listen; not with her mind; she was all feeling. He - was a stranger, this man. Yet she had thought tenderly of him. It was - difficult. - </p> - <p> - “You didn't come alone?” she asked, unaware that her manner, too, was - formal. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. Oh, yes! I know the way.” - </p> - <p> - “But it isn't safe. When I wrote... I heard what Mrs. Boatwright said. I - was angry.” - </p> - <p> - “She was very rude.” - </p> - <p> - “It seemed as if I ought to get word to you—after that. I promised, - of course.” - </p> - <p> - “But your note surprised me.” - </p> - <p> - “You thought I wouldn't keep my promise?” - </p> - <p> - “I wasn't sure that you could.” - </p> - <p> - “If you hadn't heard from me, what would you have done?” - </p> - <p> - “I should have left T'ainan this afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - “But how could you? Where could you go?” - </p> - <p> - “The provincial judge has assigned four soldiers to me. He was most - courteous. He wants me to publish articles in America and England against - the Ho Shan Company. He seems a very astute man. And he sent runners to - the inn just now with presents.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh—what were they?” - </p> - <p> - “Some old tins of sauerkraut. A German traveler must have left them here.” - </p> - <p> - Betty smiled. Then, sober again, said: - </p> - <p> - “But you should have brought the soldiers with, you.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no. I preferred being alone.” - </p> - <p> - “But I don't think you understand. It isn't safe to go about alone now. - Not if you're a white man. I don't like to think that I've put you in - danger.” - </p> - <p> - “You haven't. It doesn't matter. As I was about to tell you... you must - understand that I assume no interest on your part—I can't do that, - of course—but after what happened, that night on the ship...” He was - ha\ing difficulty with this set speech of his. Betty averted her face to - hide the warm color that came. Why on earth need he come out with it so - heavily! Whatever had happened had happened, that was all!... His voice - was going on. Something about a divorce. He was to be free shortly. He - said that. He sounded almost cold about it, deliberate. And he had come - clear out here to T'ainan just to say that. He <i>was</i> assuming, of - course. To a painful degree. He seemed to feel that he owed it to her to - make some sort of payment... for kissing her... and the payment, - apparently, was to be himself. She was moved by a little wave of anger. - She managed to say: - </p> - <p> - “We won't talk about that.” - </p> - <p> - “I felt that I must tell you. I'll go now, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “But...” - </p> - <p> - “As soon as I am free I shall write you. I will ask you, then, to be my - wife.” - </p> - <p> - He drew himself up, at this, stiffly. - </p> - <p> - Betty's blush was a flush now. She gathered up her drawing tilings; - deliberately arranged the sheets of paper in the portfolio. - </p> - <p> - “I shall say good-by... - </p> - <p> - “Wait,” said Betty, rather shortly, not looking up “You mustn't go like - this.” - </p> - <p> - There was a long silence. Then, abruptly, he broke out: - </p> - <p> - “There is no way that I can stay. I would bring you only trouble. And it - will be easier for me to go. Of course, I should never have come. It has - been very upsetting, I haven't faced it honestly. I wanted to forget you. - I've been tortured. And then I learned that you were in danger. I—can't - talk about it!” And he clamped his lips shut. - </p> - <p> - Betty opened her portfolio and slowly fingered the sheets of drawing - paper. Her eyes filled; she had to keep them down. - </p> - <p> - “Where are you going?” Her voice was no more than a murmur. She said it - again, a little louder: “Where are you going?” - </p> - <p> - “Back to the inn. And then, perhaps—” - </p> - <p> - “You mustn't leave T'ainan.” - </p> - <p> - “That is the difficulty. I couldn't save myself and leave you here.” - </p> - <p> - “On your account, I mean. We're safe enough; I've heard them talking at - the house. Pao will protect us. And Chang, the tao-tai. But if you were to - go out alone—on the highway—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that is nothing. I have soldiers.” - </p> - <p> - “You said four soldiers. Father was attacked right here in the city, with - Chang and his body-guard defending him. They even tore Chang's clothes.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't care about myself,” said he. - </p> - <p> - She glanced up at him. She knew he spoke the truth, however bitter his - spirit. He was talking on: “Don't misunderstand me....” - </p> - <p> - “I don't.” - </p> - <p> - “This journey has been a time of painful self-revelation. I used to think - myself strong. That was absurd, of course. I am very weak. In this new - trouble my will seems to have broken down. Yes, it has broken down; I may - as well admit it. I had no right to fall in love with you. Already I have - injured the life of one woman. Now, by merely coming out here in this - ill-considered way, I am injuring yours.... The worst of it is these - moments of terrible feeling. They make it impossible for me to reason. At - one time I can really believe that a fatal accident out here—an - accident to myself—would be the best thing that could happen for - everybody concerned: but then, in a moment, I become inflamed with - feeling, and desire, and a perfectly unreasonable hope.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder,” mused Betty, moved now by something near a thrill of power—a - disturbing sort of power—“if love is like that.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know. I don't even know if this is love Part of the time I resent - you.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!... Well—yes, I can understand that.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you resent me?” - </p> - <p> - “Sometimes.” - </p> - <p> - “In my lucid moments I sec the thing clearly enough. It is simply an - impossible situation. And I have added the final touch by coming out - here.” He seated himself on a block of stone, and rested his chin moodily - on his two hands. “That is what disturbs me—it frightens me. I have - watched other men and women going through this queer confusion we call - falling in love. I've pitied them. They were weak, helpless, surrendering - the reasoning faculty to sheer emotion. Sometimes, I've thought of them as - creatures caught in a net.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” Betty breathed softly, “I've never thought.. I wonder if it is like - that.” - </p> - <p> - “It is with me. I see no happiness in it. I hope you will never have to - live through what I've lived through these past few weeks. And now I sit - here——weakly—knowing I ought to go at once and never - disturb you again. But the thought of going—of saying good-by—is - terrible. It's one more thing I seem unable to face.” - </p> - <p> - Betty was struggling now against tumultuous thoughts. And without - overcoming them, without even making headway against them, she spoke: - </p> - <p> - “I can't let you take all this on yourself. I must have—well made it - hard for you, there on the ship. I enjoyed being with you.” - </p> - <p> - This was all she could say about that. - </p> - <p> - There was a long, long silence. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly, with an inarticulate exclamation, he sprang up. - </p> - <p> - Startled, all impulses, she caught his hand. His fingers tightened about - hers. - </p> - <p> - “What?” she asked, breathless. - </p> - <p> - “I'll go.” - </p> - <p> - “Not away from T'ainan?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. It's the only thing. After all, it doesn't matter much what happens - to any individual. We've got to take that chance. When my—when I'm—free, - if I'm alive, and you're alive. I'll write you. I won't come—I'll - write. Meanwhile, you can make up your mind. All I'll ask of you then is a - decision. I'll accept it.” - </p> - <p> - Her fingers were twisting around his. She couldn't look up at him, nor he - down at her. - </p> - <p> - “When shall you leave T'ainan?” - </p> - <p> - “Now—this afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - “No.” - </p> - <p> - “But... don't you see?.. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know what to say.” - </p> - <p> - He knelt beside her. - </p> - <p> - “You dear child!” he murmured unsteadily, “can't you see what a trouble - we're in? It's my fault—” - </p> - <p> - “It's no more your fault than mine.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, but it is! I'm an experienced man. You're a girl. They're right in - blaming me.” - </p> - <p> - “People can't help their feelings.” - </p> - <p> - “God, if they could! Don't you see, child, that I can't stay near you? I - can't look at you—you're so little, so pretty, so charming! When I'm - with you, all this feeling, all the warm feminine quality, all the - beautiful magic that's been shut out of my life comes to me through you. - It drives me crazy.... Betty, God forgive me! I can't help it—this - once! It's good-by.” He took her lightly, reverently, in his arms, and - brushed his lips against her forehead. Then he arose. - </p> - <p> - “Good-by, Betty!” - </p> - <p> - “It's too late to start to-day. You can't travel Chinese roads at night.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll start early in the morning.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll—if you—I'll come out here this evening. I think I can.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh—Betty!...” - </p> - <p> - “It may be a little late. Perhaps about half past eight. They'll all be - busy then.... Just for a little while.” - </p> - <p> - He considered this. “It's wrong,” he said. “But what's the good of my - deciding not to come. Of course I will.” - </p> - <p> - “You came clear to T'ainan.” - </p> - <p> - “I know....” - </p> - <p> - “And how about me!” she broke out. “I'm shut in a prison here. You're the - only friend that's come—the only person I can talk with. Father is - wonderful, but he's busy and worried, and I'm his daughter, and we can't - talk much. And you and I—if you're going in the morning—we - can't leave things—our very lives”—her voice wavered—“like - this.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll come,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “And keep the soldiers with you.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll come.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if it is like a net,” said she. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII—STORM CENTER - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>HINA, in its - vastness, its mystery, its permanence, its ceaseless ebb and flow of - myriad, uncounted life, suggests the ocean. The surface is restless, - ripped by universal family discord, whipped by gusts of passion from tong - or tribe, upheaved by political storms, but everywhere in the unsounded - depths lies the peace of submissiveness. Within its boundaries breathes - sufficient power to overwhelm the world, yet only on the self-conscious - surface is this power sensed and slightly used. Chinese life, in city and - village, as in the teeming countryside, moves in disorganized poverty - about its laborious daily tasks, little more aware of the surface - political currents than are Crustacea at the bottom of the sea of ships - passing overhead; while to these patient minds the mighty adventure of the - Western World is no more than a breath upon the waters. - </p> - <p> - This simile found a place among the darker thoughts of Griggsby Doane as - he tramped down into the fertile valley of the Han. Behind him lay - tragedy; yet on every hand the farmers were at work upon the narrow - holdings that terraced the red hills to their summits. At each countryside - well the half-naked coolies—two, three, or four of them—were - turning windlasses and emptying buckets of water into stone troughs from - which trickled little painstakingly measured streams to the sunbaked - furrow of this or that or another field. The trains of asses anil camels - wound ceaselessly up and down the road that led from the northern hills to - T'ainan. The roadside vendors and beggars chanted their wares and their - grievances. The villages, always indolent, lived on exactly as always, - stirred only by noisy bargains or other trivial excitement. The naked - children tumbled about. It w as hard to believe that here could be—had - so lately been—violence and cruelty. It was simply one of the - occasions, evidently, when no Lookers or hostile young men happened to be - about to shout their familiar taunts at the white devil. Though the - fighting of 1900, for that matter, had passed like a wave, leaving hardly - more trace. Still more, at dusk, the outskirts of the great city stirred - perplexing thoughts. The quiet of a Chinese evening was settling on shops - and homes. Children's voices carried brightly over compound walls. Kites - flew overhead. The music of stringed instalments floated pleasantly, - faintly, to the ear. - </p> - <p> - And every quaint sight and sound was registered with a fresh vividness on - Doane's highly strung nerves. He was tired; might easily, too easily, - become irritable; a fact he sensed and struggled to guard against. Now, of - all occasions in his life, he must exercise self-control. Difficult tasks - lay directly ahead. One would be the talk with Pao Ting Chuan about the So - T'ung massacre. Pao was, in his Oriental way, friendly; but his way was - Oriental. It would be necessary to meet him at every evasive turn; - necessary to read behind every courteous speech of a cultivated and - charming gentleman the complex motivation of a mandarin skilled in the - intricate relationships of the Court of Peking. Helping avert trouble was - one matter; Pao could doubtless, or apparently, be counted on to that - extent; but assuming full responsibility for the taking of white life and - the destruction of white man's property, was a vastly more complicated - matter. No other sort of human creature is so skilful at evading - responsibility as the Chinaman; this, perhaps, because responsibility, - once accepted, is, under the Chinese tradition and system, inescapable.... - Another task, of course, would be the telling Boatwright of his personal - disaster. It still seemed better to do this before the news could drift - around in some vulgar, disruptive way from Shanghai. He couldn't plan this - talk, not yet; but a way would doubtless present itself. He stood before - his God, in his own strong heart, convicted of sin. There had been - moments, during the tramp southward, when he found himself welcoming this - nearly public self-arraignment with a bitter eagerness. But at such - moments pictures of Betty rose in his mind, and of the gentle beautiful - wife of his youth—wistful, delicately traced pictures. - </p> - <p> - His face would change then; the lines would deepen and a look of torment, - of wild hurt animal strength that was new, would appear in and about his - deep-shaded eyes. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s he drew near the - mission compound his stride shortened and slowed. Once he stopped, and for - a brief bme stood motionless, not heeding the curious Chinese who passed - (dim figures with soft-padded shoes), his lips drawn tightly together over - nervous mutterings that nearly, once or twice, came out as sounds. He was - not a man who talks out overwrought feelings on the public way. The - tendency alarmed him. - </p> - <p> - He came deliberately into the gate house. Here, talking in some excitement - with old Sun, were four or five of the servants. - </p> - <p> - He paused to ask what was the matter. To take hold again, to step so - quickly into his position as head of the compound, brought a sense of - relief. That would be habit functioning. A moment later, his confusion was - deeper than before; in one of those quick flashes that can illuminate and - occupy the inner mind while the outer is engaged with the brisk affairs of - life, he was wondering how soon these men would know what he was, what - pitiful sort he had overnight become; and what they would think of him, - they who now obeyed and loved him. - </p> - <p> - 'They told him the gossip of the streets. Those strange soldiers, Lookers, - from beyond the western mountains, had been coming of late to the yamen of - old Kang Hsu. Kang, so ran the local story, had reviewed these troops - within the twelve hours, witnessing their incantations, giving them his - approval. - </p> - <p> - Doane said what little he could to quiet their fears; he even managed a - rather austere smile; then passed on into the courtyard. - </p> - <p> - Dr. Cassin came slowly down the steps from the dispensary, her keys - jingling in her hand. She was a spare, competent woman, deeply consecrated - to her work, but not lacking in kindliness. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Mr. Doane!” she said. Then, “How did you find things at So T'ung?” - </p> - <p> - He stood a moment, looking at her. - </p> - <p> - “Very bad,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Not—well—” - </p> - <p> - Doane inclined his head. “Yes, Jen is gone—and twelve to fifteen - others. Shot or burned. One helper escaped. I could get word of no others. - One of Monsieur Pourmont's engineers helped very bravely in the defense, - but was finally clubbed to death.” - </p> - <p> - Dr. Cassin stood silent; then drew in her breath sharply. The keys - jingled. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” she murmured in a broken voice, “That <i>is</i> bad!” - </p> - <p> - “It couldn't be worse. How is it here?” - </p> - <p> - “Well”—she pursed her lips—“I'm afraid we've all been getting - a little nervous. It's well you're back. We need you. The servants are - jumpy....” - </p> - <p> - “I gathered that, in the gate house.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder... in the fighting at So T'ung there must have been a good many - wounded... - </p> - <p> - “Among the attackers, yes; the Lookers themselves, and village rowdies.” - </p> - <p> - “I was wondering... mightn't it be a good thing for me to go up there and - take charge?” - </p> - <p> - “No.” - </p> - <p> - “For the effect it might have on the people, I mean. Wouldn't it help - restore their confidence in us?” - </p> - <p> - “No, Doctor. The people—except the young men—haven't changed. - Trouble will come wherever the Lookers go. No, your place is here.” - </p> - <p> - Once in the mission residence, Doane hurried up the two flights of stairs - to his own rooms. He met no one; the door of Boatwright's study was - closed. - </p> - <p> - So they needed him. The strain was shaking their monde a little. It was - really not surprising, after 1900. But if they needed him it was no time - to indulge his own emotions. He would have to take hold again, that was - all; perhaps keep hold, letting the news that was to be to him so evil - come up as it might. He sighed as he closed his door. Some sort of a scene - there must be; at least a talk with the Boatwrights about So T'ung and - about the local problem.... One thing he could do; remove his dusty - clothing, wash, put on fresh things. It would help a little, just the - physical refreshment. He went back to the door and locked it..... - Boatwright would be up, almost certainly. - </p> - <p> - Very shortly came the familiar hesitant tapping. For years the little man - had made his presence known in that same faintly timid way. It was - irritating.... Doane called out that he would be down soon. - </p> - <p> - “Oh... all right... thank you!” Thus Boatwright, outside the door. And - then he moved slowly, uncertainly, down the stairs. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>oatwright was - sitting idle at his desk, rolling a pencil about. It was an old roll-top - desk from Michigan via Shanghai. Doane closed the door, quietly, and drew - up a chair. - </p> - <p> - “You'd better read this.” Boatwright spread a telegram on the desk. “I - haven't told the others. It came late this afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - The message was from Mrs. Nacy, acting dean of the little college at Hung - Chan. - </p> - <p> - “Several hundred Lookers”—it ran—“broke into compound this - noon and took all our food, slightly injuring cook and helper who - resisted; they order us to send all girl students home; remain at present - carousing near compound; very threatening; commander forbids any - communication with you as they seem to fear you and your influence at - Judge's yamen, though boasting that Treasurer now rules province and that - Judge will be fortunate to escape with his life; wish greatly you could be - here.” - </p> - <p> - Doane, sifting very quietly, shading his eyes with a powerful hand, read - the message twice; then asked, calmly: - </p> - <p> - “Have you notified Pao?” - </p> - <p> - “Not yet. Your message came several hours earlier. It seemed wise to wait - for yuu.” - </p> - <p> - Doane considered the matter; then reached for red paper, ink pot and - brush, and wrote, in Chinese, the equivalent of the following note: - </p> - <p> - “I beg to report that a band of Lookers at So T'ung, assisted by local - young men, killed Jen Ling Pu and about fourteen others, including white - engineer named Beggins from compound of Monsieur Pourmont at Ping Yang. - Considerable property destroyed. Several buildings burned to ground. - Further, to-day, comes a report of attack on the Mission College at Hung - Chan, with urgent appeal for help. I am going to Hung Chan at once, - to-night, and must beg of Your Excellency immediate support from local - officials and troops. I must further beg to advise Your Excellency that I - am reporting these unfortunate events to the American Minister at Peking - by telegraph to-night and to suggest that only the greatest promptness and - firmness on your part can now avert widespread trouble which threatens to - bow the head of China once more with shame in the dust. - </p> - <p> - “James Griggsby Doane.” - </p> - <p> - He struck a bell then, and to the servant who entered gave instructions - regarding the etiquette to be observed in promptly delivering the note at - the yamen of the provincial judge. - </p> - <p> - “I am worried, I'll admit, about Kang,” observed Boatwright, when the - servant had gone. He said this without looking up, rolling the pencil back - and forth, back and forth. His voice was light and husky. - </p> - <p> - Deane, watching him, felt now that his own task was to forget self - utterly. It was beginning, even, to seem the pleasantly selfish course. - The trip down to Hung Chan he welcomed. He would drive himself - mercilessly; it would be an escaping from his thoughts. Moments had come, - during the walk from So T'ung, when for the first time in his life he - understood suicide. So many men fell back on it during the tragic - disillusionments of middle life. The trouble with suicide, of course, this - sort, was the element of cowardice. He wasn't beaten. Not yet. At least, - he had strength left, and physical courage. No, action was the thing. It - was the sort of contribution he was best fitted to give these helpless, - frightened people here. As to Betty, he would give to the limits of his - great strength. - </p> - <p> - And so he answered Boatwright with a manner of calm confidence. - </p> - <p> - “Kang is putting up a fight, of course, but Pao will prove too strong for - him. At least, there's no good in believing anything else, Elmer. It's the - position we've got to take. I'll get into my walking clothes again.” - </p> - <p> - “You're not going to Hung Chan alone, to-night?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. It's the quickest way.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't you need sleep—a few hours, at least?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I was too late at So T'ung.” - </p> - <p> - “That was not your fault.” - </p> - <p> - “No. Still... I'll go right along.” Doane got up. - </p> - <p> - “If you could give me a few minutes more there's another matter. I'm - afraid you'll regard it as rather important. It's—difficult....” And - then, instead of continuing, he fell to rolling the pencil, and gazing at - it. His color rose a little. - </p> - <p> - There was a light knock at the door. Neither man responded. After a moment - the door opened a little way, and Mrs. Boatwright looked in. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!...” she exclaimed, then: “How do you do, Mr. Doane!... Elmer, have - you spoken of that matter?” - </p> - <p> - “I was just beginning to, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright, after a silence, came in and closed the door softly - behind her. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Doane hasn't much time.” Boatwright's voice was low, tremulous. - “Matters at So Thing are as bad as they could be. And he is going down to - Hung Chan now.” - </p> - <p> - “To-night?” asked the wife, rather sharply. - </p> - <p> - Doane inclined his head. - </p> - <p> - “Then what are we to do?” - </p> - <p> - “Mr Doane,” put in the husband, “has given instructions that we are to - stay here.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh—instructions?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Doane gravely. And he courteously explained: “The situation is - developing too rapidly for us to get all the others in to T'ainan. And we - can't desert them. Not yet. You will certainly be safer here than you - would be on the road. Hung Chan is only eighteen miles. I shall be back - within twenty-four hours, probably to-morrow evening. Then we will hold a - conference and decide finally on a course. We may be reduced to demanding - an escort to Ping Yang, telegraphing the others to save themselves as best - they can.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright soberly considered the problem. - </p> - <p> - “It looks like nineteen hundred all over again,” Boatwright muttered - huskily, without looking up. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Doane, “it won't be the same. The only thing we positively know - is that history never repeats itself. We'll take it as it comes.” He - didn't see Mrs. Boatwright's sharp eyes taking him in as he said this. - “I'll leave you now.” - </p> - <p> - “Just this other matter,” said the wife, more briskly. “I won't keep you - long. But I don't feel free to handle the situation in my own way, and—well, - something must be done.” - </p> - <p> - “You see,” said the husband, “there's a man here—a queer American—he - turned up—” - </p> - <p> - “Elmer!” the wife interrupted, “if you will let me.... It is a man your - daughter met on the ship coming out, Mr. Doane. Evidently a case of - infatuation....” - </p> - <p> - “He is a journalist—has written works on British administration in - India, I believe—” - </p> - <p> - “Elmer! Please! The fact is, the man has deliberately followed Betty out - here. There is some understanding between them—something that should - be got at. The man is married. Betty admits that—she seems to be - intimately in his confidence. He came rushing out here without so much as - a passport. Elmer has had to give up a good deal of time to setting him - right at Pao's yamen. I very properly refused to accept him here as a - guest, whereupon Hetty got word to him secretly and they have been meeting—” - </p> - <p> - “Out in the tennis court!” - </p> - <p> - “Last night I found them there myself. I sent him away, and brought Betty - in.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell it all, dear!” - </p> - <p> - “I will. Mr. Doane must know the facts. The man was kissing her. He - offered no apology. And Betty was defiant. She seemed then to fear the man - would not appear again, but in some way she found him this afternoon out - in the side street. They must have been there together for some time, - walking back and forth, talking earnestly. I had other things to do, of - course. I couldn't devote all my time to watching her. And it would seem, - if she had any normal sense of... I secured a promise then from Betty that - she would not meet him again until after your return. The man, however, - would promise nothing.” - </p> - <p> - On few occasions in her intensely busy life had Mrs. Boatwright been so - voluble. But she was excited and perhaps a little prurient; for to such - severe self-discipline as hers there are opposite and sometimes equal - reactions. - </p> - <p> - “Something must be done, and at once.” She appeared to be bringing her - speech to a conclusion. “The man impressed me as persistent and quite - shameless. He is unquestionably exerting a dangerous power over the girl. - Even in times like these, I am sure that you, as her father, will feel - that a strong effort must be made to save her. I needn't speak of the - whispers that are already loose about the compound.” - </p> - <p> - Through all this, Doane, his face wholly expressionless except for a - stunned look about the eyes and perhaps a sad settling about the mouth, - looked quietly from wife to husband and back again. They seemed utter - strangers, these two. With disconcerting abruptness he discovered that he - disliked them both.... Another thought that came was of the scene of - desolation he had left at So T'ung. After that, what mattered, what little - human thing! Then it occurred to his dazed mind that this wouldn't do. - Suddenly he could see Betty—her charm and grace, her bright pretty - ways, with his inner eye; and again his spirit was tom and tortured as all - during the night, back there in the hills. If only he could recall the - prayers that used to rise so easily and earnestly from his eager heart! - </p> - <p> - “Where is she now?” he asked, outwardly so calm as to stir resentment in - the woman before him. She replied, acidly: - </p> - <p> - “In her room. If she hasn't slipped out again.” - </p> - <p> - “She promised, I believe you said.” - </p> - <p> - This was uttered so quietly that a slow moment passed before it reached - home. Then Mrs. Boatwright replied, with less emphasis: - </p> - <p> - “Yes. She promised.” - </p> - <p> - “And where is the man?” - </p> - <p> - “At an inn, somewhere inside the walls. Sun would know.” - </p> - <p> - “What is his name?” - </p> - <p> - Boatwright fumbled among the papers on his desk, and found a card which he - passed over. - </p> - <p> - Doane looked thoughtfully at it, then slipped it into a pocket; said, - quiet, deathly sober, “You may look for me sometime to-morrow night. We - will make our final arrangements then. Meantime you had all better get - what rest you can.” Then he left the room. - </p> - <p> - Husband and wife looked at each other. The man's lids drooped first. He - began rolling the pencil. Finally he said, listlessly: - </p> - <p> - “Probably it would be wise to sort out these papers—get the letters - and reports straight. If we should go, there wouldn't be much time for - packing.” - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>oane went directly - to Betty's door, and knocked. She came at once, in her pretty kimono; - peeped out at him; cried softly: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Dad! You're safe!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, dear. I have one more trip, a short one. It will be all I can do. - To-morrow night I'll be back for good. Take care of yourself, little - girl.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—oh, yes! But I shall worry about you.” - </p> - <p> - “No. Never worry. I'll be back.” - </p> - <p> - That seemed to be all he could say. She, too, was still. The silence - lengthened, grew into a conscious thing in his mind anti hers. Finally he - took a hesitating backward step. - </p> - <p> - “I must be off, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Dad—wait!” She stood erect, her head drawn back, looking directly - at him out of curiously bright eyes. Her abundant hair flowed down about - her shoulders... But he thought of her eyes. They were frank, brave, and - very young and eager and bright. Somewhere within her slim little frame - she had a store of fine young courage; he knew it now, and felt a thrill - that was at once hope and pain. He had to fight back tears.... She was - going to tell him. Yes, she was plunging wonderfully into it: - </p> - <p> - “There's one thing, Dad! I'm sorry—I oughtn't to make you think of - other things now. But if we could only have a little talk....” - </p> - <p> - He managed to say: - </p> - <p> - “Only a day more, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. I suppose we should wait... though...” He stepped forward, drew her - to him, and in an uprush of exquisite tenderness kissed her forehead; - then, with an odd little sound that might almost have been a sob, he - rushed off, descended the stairs, and went out the front door. - </p> - <p> - From the window she saw his dim figure crossing the court. At the gate - house he paused and called aloud. - </p> - <p> - Two of the servants came; she could see their quaintly colored paper - lanterns bobbing about. One of them went into the gate house and came out - again. He was struggling with something. She strained her eyes against the - glass. Oh. yes—he was getting into his long coat; that was all. - Apparently he went out, this man, with her father.... The other colored - lantern bobbed back into the gate house, and the compound settled again - into calm. - </p> - <p> - Doane, though he could not talk with his daughter, could talk directly and - bluntly to the man named Brachey, who had rushed out here incontinent - after her He knew this; was alive with a slow swelling anger that came to - him as a perverse sort of blessing after the cumulative emotional torment - of the past three days. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII—THE PLEDGE - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N the morning of - that same day—while Griggsby Doane was striding down the mountain - road from So T'ung to T'ainan-fu—Jonathan Brachey sat in his room at - the inn trying to read, trying to write, counting the minutes until two - o'clock at which hour Betty would be waiting in the tennis court, when - John slipped in with a small white card bearing the printed legend, in - English: - </p> - <h3> - <i>MR. PO</i> - </h3> - <p> - <i>Interpreter and Secretary</i> - </p> - <p> - <i>Yamen of His Excellency the Provincial Judge T'ainan-fu</i> - </p> - <p> - Mr. Po proved to be a tall, slim, rather elegant young man in conventional - plain robe, black skull-cap and large spectacles, who met Brachey's stiff - greeting with a broad smile and a wholly Western grip of the hand. - </p> - <p> - “How d' do!” he said eagerly: “How d' do!” Then he glanced about at the - two worn old chairs, the crumbling walls of the sun-dried brick with their - soiled, ragged motto scrolls, the dirty matting on the <i>kang</i>, and - slowly shook his head. “You're not comfortable as all get-out.” - </p> - <p> - If there was in Mr. Po's speech a softness of intonation and a faint - difficulty with the <i>r's</i> and <i>l's</i>, the faults were not so - marked as to demand changes of spelling in setting it down. He accepted a - cigarette. Brachey lighted his pipe. - </p> - <p> - “You are quite at home in English,” remarked Brachey. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! English is my professional matter in hand.” - </p> - <p> - “You have lived abroad?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no! But at Tientsin Anglo-Chinese College, I made consumption largely - of midnight oil. And among English people society I have broken the ice.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey settled back in the angular chair; pulled at his pipe; thought. - The man was here for a purpose, of course. But from that slightly eager - manner, it seemed reasonable to infer that among his motives was a desire - to practise and exhibit his English, a curious mixture of book phrases and - coast slang, with here and there the Chinese sentence-structure showing - through. And he offered an opportunity to study the local problem that - Brachey mentally leaped at. - </p> - <p> - So these two fell into chat, the smiling young Chinese gentleman and the - austere Westerner. Mr. Po, speaking easily, without emphasis, his casual - manner suggesting that nothing mattered much—not old or new, life or - death—revealed, through the words he so lightly used, stirring - enthusiasms. And Brachey observed him through narrowed eyes. - </p> - <p> - Here, thought the journalist, before him, smoking a cigarette, sat modern - China; in robe and queue, speaking of the future but ridden by the past; - using strong words but with no fire, no urge or glow in the voice; as if - eager to hope without the substance of hope; at once age and youth, - smiling down the weary centuries at himself. - </p> - <p> - “It has been expressed to me that you are literature man.” Thus Mr. Po. - </p> - <p> - Brachey's head moved downward. - </p> - <p> - “That is quite wonderful. If you will tell me the names of certain of your - books I will give myself great delight in reading them. I read English - like the devil—all the time. I'm crazy about Emerson.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey led him on. They talked of Russia and England, of the new railways - in China, of truculent Japan, of Edison, much of Roosevelt. Mr. Po - suggested a walk; and they mounted the city wall, sat on the parapet and - talked on; the Chinaman always smiling, nerveless, his calm, easily - flowing voice without body or emphasis. Brachey finally succeeded in - guiding the man to his own topic, China. - </p> - <p> - “It puzzles and bewilders,” said Mr. Po. “China must leap like grasshopper - over the many centuries. To railways one may turn for beneficent - assistance. And also to missionaries.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm surprised to hear you say that. I supposed all China was opposed to - the missionaries.” - </p> - <p> - “I do not dwell at present time upon their religion practises. That may be - all to the good—I can not say. But the domicle of each and every - missionary may be termed civilization propaganda center. Here are found - books, medicines, lamps. Your eyes have discerned enveloping gloom of - Chinese cities by night. Think, I beg of you, what difference it will be - when illumination brightens all. Our people do not like these things, it - is true. They descend avidly into superstitions. They make a hell of a - fuss. But that fuss is growing pain. China must grow, though suffering - accumulate and dismay.” - </p> - <p> - “Come to think of it,” mused Brachey aloud, “superstition isn't stopping - the railroads.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Po snapped his fingers, smilingly. “A fig and thistle for - superstition!” he remarked. “Take good look at the railways! What - happened? In every field of China, as you know, stand grave mounds of - honorable ancestral worshiping. It will break heart of China to desecrate - those grave mounds. It will bring down untold misery upon ancestors. But - when they build Hankow-Peking Rahway, very slick speculator employed - observation upon surveyors and purchased up claims against railway for - bringing misery upon ancestors and sold them to railway company at - handsome profit to himself. And, sir, do you know what it set back company - to desecrate ancestors of China? It set back twelve dollars per ancestor. - And that slick speculator he is now millionaire. He erects imposing house - at Shanghai and elaborates dinners to white merchants. It is said that he - will soon be compradore and partner in most pretentious English Hong.... - No, the superstition will have to go. It will go like the chaff.” - </p> - <p> - “But this big change will take a little time.” - </p> - <p> - “Time? Oh, yes, of course! But what is time to China! A few centuries! - They are nothing!” - </p> - <p> - “A few centuries are something to me,” observed Brachey dryly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! And to me. That is different. There are times to come of running - to and fro and hubbub. It is not easy to adjust.” - </p> - <p> - “It is not,” said Brachey. - </p> - <p> - “For myself, I would like to get away. I have observed with too great - width customs of white peoples, I have perused with too diligent attention - many English books as well as those of French and German authorship, to - find contentment in Chinese habit ways. I would appreciate to voyage - freely to America. If I might ask, is not there an exception made under - so-called Chinese Exclusion Act in instance of attentive student and - gentleman who finds himself by no means dependent upon finance - arrangements of certain others?” - </p> - <p> - “I really don't know,” said Brachey. “You'd have to talk with somebody up - at the legation about that.” - </p> - <p> - “But up at legation somebodies make always assumption never to know a darn - thing about anything.” Mr Po laughed easily. - </p> - <p> - “I have employed great thought concerning this topic,” he went on, with - mounting assurance. “It is here and now time of beginning upset in Hansi, - as perhaps as well in all China. At topmost pinnacle of Old Order here - stands Kang, the treasurer. It can not, indeed, be said that for ennobling - ideas of New Order he cares much of a damn. And he is miserably jealous of - His Excellency, Pao Ting Chuan. But Pao is very strong. Sooner or later he - will pin upon Kang defeat humiliation.” - </p> - <p> - “You feel sure Pao will be able to do that?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! Pao is cat, Kang is mouse.” - </p> - <p> - “Hmm!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes indeed! But it is nothing to me. Nothing in world! I have laid before - His Excellency desires of my heart. He expresses willing courtesy. If I - may make voyage freely he will make best of it. And not unlike myself he - has perceived half-notion that if I turn to you for wisdom advice you will - not turn cold shoulder and throw me down.” Catching the opposition behind - Brachey's slightly knit brows, he added hastily, “I have no need. That is - to say, I'm not broke. And—with this thought plan I have made - transferrence of certain monies to Hongkong Bank at Shanghai where no - revolution or hell of a row can snatch it from my outstretched hands. With - but a nod from your head, sir, and also with permission of His Excellency, - I could make sneak out of province as your servant.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey, after some thought, said he would take the proposal under - consideration. - </p> - <p> - During the walk back to the inn he contrived to hold the interpreter's - chatter closely to the ferment in the province. - </p> - <p> - Kang, it appeared, was openly backing the Lookers now. His yamen enclosure - swarmed with ragged soldiers from the West who foraged among the shops for - food and trinkets, and beat or shot the inoffensive Chinese merchants by - way of emphasizing rather casually their privileged status in the capital - city. Down the river, near Hung Chan, a more considerable concentration of - the strange troops was taking place. Hung Chan was also the rendezvous for - the local young men who had been initiated into the Looker bands. Rumors - were flying of a general massacre to come of the white and secondary (or - native) Christians. There was even talk of a political alliance with the - organizers of rebellion in the South against the Imperial Manchu - Government and of a triumphant march to the coast. A phrase that might be - translated as “China for the Chinese” had come into circulation. - </p> - <p> - Brachey grew more and more thoughtful as he listened. - </p> - <p> - “If Pao is so strong, why does he permit matters to go so far?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Po laughed. “His Excellency will in his own good time get move on - himself.” - </p> - <p> - “Hmm!” - </p> - <p> - “Only yesterday I myself was pinched on street by Western soldiers.” - </p> - <p> - “Pinched?” - </p> - <p> - “Seized and arrested. Taken up.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey raised his eyebrows; but Mr Po smiled easily on. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! They called me secondary Christian. They ran me in before low - woman, a courtesan. They have told Kang that this courtesan is - second-sighted.” - </p> - <p> - “Clairvoyant?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that is now firm belief of Kang on mere say-so of cheap skates. This - courtesan has been conveyed to treasurer's yamen where with eunuchs and - concubines to attend and soldiers to stand sentry-go she now holds forth - to beat the Dutch. All perfectly absurd!” - </p> - <p> - “And this creature sat in judgment over you?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! Not a day since.” - </p> - <p> - “What was her decision?” - </p> - <p> - Again that easy laugh. “Oh, she decree that I am to kick bucket.” - </p> - <p> - “Execute you, eh? You take it lightly.” - </p> - <p> - “It is nothing. I will tell you. In companionship with me was my bosom - friend, Chili T'ang, who is third son of well-known censor of Peking, - Chili Chang Pu. It was Chih who got hustle on to yamen of His Excellency—” - </p> - <p> - “By His Excellency you mean Pao?” - </p> - <p> - “In every instance, if you please! Well, like a shot His Excellency acted - in my behalf. In person and with full retinue grandeur panoply he set - forth to pay visit to old rascal Kang, carrying as gift of utmost personal - esteem ancient ring for thumb of jade that Kang had long made goo-goo eyes - at. And he asked of Kang as favor mark to himself that he be let known - instanter, right away, if any of soldiers from his yamen should behave - with unpleasantness toward new soldiers of Kang, for new soldiers of Kang - had come to T'ainan-fu out of far country and not unnaturally felt - homesick and were not in each instance in step with customs of our city. - And he made explanation as well that he would instruct his secretary, Po - Sui-an, to bring news quicker than Johnny get your gun if his own soldiers - should act up freshly or become stench in the nostrils.... Well, you see, - sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Not quite.” - </p> - <p> - “But I am Po Sui-an! It was rebuke like ton of brick, falling on all but - face of old Kang. It has been insisted to me that Kang trembled like - swaying aspen reed as he made high sign to attendant mandarins. And then - His Excellency set forth that I had just stepped out on brief journey but - would shortly be back and that he would then instruct me with determined - vigor.... Such is His Excellency, a statesman of stiff upper lip. A most - wise guy! Thus he served notice on that old reprobate that he will strike - when iron is hot.” - </p> - <p> - “They released you?” - </p> - <p> - “At once. On return of His Excellency, to his yamen. There was I, slick as - whistle!”, - </p> - <p> - “Very interesting. But if Kang continues to bring in soldiers from the - West, how is Pao going to strike with any hope of success? Is he, too, - marshaling an army?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no! But you see, I come to call upon you, with you I walk freely - about streets. At Kang I thumb my nose and tell him go chase himself. Pao - will protect myself and you.” - </p> - <p> - “But as I understand it, Kang officially ranks Pao.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! But that is nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “It looks like a little something to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no! I will ask you for brief moment to glance sidelong at Forbidden - City of Peking. There during long devil of a while Eastern Empress - officially ranked Western Empress, but I would call your attention to - insignificant matter that it was not Western Empress—she whom you - dub Empress Dowager—that turned up her toes most opportunely to - daisies.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I see! Then it is believed that the Empress Dowager had the Eastern - Empress killed?” - </p> - <p> - “You could not ask that she neglect wholly her fences.”. - </p> - <p> - “No.... no, I suppose you couldn't ask that.” - </p> - <p> - “She is great woman. She will not permit that another person put her on - the blink. It is so with His Excellency. A dam' big man! We shall see!”... - He hesitated, smiling a thought more eagerly than before. They had reached - the gate of the inn compound. His quick eye had caught increasing signs of - preoccupation in Brachey's manner. Finally, laughing again, he said: - </p> - <p> - “'There is one other little bagatelle. An utter absurdity! I have made - preparation for lecture in English about China. Name of it is 'Pigtail and - Chop-stick.' When I read it at college I must say they held sides and - shook like jelly bowl. On that occasion it was made plain to me by men of - thought that it is peach of a lecture. It's a scream.” His laugh indicated - now an apologetic self-consciousness. “It was said that in America my - lecture would be knockout, that Chinaman treading with humor the lyceum - would make novelty excitement. Indeed, by gentleman of Customs - Administration this was handed me....” He fumbled inside his gown, finally - producing a frayed bit of ruled paper, evidently torn from a pocket - note-book, on which was written in pencil: “Try the J. B. Pond Lyceum - Bureau, New York City.” - </p> - <p> - “Since it was expressed to me,” he hurried to add, “that American - journalist notability was in our midst, I have amused myself with fool - thought that you would run eyes over it and let me have worst of it.” - </p> - <p> - “It would be a pleasure,” said Brachey, civilly enough but with - considerable dismissive force, extending his hand. - </p> - <p> - So, Mr. Po, smiling but something crestfallen, sauntered away. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t ten o'clock that - night Brachey sat in the angular chair, his <i>Bible in Spain</i> lying - open on his knees, his weary face deeply shadowed and yellow-gray in the - flickering light of the native lamp on the table beside him. - </p> - <p> - John tapped at the door; came softly in; stood, holding the door to behind - him. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” cried Brachey irritably. “Well?” - </p> - <p> - “Man wanchee see you. Can do?” - </p> - <p> - “Man?... What man?” - </p> - <p> - “No savvy.” - </p> - <p> - “China man?” - </p> - <p> - “No China man. White man. Too big.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey sprang up; dropped his book on the table with a bang; brushed John - aside and opened the door. The only light out there came slanting down - from a brilliant moon. Dimly outlined as shadowy masses were the now - familiar objects of the inn courtyard—the row of pack-saddles over - by the stable, the darkly moving heads of the horses ami mules behind the - long manger, the two millstones on their rough standard; above these the - roofs of curving tile and a glimpse of young foliage. Then, after a - moment, he sensed movement and peered across, beyond the stable, toward - the street gates. A man was approaching; a huge figure of a man, six feet - five or six inches in height, broad of shoulder, firm of tread; stood now - before him. He carried something like a soldier's pack on his back. - </p> - <p> - “Why did you come here?” - </p> - <p> - Brachey on the door-step found his eyes level with those of his caller. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Brachcy?” The voice had the ring of power in it. Brachey's nerves - tightened. - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “I am Mr. Doane.” - </p> - <p> - “Will you please come in?” - </p> - <p> - John slipped away. Doane entered; moved to the table; turned. Brachey - closed the door and faced him. - </p> - <p> - “You will perhaps wish to take off your pack,” he said, with bare - civility. - </p> - <p> - Doane disposed of this remark with a jerk of his head. “I have very little - time to waste on you,” he said bruskly. “What are you doing in T'ainan? - Why did you come here?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0231.jpg" alt="0231 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0231.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - There was a long silence. - </p> - <p> - “Very well, if you won't answer.”... Doane's voice rasped. - </p> - <p> - Brachey raised his hand. “I was considering your question,” he broke in - coldly. “While it is not the whole truth, it will probably save time to - say that I came to see your daughter.” - </p> - <p> - He would have liked to express in his voice some thing of the desperate - tenderness that he felt. The experiences of the preceding evening and of - the afternoon just past—the glimpses he had had into the heart of a - girl, his little storms of anger against Mrs. Boatwright and all her kind, - followed in each instance by other little storms of anger against himself—had - finally swept him from the last rational mooring place out into the - bottomless, boundless sea of emotion. He had found himself, already - to-night, a storm-tossed soul without compass or bearings or rudder. He - burned to see Betty again. It had taken all that was left of his will to - keep from charging out once more across the city, out through the wall, to - the mission compound. He was shaken, humbled, frightened. To such a nature - as Brachey's—stubbornly aloof from human contacts, sensitively - self-sufficient—this was really a terrible experience. It was the - worst storm of his life. He felt—had felt at times during the - evening, as he tried to brace himself for this scene that he knew had to - come within the twenty-four hours—something near tenderness for the - man who was Betty's father. There were even moments when he looked forward - to the meeting with the hope that through the father's feelings he might - be helped in finding his lost self. - </p> - <p> - He had tried, sitting among the shadows, to build up a picture of the man. - Several of these he had constructed, to meet each of which he felt he - could hold himself in a mental attitude of frankness and even sympathy. - But each of these pictures was but an elaboration of familiar missionary - types. All were what he considered—or once had considered—weak, - or over-earnest to the borders of fanaticism, or cautious little men, or - narrow formalists... men like Boatwright And without realizing, it, too, - he had counted on either real or counterfeited Christian forbearance. The - only thing he had feared might come up to disturb him was intolerance, - like that of Boatwright's wife. - </p> - <p> - With that, of course, you couldn't reason, couldn't talk at all.... What - he really wanted to do, burned to do, was to tell the exact truth. He had - passed the point where he could give Betty up; he would have to fight for - her now, whatever happened. His one great fear had been that Betty's - father would be incapable of entertaining the truth dispassionately, - fairly. - </p> - <p> - But the actual Doane cleared his over-charged brain as a mountain storm - will clear murky air. Here was a giant of a man who meant business. Back - of that strong face, back of the deep voice, Brachey felt a pressure of - anger. It was not Christian forbearance; it was vigor and something more; - something that perhaps, probably, would come out before they were through - with each other. There was a restless power in the man, a wild animal - pacing there behind the slightly clouded eyes. Even in the blinding fire - of his own love for Betty he could look out momentarily and see or feel - that this giant was burning too. And what he saw or felt, turned his heart - to ice and his brain to tempered metal. Sympathy would have reached - Brachey this night; weakness, blundering, might have reached him. But now, - of all occasions, he would not be intimidated.. .. He felt the change - coming over him, dreaded it, even resisted it; but was powerless to check - it. The man proposed to beat him down. No one had ever yet done that to - Jonathan Brachey. And so, though he tried to speak with simple frankness - in saying, “I came to see your daughter,” the words came out coldly, - tinged with defiance, between set lips. - </p> - <p> - It might easily mean a fight of some sort, Brachey reflected. This - mountain of a man could crush him, of course. Primitive emotion charged - the air as each deliberately stud'ed the other.... It would hardly matter - if he should be crushed. There were no police in T'airan to protect white - men from each other. His wife would be relieved; a queer, bitter sob rose - part way in his throat at the thought. There was no one else... save - Betty. Betty would care! And this man was her father! It was terrible.... - He was struggling now to attain a humility his austere life had never - known; if only he could trample down his savage pride, hear the man out, - swallow every insult! But in this struggle, at first, he failed. Like a - soldier he faced the huge fighting man with a pack on his back. - </p> - <p> - “You knew my daughter on the steamer?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Before that—in America?” - </p> - <p> - “No.” - </p> - <p> - “There is something between you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “You are a married man?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - Doane, his face working a very little, his arms stiff and straight at his - sides, came a step nearer. Brachey lifted his chin and stared up the more - directly at him. “You seem to have a little honesty, at least.” - </p> - <p> - “I am honest.” - </p> - <p> - “How far has this gone?” - </p> - <p> - Brachey was silent. - </p> - <p> - Doane took another step. - </p> - <p> - “Why don't I kill you?” he breathed. - </p> - <p> - It was then that Brachey first caught the full force of Doane's emotional - torment. To say that he did not flinch, inwardly, would be untrue; but all - that Doane saw was a slight hesitation before the cold reply came: “I can - not answer that question.” - </p> - <p> - “You can answer the other. How far has this gone?” - </p> - <p> - Brachey again clamped his lips shut. The situation, to him, had become - inexplicable. - </p> - <p> - “Will you answer?” - </p> - <p> - “No.” - </p> - <p> - Doane's eyes blazed down wildly. And Doane's voice broke through the - restraint he had put upon it as he cried: - </p> - <p> - “Have you harmed my little girl?” - </p> - <p> - Brachey was still. - </p> - <p> - “Answer me!” Doane's great hand came down on his shoulder. “Have you - harmed her?” - </p> - <p> - Brachey's body trembled under that hand; he was fighting himself, fighting - the impulse to strike with his fists, to seize the lamp, a chair, his - walking stick; he held his breath; he could have tossed a coin for his - life; but then, wandering like a little lost breeze among his bitter - thoughts, came a beginning perception of the anguish in this father's - heart. It confused him, softened him. His own voice was unsteady as he - replied: “Not in the sense you mean.” - </p> - <p> - “In what sense, then?” - </p> - <p> - Brachey broke away. Doane moved heavily after him, but stopped short when - the slighter man dropped wearily into a chair. - </p> - <p> - “I'm not going to attack you,” said Brachey, “but for God's sake sit - down!” - </p> - <p> - “What did you mean by that?” - </p> - <p> - “Simply this.” Brachey's head dropped on his hand; he stared at the floor - of rough tiles. “I love her. She knows it. She even seems to return it. I - have roused deep feelings in her. Perhaps in doing that I have harmed her. - I can't say.” - </p> - <p> - “Is that all? You are telling me everything?” - </p> - <p> - “Everything.” - </p> - <p> - Doane walked across the room; came back; looked down at Brachey. - </p> - <p> - “You know how such men as you are regarded, of course?” - </p> - <p> - “No.... Oh, perhaps!” - </p> - <p> - “You will leave T'ainan, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “Well...” - </p> - <p> - “There is no question about that. You will leave.” - </p> - <p> - “There's one question—a man dislikes to leave the woman he loves in - actual danger.” - </p> - <p> - An expression of bewilderment passed across Duane's face. - </p> - <p> - “You admit that you are married?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes!” - </p> - <p> - “Yet you speak as my daughter's lover. Does the fact of your marriage mean - nothing to you?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing whatever.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you are planning to fall back on the divorce court, perhaps?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” Brachey's head came up then. “Does love mean nothing to you?” he - cried. “In your narrow, hard missionary heart is there no sympathy for the - emotions that seize on a man and a woman and break their wills and shake - them into submission?” - </p> - <p> - Looking up, he saw the color surge into Doane's face. Anger rose there - again. The man seemed desperate, bitter. There was no way, apparently, to - handle him; he was a new sort. - </p> - <p> - Doane crossed the room again; came back to the middle. He seemed to be - biting his lip. - </p> - <p> - “I'll have no more words from you,” he suddenly cried out. “You'll go in - the morning! I'll have to take your word that you won't communicate with - Betty.” - </p> - <p> - “But, my God, I can't just save myself—” - </p> - <p> - “It may not be so safe for you or any of us. Will you go?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh... yes!” - </p> - <p> - “You will not try to see Betty?” - </p> - <p> - “Not to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - “Nor after.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey sprang up; leaned against the table; pushed the lamp away. - </p> - <p> - “How do I know what I shall do?” - </p> - <p> - “I know.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you do!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. You will do as I say. You are never to communicate with her again.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey thought. “I'll say this: I'll undertake not to. If I can't endure - it, I'll tell you first.” - </p> - <p> - “You can endure it.” - </p> - <p> - “But you don't understand! It's a terrible thing! Do you think I wanted to - come out here? I meant not to. But I couldn't stand it. I came. Is it - nothing that I told her of my marriage with the deliberate purpose of - frightening her away? But she is afraid of nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “No—she is not afraid.” - </p> - <p> - “I tell you, I've been torn all to pieces. Good God, if I hadn't been, and - if you weren't her father, do you think I'd have stood here to-night and - let you say these things to me! Oh, you would beat me; likely enough you'd - kill me; but that's nothing. That would be easy—except for Betty.” - </p> - <p> - “I have no time for heroics,” said Doane. “Have I your promise that you - will leave in the morning, without a word to her?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “I am going to Hung Chan. There are more important issues now than your - life or mine. I shall be back to-morrow night and shall know then if you - have failed to keep your word.” - </p> - <p> - “I shan't fail.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well! A word more. You are not to stop at Ping Yang on your way - cut.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh?” - </p> - <p> - “For a night only. Then go on. Go out of the province. Go back to the - coast. Is that understood?” - </p> - <p> - Brachey inclined his head. - </p> - <p> - “I have your promise?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well. Good night, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Good night.” - </p> - <p> - Doane turned to the door. But then he hesitated, turned, hesitated again, - finally came straight over and thrust out his hand. - </p> - <p> - Brachey, to his own amazement, took it. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV—DILEMMA - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN DOANE had gone - Brachey called John and ordered a mule litter for eight n the morning. - John found ont of the soldiers among the lounging group by the gate. The - soldier slipped out. - </p> - <p> - Brachey busied himself until midnight in packing his bags. He felt that he - couldn't sleep; most of the later night was spent in alternately walking - the floor and trying to read. Before dawn the lamp burned out; and he lay - down in his clothes and for a few hours dreamed wildly. - </p> - <p> - At eight the spike-studded gates swung open and an Oriental cavalcade - filed into the court. There was the litter, like a sedan chair but much - larger, swung on poles between two mules; the sides covered with red - cloth, the small swinging doors in blue; bells jingling about the necks of - the mules. There were five or six other mules and asses, each hearing a - wooden pack-saddle. There was a shaggy Manchurian pony for Brachey to ride - in clear weather. Three muleteers, two men and a boy, marched beside the - animals; hardy ragged fellows, already, or perhaps always, caked with - dirt. - </p> - <p> - At once the usual confusion and noise began. Men of the inn crowded about - to help pack the boxes and bags of food and water and clothing on the - saddles. The mules plunged and kicked. A rope broke and had to be - elaborately repaired. The four soldiers brought out their white ponies, - saddled them, slung their carbines over their shoulders; they were - handsome men, not so ragged, in faded blue uniforms of baggy Chinese cut, - blue half-leggings, blue turbans. Into the litter went Brachey's mattress - and pillow. He tossed in after them camera, note-book, and <i>The Bible in - Spain;</i> then mounted his savage little pony, which for a moment plunged - about among the pack animals, starting the confusion anew. - </p> - <p> - The cook mounted one of the pack-saddles, perching himself high on a bale, - his feet on the neck of the mule. John was about to mount another, when - the leading soldier handed him a letter which he brought at once to his - master. - </p> - <p> - Brachey with bounding pulse looked at the envelope. But the address, - “Mister J. Brachey, Esquire,” was not in Betty's brisk little hand. - </p> - <p> - He tore it open, and read as follows: - </p> - <p> - “My Dear Sir—Taking Time touch and go by the forelock it becomes - privileged duty to advise you to wit: - </p> - <p> - “So-called Lookers and Western soldiers of that ilk have attacked mission - college Hung Chan with crop up outcome that these unpleasant fellow's go - the limit in violence. By telegraph officer of devotion to His Excellency - this morning very early passes the tip that that mission college stands - longer not a whit upon earth. - </p> - <p> - “Looker soldiers acting under thumb of man mentioned during our little - chin-chin of yesterday forenoon plan within twenty-four hours advance on - T'ain-an-fu cutting off city from Eastern access and then resting on oars, - jolly well taking their time to destroy mission here and secondary - Christians, making clean job of it. - </p> - <p> - “Officer of devotion reports further of old reprobate plan that larger - army has become nearly ready to march full tilt and devil take the - hindmost on Ping Yang engineer compound fort and lay axe to root of it. - Railroad and bridges and all works of white hands will go way of wrack and - ruin except telegraph, that being offspring of Imperial Government. - </p> - <p> - “And now, my dear sir, as Ping Yang is place of some strength and come on - if you dare, I would respectfully recommend that you engage at once in - forlorn hope and make journey post haste to Ping Yang, as we sit on kegs - of gun powder with ground slipping out from under us as hour-glass runs. - </p> - <p> - “Regretting in great heaviness and sadness of heart that civilization sees - no longer light of day in Hansi Province, I beg to remain, my Dear Sir, - </p> - <p> - “Yours most respectfully, - </p> - <p> - “Po Sui-an. - </p> - <p> - “P. S. In my busy as bee excitement I have neglected to kill two birds - with one stone, and inform you that Rev. Doane of this city met death - bravely at 3 a.m. to-day at Hung Chan Northern Gate. - </p> - <p> - “Po.” - </p> - <p> - The cavalcade was ready now in line. At the head two soldiers sat their - ponies. The gay litter came next, bells jingling as the mules stirred. - Behind the litter stood the pack animals, with John and the cook mounted - precariously on the first two. The other two soldiers brought up the rear. - The muleteers stood lazily by, waiting.... Brachey slipped Mr. Po's letter - into a pocket and gazed up at the smoke that curled lazily from the - chimney of the innkeeper's house. The pony, restless to be off, plunged a - little; Brachey quieted him without so much as looking down.... After a - brief time he lowered his eyes. A little girl with normal feet was - trudging round and round the millstones, laboriously grinding out a double - handful of flour; a skinny old woman, in trousers, her feet mere stumps, - hobbled across the court with a stew pan, not so much as looking up at the - caravan or at the haughty white stranger; ragged men moved about among the - animals behind the manger. The huge gates had been swung open by coolies, - who stood against them; outside was the narrow, deep-rutted roadway, with - shops beyond.... Finally, brows knit as if he were at once hurt and - puzzled, face white, Brachey took in the caravan—the calmly waiting - soldiers, the muleteers, the grotesquely mounted cook and interpreter, the - large, boxlike vehicle suspended in its richly dingy colors between two - mules—and then, with tightly compressed lips and a settling frown, - he rode out into the street ahead of the soldiers. - </p> - <p> - With a lively jingle of bells and creakings from the litter as it swayed - into motion, the others followed. One of the soldiers promptly came up - alongside Brachey; their two ponies nearly filled the street, crowding - passers-by into doorways. - </p> - <p> - Brachey led the way out through the Northern Gate to the mission compound. - Here he dismounted, handed his reins to a muleteer, and entered the gate - house. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0247.jpg" alt="0247 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0247.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ld Sun Shao-i - hurried from his chair and barred the inner door. Regarding this white man - he had orders from Mrs. Boatwright. Brachey, however, brushed him - carelessly aside and went on into the court. - </p> - <p> - It was the sort of thing, this walking coolly in, where he was not wanted, - that he did well. He really cared nothing what they thought. He distrusted - profoundly Mrs. Boatwright's judgment, and did not even consider sending - in his name or a note. The hour had come for meeting her face to fare and - by force of will defeating her. There was no time now for indulgence in - personal eccentricities on the part of any of these few white persons set - off in a vast, threatening world of yellow folk. - </p> - <p> - Within the spacious courtyard the sunlight lay in glowing patches on the - red tile. Through open windows came the fresh school-room voices of girls. - At the steps of a small building at his right stood or lounged a group of - Chinese men and old women and children—Brachey had learned that only - by occasional chance is a personable young or even middle-aged. - </p> - <p> - He led the way out through the northern gate aged woman visible to - masculine eyes in China—each apparently with some ailment; one man - had eczema; one boy a goitre that puffed out upon his breast, others with - traces of the diseases that rage over China unchecked except to a tiny - degree here and there in the immediate neighborhood of a medical - mission.... It was a scene of peace and apparent security. The mission - organization was functioning normally. Clearly they hadn't the news. - </p> - <p> - A thin thoughtful woman came out of a school building, and confronted him. - </p> - <p> - “I am Mr. Brachey,” said he coldly; “Jonathan Brachey.” - </p> - <p> - The woman drew herself up stiffly. - </p> - <p> - “What can I do for you, sir?” - </p> - <p> - She was stern; hostile.... How little it mattered! - </p> - <p> - “I must see you all together, at once,” he said in the same coldly direct - manner—“Mr. and Mrs. Boatwright, if you please, and any others.” - </p> - <p> - “Can't you say what you have to say to me now? I am Miss Hemphill, the - head teacher.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” he replied, not a muscle of his face relaxing. “May I ask why not?” - </p> - <p> - “It is not a matter of individual judgment.” - </p> - <p> - “But Mrs. Boatwright will refuse to see you.” - </p> - <p> - “I am sony, but Mrs. Boatwright will have to see me and at once. And not - alone, if you please. I don't care to allow her to dismiss what I have to - say without consideration.” - </p> - <p> - Miss Hemphill considered; finally went up into the dispensary, past the - waiting unfortunates on the steps. Brachev stood erect, motionless, like a - military man. After a moment, Miss Hemphill came out, followed by another - woman. - </p> - <p> - “This is Dr. Cassin,” she said; adding with a slight hesitation as if she - found the word unpalatable—“Mr. Brachey.” - </p> - <p> - The physician at once took the matter in hand. - </p> - <p> - “You will please tell us what you have to say, Mr. Brachey. It will be - better not to trouble Mrs. Boatwright.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey made no reply to this speech; merely stood as if thinking the - matter over. Then his eye caught' a glimpse of something pink and white - that fluttered past an up-stairs window. Then, still without a word, he - went on to the residence, mounted the steps and rang the bell. - </p> - <p> - The two women promptly followed. - </p> - <p> - “You will please not enter this house,” said Dr. Cassin severely. - </p> - <p> - A Chinese servant opened the door. - </p> - <p> - “I wish to see Mr. and Mrs. Boatwright at once,” said Brachey; then, as - the servant was about to close the door, stepped within. - </p> - <p> - The two women pressed in after him. - </p> - <p> - “You are acting in a very high-handed manner,” remarked Dr. Cassin with - heat—“an insolent manner.” - </p> - <p> - “I regret that it is necessary.” - </p> - <p> - “It is <i>not</i> necessary!” This from Miss Hemphill. - </p> - <p> - He merely looked at her, then away; stood waiting. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright appeared in a doorway. - </p> - <p> - “What does this mean?” was all she seemed able to say at the moment. - </p> - <p> - “Will you kindly send for the others”—thus Brachey—“Mr. - Boatwright, any other whites who may be here, and—Miss Doane.” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly not.” - </p> - <p> - “It is necessary.” - </p> - <p> - “It is not. Why are you here?” - </p> - <p> - “It is not a matter for you to decide. I must have everybody present.” - </p> - <p> - There was a rustle from the stairs. Betty, very pale, her slim young - person clad in a lacy négligée gown of Japanese workmanship, very quick - and light and nervously alert, came down. - </p> - <p> - “Will you please go back to your room?” cried Mrs. Boatwright. - </p> - <p> - But the girl, coming on as far as the newel post, stopped there and - replied, regretfully, even gently, but firmly: - </p> - <p> - “No, Mrs. Boatwright.” - </p> - <p> - “Will you at least do us the courtesy to dress yourself properly?” - </p> - <p> - This, Betty, her eyes straining anxiously toward Brachey, ignored. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>r. Casein then - abruptly, speaking in Chinese, sent the servant for Mr. Boatwright, and - deliberately led the way into the front room. The others followed, without - a word, and stood about silently until the appearance of Mr. Boatwright, - who came in rather breathless, mopping his small features. - </p> - <p> - “How do you do?” he said to Brachey; and for an instant seemed to be - considering extending his hand; but after a brief survey of the grimly - silent figures in the room, catching the general depression in the social - atmosphere, he let the hand fall by his side. - </p> - <p> - “Now, Mr. Braehey,” remarked Dr. Cassin, with an air of professional - briskness, “every one is present. We are ready for the business that - brought you here.” Brachey looked about the room; his eyes rested longest - on the physician. To her he handed the letter, saying simply: - </p> - <p> - “This was written within the hour, by Po Sui-an, secretary to His - Excellency Pao Ting Chuan. Will you please read it aloud, Dr. Cassin?” - </p> - <p> - Then, as if through with the others, he went straight over to Betty, who - stood by the windows. Quickly and softly he said: - </p> - <p> - “Brace up, little girl! It is bad news.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” she breathed, “is it—is it—father?” - </p> - <p> - He bowed. She saw his tightened lips and the shine in his eyes; then she - wavered, fought for breath, caught at his hand. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright was calling out, apparently to Betty, something about - taking a chair on the farther side of the room. There was a stir of - confusion; but above it Brachey's voice rose sharply: - </p> - <p> - “Read, please, Dr. Cassin!” - </p> - <p> - Soberly they listened. After beginning the postscript, Dr. Cassin stopped - short; then, slowly, with considerable effort, read the announcement of - Griggsby Duane's death. - </p> - <p> - Then the room was still. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright was the first to speak; gently for her, and unsteadily, - though the strong will that never failed this vigorous woman carried her - along without a sign of hesitation. - </p> - <p> - “Mary,” she said, addressing Miss Hemphill, “you had better go up-stairs - with Betty.” - </p> - <p> - Dr. Cassin, ignoring this, or perhaps only half-hearing it (her eyes were - brimming) broke in with: - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Brachey, you must have come here with some definite plan or purpose. - Will you please tell us what it is?” - </p> - <p> - “No!” cried Mrs. Boatwright—“no! If you please, Mary, this man must - not stay here. Betty!... Betty, dear!” - </p> - <p> - Betty did not even turn. She was staring out the window into the peaceful - sunflecked courtyard, the tears running unheeded down her cheeks, her hand - twisted tightly in Brachey's. He spoke now, in the cold voice, very stiff - and constrained, that masked his feelings. - </p> - <p> - “The death of Mr. Doane makes it clear that there is no safety here. There - is a chance, to-day, for us all to get safely away. I have, at the gate, a - litter and one riding horse, also a few pack animals. Most of my goods can - be thrown aside—clothing, all that. The food I have, used sparingly, - would serve for a number of us. We should be able to pick up a few carts. - I suggest that we do so at once, and that we get away within an hour, if - possible. We must keep together, of course. I suggest further, that any - differences between us be set aside for the present.” - </p> - <p> - They looked at one another. Miss Hemphill pursed her lips and knit her - brows, as if unable to think with the speed required. Dr. Cassin, sad of - face, soberly thinking, moved absently over to the silent girl by the - window; gently put an arm about her shoulders. Mr. Boatwright, sunk deeply - in his chair, was pulling with limp aimless fingers at the fringe on the - chair-arm; once he glanced up at his wife. - </p> - <p> - “This may not be true,” said Mrs. Boatwright abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “It is from Pao's yamen,” said Miss Hemphill. - </p> - <p> - “But it may be no more than a rumor. Our first duty is to telegraph Mrs. - Nacy at Hung Chan and ask for full particulars.” - </p> - <p> - “Is”—this was Mr. Boatwright; he cleared his throat—“is there - time?” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright's mouth had clamped shut. No one had ever succeeded in - stampeding or even hurrying her mind. She had, for the moment, dismissed - the special problem of Betty and this man Brachey from that mind and was - considering the general problem. That settled, she would again take up the - Brachey matter. - </p> - <p> - “There is time,” she said, after a moment. “There must be. Mr. Doane left - positive instructions that we were to await his return. He will be here - to-night or to-morrow morning, if he is alive.” - </p> - <p> - “But—my dear”—it was her husband again—“Po is careful to - explain that by to-morrow escape will be cut off.” - </p> - <p> - “That,” replied his wife, still intently thinking, “is only a rumor, after - all. China is always full of rumors. Even if it is true, these soldiers - are not likely to act so promptly, whatever Po may think. If they should, - we shall be no safer on the highway than here in our own compound.... And - how about our natives? How about our girls—all of them? Shall we - leave them?... No!” She was thinking, tanking. “No, I shall not go. I am - going to stay here. I shall keep my word to Mr. Doane.” - </p> - <p> - Then she rose and approached the little group by the window. Her eyes, - resting on the firmly clasped hands of the lovers, snapped fire. Her face, - again, was granite. To Dr. Cassiri, very quietly, she remarked, “Take - Betty up-stairs, please.” - </p> - <p> - The physician, obeying, made a gentle effort to draw the girl away; but - met with no success. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright addressed herself to Brachey: “Will you please leave this - compound at once!” - </p> - <p> - He said nothing. Betty's fingers were twisting within his. - </p> - <p> - “I can hardly make use of force,” continued Mrs. Boatwright, “but I ask - you to leave us. And we do not wish to see you again.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey drew in a slow long breath: looked about the room, from one to - another. Miss Hemphill and Boatwright had risen; both were watching him; - the little man seemed to have found his courage, for his chin was up now. - </p> - <p> - And Brachey felt, knew, that they were a unit against him. The - fellow-feeling, the community of faith and habit that had drawn them - together through long, lonely years of service, was stronger now than any - mere threat of danger, even of death. They felt with the indomitable woman - who had grown into the leadership, and would stay with her. - </p> - <p> - Brachey surveyed them. These were the missionaries he had despised as - weak, narrow little souls. Narrow they might be, but hardly weak. No, not - weak. Even this curious little Boatwright; something that looked like - strength had come to life in him. He wouldn't desert. He would stay. To - certain and horrible death, apparently. The very certainty of the danger - seemed to be clearing that wavering little mind of his. A thought that - made it all the more puzzling was that these people knew, so much better, - so much more deeply, than he, all that had happened in 1900. Their own - friends and pupils—white and yellow—had been slaughtered. The - heart-breaking task of reconstruction had been theirs. - </p> - <p> - And at the same time, seeming like a thought-strand in his brain, was the - heart-breaking pressure of that soft, honest little hand in his.... Very - likely it was the end for all of them. - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” he said icily. “I am sorry I can't be of use. However, if any - of you care to go I shall esteem it a privilege to share my caravan with - you.” - </p> - <p> - No one spoke, or moved. The iron face of Mrs. Boatwright confronted his. - </p> - <p> - Very gently, fighting his deepest desire, fighting, it seemed, life - itself, he tried to disentangle his fingers from Betty's. - </p> - <p> - But hers gripped the more tightly. There was a silence. - </p> - <p> - Then Betty whispered—faintly, yet not caring who might hear: - </p> - <p> - “I can't let you go.” - </p> - <p> - “You must, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I can't stay here. Will you take me with you?” - </p> - <p> - He found this impossible to answer. - </p> - <p> - “It won't take me long. Just a few things in a bag.” And she started away. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright made an effort to block her, but Betty, without another - sound, slipped by and out of the room and ran up the stairs. - </p> - <p> - Then Mrs. Boatwright turned on the man. - </p> - <p> - “You will do this?” she said, in firm stinging tunes. “You will take this - girl away?” - </p> - <p> - He looked at her out of an expressionless face. Behind that mask, his mind - was swiftly surveying the situation from every angle. He knew that he - couldn't, as it stood, leave Betty here. And they wouldn't let him stay. - He must at least try to save her. Nothing else mattered. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he replied. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright turned away. Brachey moved out into the hall and stood - there. To her “At least you will step outside this house?” he replied, - simply, “No.” Dr. Cassin, with a remark about the waiting queue at the - dispensary, went quietly back to her routine work, as if there were no - danger in the world. Mr Boatwright had turned to his wife's desk, and was - making a show of looking over some papers there. Miss Hemphill sank into a - chair and stared at the wall with the memory of horror in her eyes. Mrs. - Boatwright stood within the doorway, waiting. - </p> - <p> - A little time passed. Then Betty came running down the stairs, in - traveling suit, carrying a hand-bag. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright stepped forward. - </p> - <p> - “You really mean to tell me that you will go—alone—with this - man?” - </p> - <p> - Betty's lips slowlyy formed the word, “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Then never come again to me. I can not help you. You are simply bad.” - </p> - <p> - Betty turned to Brachey; gave him her bag. - </p> - <p> - Outside the gate house the little caravan waited. - </p> - <p> - The mules were brought to their knees. Betty stepped, without a word, into - the litter. Brachey closed the side door, and mounted his pony. The mules - were kicked and flogged to their feet. The two soldiers in the lead set - off around the city wall to the corner by the eastern gate, whence the - main highway mounted slowly into the hills toward Ping Yang. As they - turned eastward, a fourth muleteer, ragged and dirty, bearing a small - pack, as the others, joined the party; a fact not observed by the white - man, who rode close beside the litter. - </p> - <p> - But when they had passed the last houses and were out where the road began - to sink below the terraced grain-fields, the new muleteer stepped forward. - For a little space he walked beside the white man's pony. - </p> - <p> - Brachey, at last aware of him, glanced down at the ragged figure. - </p> - <p> - “It's a deuce of a note,” said the new muleteer, looking up and smiling, - “that your courtesy should return like confounded boomerang on your head. - I make thousands of apologies.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey started; then said, merely: - </p> - <p> - “Oh!... You!” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed I have in my own canoe take French leave. That it is funny as the - devil and intruding presumption I know full well. But I have thought to be - of service and pay my shot if you offer second helping of courtesy and - glad hand.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey nodded. “Come along,” said he. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV—THE HILLS - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>OST of the day, - advised by Brachey. Betty kept closed the swinging litter doors. The - little caravan settled into the routine of the highway, the muleteers - trudging beside their animals. The gait was a steady three miles an hour. - John rode his pack-saddle hour after hour, until six' o'clock in the - evening, without a word. Just behind him, the cook, a thin young man with - dreamy eyes, sang quietly a continuous narrative in a wailing, yodling - minor key. - </p> - <p> - Before the end of the first hour they had lost sight of T'ainan-fu and - buried themselves in the hills; buried themselves in a double sense, for - wherever water runs in Northwestern China the roads are narrow canyons. At - times, however, the way mounted high along the hillsides, on narrow - footways of which the mules all instinctively trod the outer edge. Brachey - found it alarming to watch the litter as it swayed over some nearly - perpendicular precipice. For neither up here on the hillsides nor along - the path nor in the depths below was there a sign of solid rock; it was - all the red-brown earth known as loess, which is so fine that it may be - ribbed into the pores like talc or flour and that packs down as firmly as - chalk. Along the sunken ways were frequent caves, the dwelling-places of - crippled, loathsome beggars, with rooms cut out square and symmetrical - doors and windows. - </p> - <p> - In the high places one might look across a narrow chasm and see, - decorating the opposite wall, strata of the loess in delicately varied - tints of brown, red, Indian red and crimson, with blurred soft streaks of - buff and yellow at times marking the divisions. - </p> - <p> - The hills themselves were steep and crowded in, as if a careless Oriental - deity had scooped together great handfuls of brown dice and thrown them - haphazard into heaps. Trees were so few—here and there one might be - seen clinging desperately to a terrace-wall where the narrow fields of - sprouting millet and early shoots of vegetables mounted tier on tier to - the very summits of the hills—that the general effect was of utter - barrenness, a tumbling red desert. - </p> - <p> - Much cf the time they were winding through the canyons or twisting about - the hillsides with only an occasional outlook wider than a few hundred - yards or perhaps a half-mile, but at intervals the crowded little peaks - would separate, giving them a sweeping view over miles of shadowy red - valleys.... At such times Betty would open one of her windows a little and - lean forward; riding close behind, Brachey could see her face, usually so - brightly alert, now sad, peeping out at the richly colored scene. - </p> - <p> - Frequently they passed trains of camels or asses or carts, often on a - precipice where one caravan hugged the loess wall while the other flirted - with death along the earthen edge. But though the Hansean or Chihlean - muleteers shouted and screamed in an exciting confusion of voices and the - Mongol camel drivers growled and the ponies plunged, no animal or man was - lost. - </p> - <p> - Nearly always the air was heavy with fine red dust. It enveloped them like - a fog, penetrating clothing, finding its way into packs and hand-bags. At - times it softened and exquisitely tinted the view. - </p> - <p> - At long intervals the little caravan wound its slow way through villages - that were usually built along a single narrow street. In the broader - valleys the villages, gray brown and faintly red like the soil of which - their bricks had once been moulded, clung compactly to hill-slopes safely - above the torrents of spring and autumn, each little settlement with its - brick or stone wall and its ornamental pagoda gates, and each with its - cluster of trees about some consequential tomb rising above the low roofs - in plumes of pale green April foliage. - </p> - <p> - Nowhere was there a sign of the disorder that was ravaging the province - like a virulent disease. Brachey was aware of no glances of more than the - usual passing curiosity from slanting eyes. He saw only the traditional - peaceful countryside of the Chinese interior. - </p> - <p> - This sense of peace and calm had an effect on his moody self that - increased as the day wore on. Life was turning unreal on his hands. His - judgment wavered and played tricks with memory. Had it been so dangerous - back there in T'ainan? Could it have been? He had to look steadily at the - ragged, trudging figure of the erstwhile elegant Mr. Po to recapture a - small degree of mental balance.... He had brought Betty away. He saw this - now with a nervous, vivid clarity for what it was, an irrevocable act. It - had come about naturally and simply; it had felt inevitable; yet now at - moments, unable to visualize again the danger that had seemed terribly - real in T'ainan he felt it only as the logical end of the emotional drift - that had carried the two of them far out beyond the confines of reason. It - was even possible that Mrs. Boatwright's judgment was the better. - </p> - <p> - But Betty couldn't go back now; they had turned her off; not unless her - father should yet prove to be alive, and that was hardly thinkable. - Anxiously during the day, he asked Mr. Po about that. But Mr. Po's - confidence in the accuracy of his information was unshakable. So here he - was, with a life on his hands, a life so dear to him that he could not - control his mind in merely thinking of her there in the litter, traveling - along without a question, for better or worse, with himself; a life that - perhaps, despite this new spirit of consecration that was rising in his - breast, he might succeed only in injuring. Brooding thus, he became grave - and remote from her. - </p> - <p> - In his distant way he was very considerate, very kind. During the - afternoon, as they moved up a long valley, skirting a broad watercourse - where peach and pear trees foamed with blossoms against the lower slopes - of the opposite hills, he persuaded her to descend from the litter and - walk for a mile or two with him. He felt then her struggle to keep - cheerful and make conversation, but himself lacked the experience with - women that would have made it possible for him to overcome his own - depression and brighten her, Once, when the caravan stopped to repack a - slipping saddle, he asked her to sketch the view for him. It was his idea - that she should be kept occupied when possible. He always corrected his - own moods in that disciplinary manner. But just then his feelings were - running so high, his tenderness toward her was so sensitively deep, that - he spoke bruskly. - </p> - <p> - They rode on through the sunset into the dusk. The red hills turned slowly - purple under the glowing western sky, swam mistily in a world-wide sea of - soft dame. - </p> - <p> - Betty opened her windows wide now; gazed out at this scene of unearthly - beauty with a sad deep light in her eyes. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey rode into - another village. A soldier galloped on ahead to inspect the less - objectionable inn. He reappeared soon, and the caravan jingled and creaked - into a courtyard and stopped for the night. John dismounted and plunged - into argument with the innkeeper. The cook set to work removing a - pack-saddle. Coolies appeared. The mules were beaten to their knees. - Brachey threw his bridle to a soldier and helped Betty out of the litter. - Then they stood, he and she, amid the confusion, her hand resting lightly - on his arm, her eyes on him. - </p> - <p> - Here they were! He felt now her loneliness, her sadness, her—the - word rose—her helpless dependence upon himself. She was so helpless! - His heart throbbed with feeling. He couldn't look down at her, standing - there so close. He couldn't have spoken; not just then. He was struggling - with the impractical thought that he might yet protect her from the savage - tongues of the coast; from himself, even, when you came to it. The - depression that had been pulling him down all day was turning now, rushing - up and flooding his fired brain like a bitter tide. He shouldn't have let - her come. It had been a beautiful impulse; her quiet determination to give - her life into his hands had thrilled him beyond his deepest dreams of - happiness, had lifted him to a plane of devotion that he remembered now, - felt again, even in his bitterness, as utter beauty, intensified rather - than darkened by the tragic quality of the hour. But he shouldn't have let - her come. Mightn't she, after all, have been as safe hack there in the - mission compound? What was the matter?... He hadn't thought of her coming - on with him alone. That had simply happened. It was bewildering. Life had - swept them out of commonplace safety, and now here they were! And nothing - to do but go on, go through! - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I left my bag in there,” he heard her saying, and himself got it - quickly from the litter. - </p> - <p> - Then John came. The “number one” rooms were to be theirs, it seemed; - Betty's and his.... If only he could talk to her! She needed him so ! - Never, perhaps, again, would she need him as now, and he, it seemed, was - failing her. Silently he led her up the steps of the little building at - the end of the courtyard and into the corridor; peered into one dim room - and then into the other; then curtly, roughly ordered John to spread for - her his own square of new matting. - </p> - <p> - Her hand was still on his arm, resting there, oh, so lightly. She seemed - very slim and small. - </p> - <p> - “It's a dreadful place,” he made himself say. “But we'll have to make the - best of it.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't mind,” he thought she replied. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps we'd better have dinner in here, It's a little cleaner than my - room.” - </p> - <p> - She glanced up at him, then down: “I don't believe I can eat anything.” - </p> - <p> - “But you must.” - </p> - <p> - “I—I'll try.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll ask Mr. Po to come in with us. He is a gentleman. And perhaps it - would be better.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes,” said she, “of course.” - </p> - <p> - “Here's John with hot water. I'll leave you now.” - </p> - <p> - “You'll—come back?” - </p> - <p> - “For dinner, yes.” - </p> - <p> - With this he gently withdrew his arm. As she watched him go her eyes - filled Then she closed her door. - </p> - <p> - Brachey found Mr. Po curled on the ground against a pack-saddle, smoking a - Chinese pipe. - </p> - <p> - He rose at once, all smiles, and bowed half-way to the ground. But he - thought it inadvisable to accept the invitation. - </p> - <p> - “I hate to be fly in ointments,” he said, with his curiously dispassionate - quickness and ease of speech, “but it's really no go. Our own men would - play game of thick and thin blood brother, but to village gossip monger I - must remain muleteer and down and out person of no account. It's a dam' - sight safer for each and every one of us.” - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>etty tried to set - the dingy room to rights. John had laid a white cloth over the table, and - put out Brachey's tin plate and cup, his knife, fork and spoon, an English - biscuit tin and a bright little porcelain jar of Scotch jam that was - decorated with a red-and-green plaid. These things helped a little. She - tidied herself as best she could; and then waited. - </p> - <p> - For a time she sat by the table, very still, hands folded in her lap; but - this was difficult, for thoughts came—thoughts that spun around and - around and bewildered her—and tears. The tears she would not permit. - She got up; rearranged the things on the table; moved over to the window, - and through a hole in one of the paper squares watched with half-seeing - eyes the coolies and soldiers and animals in the courtyard. Her head - ached. And that wheel of patchwork thoughts spun uncontrollably around. - </p> - <p> - For a little time then the tears came unhindered. That her father, that - strong splendid man, could have been casually slain by vagabonds in a - Chinese city seemed now, as it had seemed all day, incredible. His loss - was only in part personal to her, so much of her life had been lived on - the other side of the world; but childhood memories of him rose, and - pictures of him as she had lately seen him, grave and kind and (since that - moving little talk about beauty and its importance in the struggle of - life) lovable. Her mother, too, had to-day become again a vivid memory. - And then the sheer mystery of death twisted and tortured her sensitive - Pagination, led her thoughts out into regions so grimly, darkly beautiful, - so unbearably poignant, that her slender frame shook with sobs. - </p> - <p> - The sensation of rootlessness, too, was upon her. But now it was complete. - There was no tie to hold her to life. Only this man on whom, moved by - sheer emotion, without a thought of self, yet (she thought now) with utter - unreasoning selfishness, she had fastened herself. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright had called her bad. That couldn't be true. She couldn't - picture herself as that. Even now, in this bitter crisis, she wasn't hard, - wasn't even reckless; simply bewildered and terribly alone. Emotion had - caught her. It <i>was</i> like a net. It had carried her finally out of - herself. There was no way back; she was caught. Yet now the only thing - that had justified this step—and how simple, how easy it had - appeared in the morning!—the beautiful sober passion that had drawn - her to the one mate, was clouded. For he had changed! He had drawn away. - They were talking no more of love. She couldn't reach him; her desperately - seeking heart groped in a dim wilderness and found no one, nothing. His - formal kindness hurt her. Nothing could help her but love; and love, - perhaps, was gone. - </p> - <p> - So the wheel spun on and on. - </p> - <p> - She saw him talking with the indomitably courteous Mr. Po. He came back - then to the building they were to share that night. She heard him working - at his door across the narrow corridor, trying to close it. He succeeded; - then stirred about his room for a long time; a very long time, she - thought. - </p> - <p> - Then John came across the court from the innkeeper's kitchen with covered - dishes, steaming hot. She let him in; then, while he was setting out the - meal, turned away and once more fought back the tears. Brachey must not - see them. She was helped in this by a sudden mentally blinding excitement - that came, an inexplicable nervous tension. He was coming; and alone, for - she had seen Mr. Po shake his head and settle back contentedly with his - pipe against the pack-saddle.... That was the strange fact about love; it - kept rushing unexpectedly back whenever her unstable reason had for a - little while disposed of it; an unexpected glimpse of him, a bit of his - handwriting, a mere thought was often enough. Sorrow could not check it; - at this moment her heart seemed broken by the weight of the tragic world, - yet it thrilled at the sound of his step. And it couldn't be wholly - selfish, for the quite overwhelming uprush of emotion brought with it a - deeper tenderness toward her brave father, toward that pretty, happy - mother of the long ago; she thought even of her school friends. She was - suddenly stirred with the desire to face this strange struggle called - living and conquer it. Her heart leaped. He was coming! - </p> - <p> - His door opened. He stepped across the corridor and tapped at hers. She - hurried to open it. All impulse, she reached out a hand; then, chilled, - caught again in the dishearteringly formal mood of the day, drew it back. - </p> - <p> - For he stood stiffly there, clad in black with smooth white shirt-front - and collar and little black tie. He had dressed for dinner. - </p> - <p> - She turned quickly toward the table. - </p> - <p> - “John has everything ready,” she said, now quite as formal as he. “We may - as well sit right down.” - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or a time they - barely spoke. John had lighted the native lamp, and it flickered gloomily - in the swiftly gathering darkness, throwing a huge shadow of him on the - walls, and even on the ceiling, as he moved softly in his padded shoes - about the table and in and out at the door. - </p> - <p> - Betty's mood had sunk, now at last, into the unreal. She seemed to be - living through a dream of nightmare quality—something she had—it - was elusive, haunting—lived through before. She saw Jonathan Brachey - distantly, as she had seen him at first, so bewilderingly long ago on a - ship in the Inland Sea of Japan. She saw again his long bony nose, coldly - reflective eyes, firmly modeled head.... And he was talking, when he spoke - at all, as he had talked on the occasion of their first meeting, slowly, - in somewhat stilted language, pausing interminably while he hunted about - in his amazing mind for the word or phrase that would precisely express - his meaning. - </p> - <p> - “There is a village a short distance this side of Ping Yang, Mr. Po tells - me”... here a pause... “not an important place. Ordinarily we should pass - through it about noon of the day after to-morrow. But he has picked up - word that a Looker band has been organized there, and he thinks it may be - best for us to...” and here a pause so long as to become nearly unbearable - to Betty. For a time she moved her fork idly about her plate, waiting for - that next word. At length she gave up, folded her hands in her lap, tried - to compose her nerves. After that she glanced timidly at him, then looked - up at the waveing shadows on the dim veils. It was almost as if he had - forgotten she was there. He was interested, apparently, in nothing in life - except those words he sought: “... to make a detour to the south.” - </p> - <p> - Betty drew in a deep breath. She felt her color coming slowly back. The - 'best thing to do, she decided, was to go on trying to eat. He had been - right enough about that. She must try. It was, in a way, her part of it; - to keep strong. Or she would be more hopelessly than ever fastened on - him.... It seemed to her as never before a dreadful thing to be a woman. - Tears came again, and she fought them back, even managed actually to eat a - little. “It will mean still another....” - </p> - <p> - “Another what?” She waited and waited. - </p> - <p> - “Another night on the road, after tomorrow. I am sorry.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0273.jpg" alt="0273 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0273.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - She had lately forgotten the slightly rasping quality in his voice, though - it had been what she had first heard there. Now it seemed to her that she - could hear nothing else.... What blind force was it that had thrust them - so wide apart; after those ardent, tender, heart-breaking hours together - at T'ainan; wonderful stolen hours, stirring her to a happiness so wildly - beautiful that it touched creative springs in her sensitive young soul and - released the strong eager woman there. This, the present situation, - carried her so far beyond her experience, beyond her mental grasp, that, - she could only sit very quiet and try to weather it. She could do that, of - course, somehow. One did. It came down simply to the gift of character. - And that, however undeveloped, she had. - </p> - <p> - Now and then, of course, clear thoughts flashed out for a moment; but only - for a moment at a time. She sensed clearly enough that his whole being was - centered on the need of protecting her. It was the fineness in him that - made him hold himself so rigidly to the task. But it was a task to him; - that was the thing. And his reticence! It was his attitude—or was it - hers?—that had made frank talk impossible all day, ever since their - moment of perfect silent understanding facing Mrs. Boatwright. He had felt - then, with her, that she had to come, that it was their only way out; but - now he, and therefore she, was clouded with afterthoughts. They had come - to be frank enough about their dilemma, back there at T'ainan. But from - the moment of leaving the city gate and striking tiff into the hills, they - had lost something vital. And with every hour of this reticence, this - talking about nothing, the situation was going to grow worse. She felt - that, even now; struggled against it; but tound herself moving deeper, - minute by minute, into the gloom that had settled on them.... And back of - her groping thoughts, giving them a puzzling sort of life, was excitement, - energy, the sense of being borne swiftly along on a mighty wave of feeling—swiftly, - swiftly, to a tragic, dim place where the withered shadows of youth and - joy and careless laughter caught at one in hopeless weakness and slipped - off unheeded into the unknown. - </p> - <p> - They came down at last to politeness. They even spoke of the food; and he - reproved John for not keeping the curried mutton hot. And then, without - one personal word, he rose to go. She rose, too, and stood beside her - chair; she couldn't raise her eyes. She heard his voice saying, coldly she - thought: - </p> - <p> - “I shall leave you now. You must...” - </p> - <p> - She waited, holding her breath. - </p> - <p> - “... you must get what sleep you can. I think we shall have no trouble - here.” - </p> - <p> - After this he stood for a long moment. She couldn't think why. Then he - went out, softly closing the door after him. Then his door opened, and, - with some creaking of rusty hinges and scraping on the tiles, closed. And - then Betty dropped down by the table and let the tears come. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI—DESTINY - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>HE heard little - more for several hours; merely a muffled stirring about, at long - intervals, as if he were walking the floor or trying to move a chair very - quietly. The cot on which she now so restlessly lay was his. She couldn't - sleep; he might as well have it, but would, of course, refuse.... She - listened for a long time to the movements of the animals in the stable. - Much later—the gong-clanging watchman had passed on his rounds twice - at fewest; it must have been midnight—she heard him working very - softly at his door. He was occupied some little time at this. She lay - breathless. At length he got it open, and seemed to stand quietly in the - corridor. Then, after a long silence, he opened as carefully the outer - door, that had on it, she knew, a spring of bent steel, like a bow. After - this he was still; standing outside, perhaps, or sitting on the top step. - </p> - <p> - For a moment she indulged herself in the wish that she might ha\e courage - to call to him; to call him by name; to call him by the name, “John,” she - had no more than begun, that last day in the tennis court, timidly to - utter. Her whole being yearned toward him She asked herself, lying there, - why honesty should be impossible to a girl. Why shouldn't she call to him? - She needed him so; not the strange stilted man of the day and evening, but - the other, deeply tender lover that breathed still, she was almost sure, - somewhere within the crust that encased him. And they had been honest, he - and she; that had turned out to be the wonderful fact in their swift - courtship. - </p> - <p> - But this was only a vivid moment. She made no sound. The warm tears lay on - her cheeks. - </p> - <p> - After a little—it rose out of a jumble of wild thoughts, and then - slowly came clear; she must have been dozing lightly—she heard his - voice, very low; then another voice, a man's, that ran easily on in a soft - nervelessness, doubtless the voice of Mr. Po. She thought of making a - sound, even of lighting the little iron lamp; they must not be left - thinking her safely asleep; but she did nothing; and the voices faded into - dreams as a fitful sleep came to her. Nature is merciful to the young. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>uring those - evening hours, Brachey sat for the most part staring at his wall. Finally, - at the very edge of despair—for life, all that night, and the next - day and the next night, offered Brachey nothing but a blank, black - precipice over which he and Betty were apparently plunging—he gave - up hope of falling asleep in his chair (important though he knew sleep to - he, in the grisly light of what might yet have to be faced) and went out - and sat on the steps; still in the grotesquely inappropriate dinner - costume. - </p> - <p> - A shape detached itself from the shadows of the stable door and moved - silently toward him. - </p> - <p> - Brachey welcomed the opportunity for a little man talk, if only because it - might, for the time, take his mind in some degree out of the emotional - whirlpool in which it was helplessly revolving. - </p> - <p> - “You've heard no more news?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no,” replied Mr. Po, with his soft little laugh. “There is no more - oil on fire of province discontent.” - </p> - <p> - “From your letter I gathered that you are not so sure of Pao.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Po did not at once reply to this; seemed to be considering it, gazing - out on the moonlit courtyard. - </p> - <p> - “It is no longer a case of cat and mouse,” Brachey pressed on. “Something - happened last night at the yamen. Am I right?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey waited. After a long pause Mr. Po shifted his position, laughed a - little, then spoke as follows: - </p> - <p> - “In afternoon yesterday old reprobate, Kang, sent to His Excellency letter - which passed between my hands as secretary. He said that in days like - these of great sorrow and humiliation agony of China it is best that those - of responsible care and devotion to her welfare should draw together in - friendship, and therefore he would in evening make call on His Excellency - to express friendship and speak of measures that might lay dust of - misunderstanding and what-not.” - </p> - <p> - “Hmm!” Thus Brachey. “And what did <i>that</i> mean?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, the devil to pay and all! It was insult of blackest nature.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't quite see that.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes. He should not have written in arrogant put-in-your-place way. - His Excellency most graciously gave orders to prepare ceremonial banquet - and presents of highest value, but in his calm eye flashed light of battle - to death. You see, sir, it was thought of Kang to show all T'ainan and - near-by province who was who, taking bull by horns.” - </p> - <p> - “Hmm! I don't know as I... well, go on.” - </p> - <p> - “In particular His Excellency made prepare great bowl of sweet lotus soup, - for in past years Kang had great weakness for such soup made by old cook - of far-away Canton who attach to His Excellency a devil of a while ago.” - </p> - <p> - “And so they had the banquet?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, and I was privileged to be in midst.” - </p> - <p> - “You were there?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes. Banquet was of great dignity and courteous good fellowship.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't altogether understand the good fellowship.” - </p> - <p> - “China custom habit differs no end from Western custom habit.” - </p> - <p> - “Naturally. Yes. But what was Kang really up to?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm driving at that. After banquet all attendant retinue mandarins - withdraw out of rooms except secretaries.” - </p> - <p> - “Why didn't they go too?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, well, it was felt by Kang that His Excellency might put it all over - him with knives of armed men. And His Excellency had not forgotten tricky - thought of Kang in eighteen-ninety-eight in Shantung when he asks - disagreement but very strong mandarins to banquet and then sends out - soldiers to remove heads in a wink while mandarins ride out to their homes - when all good nights are said.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean that Kang's men beheaded all his dinner guests, because they - disagreed with him?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes.” Here Mr. Po grew reflective. “Kang is very queer old son of a - gun—very tall, very thin, very old, with face all lines that come - down so”—he drew down his smooth young face in excellent mimicry of - an old man—“and he stoops so, and squints little sharp eyes like - river rat, so. A mighty smart man, the reprobate! Regular old devil!” Mr. - Po laughed a little. “My bosom friend Chih T'ang slipped himself in to me - and explained in whisper talk that yamen of His Excellency was surrounded - by Western soldiers of that old Manchu devil. And within yamen, up to - third gate itself, swarmed a hell of a crowd of Manchu guard of Kang. It - was no joke, by thunder!” - </p> - <p> - “I should say not,” observed Brachey dryly. “You were going to tell me - what Kang was really up to.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! I will tell that post haste. When all had gone except four—” - </p> - <p> - “That is, Kang, and His Excellency, and two secretaries?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, of whom it was my honor to be absurdly small part. Then Kang - explained with utmost etiquette courtesy to His Excellency that letter had - but yesterday come to him of most hellish import and very front rank. And - his secretary handed cool as you please letter to me and I to Kis - Excellency. It was letter of Prince Tuan to old Kang giving him power to - have beheaded at once His Excellency.” - </p> - <p> - “To behead Pao?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! And Kang said in neat speech then that no one could imagine his - heartsick distress that one in power should wish great headless injury to - dear old friend of long years and association government. To him he said - it meant hell to pay. And he asked that His Excellency pass over from own - hand infamous letter to be destroyed on spot by own hand of himself with - firm resolve. But His Excellency smiled—a dam' big man!—and - said for letter of Prince Tuan he felt only worshipful respect and - obedience spirit, and he gave letter to me, and I delivered it to - secretary of Kang, and secretary of Kang delivered it; to old Manchu - himself. Then Kang, with own hands tore letter to bits and dropped bits in - bowl, and his secretary asked me to have servant burn them, but I put on - courteous look of attention to slightest wish of His Excellency and do not - hear low word of secretary to old devil. And then Manchu reprobate with - great courtesy makes farewell ceremony and goes out to his chair and - altogether it's a hell of a note.” - </p> - <p> - Bradley, in his deliberately reflective way, put the curious story - together in his mind. - </p> - <p> - “Kang, of course, sent to Peking for that letter.” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes.” - </p> - <p> - “It was, in a way, fair warning to Pao that the time had come for action - and that Pao had better not try to meddle.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes—all of that. When he had gone Pao was sad. For he knew now - that Kang had on his side heavy hand of Imperial Court at Peking. And - then, late in night we have word from yamen of Kang and other word from - observing officers of His Excellency that Western soldiers make attack at - Hung Chan and that Reverend Doane is killed at city gate. Old Kang express - great regret consideration and shed tears of many crocodiles, but they - don't go.” - </p> - <p> - “And Pao found himself powerless to interfere.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! And so then I had audience of His Excellency and with permission - of his mouth sent letter to you. His Excellency formed opinion right off - the reel that it is not wise to send warning to mission compound, and that - if I ever send word to you my head would not longer be of much use to me - in T'ainan.” - </p> - <p> - “Need they know of it at Kang's yamen?” - </p> - <p> - “There can not be secrets 'n yamen of great mandarin from observation eyes - of other mandarin. Nothing doing!'' - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I see. Spying goes on all the time, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! So I say farewell with tears to His Excellency, and in these old - clothes of great disrepute, I”—he chuckled—“I make my - skiddoo.” From within the rags about his body he drew a soiled roll of - paper “It has occurred to me that at Ping Yang time might roll around - heavily on your hands and then, if you don't care what fool thing you do, - you might bring me great honor by reading this silly little thing. It is - lecture of which I spoke lightly once too often.” - </p> - <p> - Absently Brachey took it. “But why can't old Kang see,” he asked—“and - Prince Tuan, for that matter—that if they are to start in again - slaughtering white people, they will simply be piling up fresh trouble for - China? Pao, I gather, does see it.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh. yes, His Excellency sees very far, but now he must sit on fence and - wait a bit. Kang, like Prince Tuan, is of the old.” - </p> - <p> - “Didn't the outcome of the Boxer trouble teach these men anything?” - </p> - <p> - “Not these men. Old China mind is not same as Western progress mind—” - </p> - <p> - “I quite understand that, but...” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Po was slowly shaking his head. “No, old China minds dwell in - different proposition. It is hard to say.” - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>oward morning, - before his lamp burned out, Brachey read the lecture to which Mr. Po was - pinning such great hopes. It seemed rather hopeless. There was humor, of - course, in the curious arrangement of English words; but this soon wore - off. - </p> - <p> - Later, sitting in the dark, waiting for the first faint glow of dawn, and - partly as an exercise of will, he pondered the problems clustering about - the little, hopeful, always aggressive settlements of white in Chinese - Asia. Mr. Po's phrases came repeatedly to mind. That one—“Old China - mind dwell in different proposition.” Mr. Po was touching there, - consciously or not, on the heart of the many-tinted race problems which - this bafflingly complex old world must one day either settle or give up. - The inertia of a numerous, really civilized and ancient race like the - Chinese was in itself a mighty force, one of the mightiest in the - world.... Men like Prince Tuan and this Kang despised the West, of course. - And with some reason, when you came down to it. For along Legation Street - the whites dwelt in a confusion of motives. They had exhibited a firm - purpose only when Legation Street itself was attacked. By no means all the - stray casualties among the whites in China were avenged by their - governments. In the present little crisis out here in Hansi, it might be a - long time—a very long time indeed—before the lumbering - machinery of government could be stirred to act in an unaccustomed - direction. At the present time there were not enough American troops in - China to make possible a military expedition to Ping Yang; merely a - company of marines at the legation. To penetrate so far inland and - maintain communication an army corps would be needed; troops might even - have to be assembled and trained in America. It might take a year. And - first the diplomats would have to investigate; then the State Department - would have to be brought by heavy and complicated public pressures to the - point of actually functioning; a sentimental element back home might - question the facts... Meantime, he hadn't yet so much as got Betty safely - to Ping Yang. - </p> - <p> - It was “hard to say.” But he found objective thought helpful. Emotion - seemed, this night, not unlike a consuming fire. Emotion was, in its - nature, desire. It led toward destruction. - </p> - <p> - He even made himself sleep a little, in a chair; until John knocked, at - seven. Then he changed from evening dress to knickerbockers. His spirit - had now sunk so low that he had John serve them separately with breakfast. - </p> - <p> - When the caravan was ready he went out to the courtyard and busied himself - preparing the litter for her. She came out with John, very white, glancing - at him with a timid question in her eyes. In his stiffest manner he handed - her into the litter. - </p> - <p> - Then, accompanied by three soldiers, they swung out on the highway. The - fourth soldier joined them outside the wall; him Brachey had sent to the - telegraph station with a message to his Shanghai bankers advising them - that his address would be in care of M. Pourmont, the Ho Shan Company, - Ping Yang, Hansi, and further that cablegrams from America were to be - forwarded immediately by wire. - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p> - Only at intervals during the forenoon did Betty and Brachey speak; for the - most part he rode ahead of the litter. The luncheon hour was awkward; the - dinner hour, when they had settled at their second inn, was even more - difficult. They sat over their tin plates and cups in gloomy silence. - </p> - <p> - Finally Betty pushed her plate away, and rose; went over to the papered - window and stared out. - </p> - <p> - Brachey got slowly to his feet; stood by the table. He couldn't raise his - eyes; he could only study the outline of his plate and move it a little, - this way and that, and pick up crumbs from the table-cloth. His mind was - leaden; the sense of unreality that had come to him on the preceding day - was now at a grotesque climax. He literally could not think. This, he - felt, was the final severe test of his character, and it exhibited him as - a failure. He was then, after all, a lone wolf; his instinct had been - sound at the start, his nature lacked the quality, the warmth and richness - of feeling, that the man who would claim a woman's love must offer her. He - could suffer—the pain that even now, as he stood listless there, - downcast, heavily fingering a tin plate, was torturing him to the limits - of his capacity to endure, told him that— out suffering seemed a - poor gift to bring the woman he loved. ... And here they were, unable to - turn back. It was unthinkable; yet it was true. His reason kept thundering - at his ear the perhaps tragic fact that his spirit was unable to grasp.... - Braehey, during this hour—with a bitterness so deep as to border on - despair—told himself that his lack amounted to abnormality. His case - seemed quite hopeless. Yet here he was; and here, irrevocably, was she. - The harm, whatever it might prove to be, and in spite of his sensitive, - fire conquest of them emotional problem (at such a price, this!) was done. - And there were no compensations. Here they were, lost, groping helplessly - toward each other through a dark labyrinth. - </p> - <p> - Even when she turned (he heard her, and felt her eyes) he could not look - up. - </p> - <p> - Then he heard her voice; an unsteady voice, very low; and he felt again - the simple honesty, the naively child-like quality, that had seemed her - finest gift. It was the artist strain in her, of course. She was not - ashamed of her feeling, of her tears; there had never been pretense or - self-consciousness in her. And while she now, at first, uttered merely his - name—'"John!”—his inner ear heard her saying again, as she had - said during their first talk in the tennis court—“I wonder if it is - like a net.”... Yes, she seemed to be saying that again. - </p> - <p> - But he was speaking; out of a thick throat: - </p> - <p> - “Yes?” - </p> - <p> - “What are we to do?” - </p> - <p> - He met this with a sort of mental dishonesty that he found himself unable - to avoid. “Well—if all goes well, we shall be safe at Ping Yang - within forty-eight hours.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't mean that.” - </p> - <p> - “Well...” - </p> - <p> - “I shouldn't have come.” - </p> - <p> - “I couldn't leave you there, dear. Not there at T'ainan.” - </p> - <p> - “It wasn't you who made the decision.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes—” - </p> - <p> - “No, I did it. It seemed the thing to do.” - </p> - <p> - He managed to look up now, but could not knowhow coolly impenetrable he - appeared to be. “It <i>was</i> the thing.” - </p> - <p> - She slowly shook her head. “No... no, I shouldn't have come.” - </p> - <p> - “I can't let you say that.” - </p> - <p> - “It's true. Can't we be honest?” - </p> - <p> - The question stung him. He dropped again into his chair and sat for a - brief time, thinking, thinking, in that, to her, terribly deliberate way - of his. - </p> - <p> - “You're right,” he finally came out. “We've got to be honest. It's the - only thing left to us, apparently... The mistake lay back there in - T'ainan. Our first talk in the tennis court. I knew then that the thing - for me to do was to go.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't let you.” - </p> - <p> - “But I should have. That situation was the same as this, only then we - hadn't crossed our Rubicon. Now w e have. Don't you see? This situation - has followed that, inevitably. And now we no longer have the power to - choose. We've got to go on, at least as far as Ping Yang. But we mustn't - be together...” - </p> - <p> - She glanced at him, then away. - </p> - <p> - “—no, not even like this. We have no right to indulge our moods. I'm - going to be really honest now. We're in danger from these natives, yes. - But that's a small thing.” - </p> - <p> - She moved a hand. “Of course...” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - “The real danger is to you. And from me. Oh, my God, child, you're in - danger from me!” He covered his face with his hands; then, after a moment, - steadied himself, and rose. “I can't stay here and talk with you like - this. I can't even help you. Already I've injured your name beyond - repair.” - </p> - <p> - She broke in here with a low-voiced remark the mature character of which - he did not, in his self-absorption, catch. “I don't believe you know - modern girls very well.” - </p> - <p> - He went on: “So you see, I've hurt you, and now, when you need me most—oh, - I know that!—I'm fading you. It's been a terrible mistake. But it's - my job to get you to Ping Yang. That's all. No good talking. I'll go - now'.” - </p> - <p> - “I wish you wouldn't.” - </p> - <p> - “I must. I—there we are! I'm failing you, that's all.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if we're talking—or thinking—about the same things.” - </p> - <p> - “Child, you're young! You don't understand! You don't seem to see how I've - hurt you!” - </p> - <p> - “I think I see what you mean. But that—it might be difficult, of - course, for a while, but it isn't what I've been thinking of. No, please - let me say this! It wouldn't be fair not to give me my chance to be honest - too. As for that—hurting me—I came with my eyes open.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Betty—” - </p> - <p> - “Please! I did. I deliberately decided to come with you. I knew they'd - talk, but I didn't care—much. You see I had already made up my mind - that we were to be married. We'd have to be, once you were free. The way - we've felt. You came way out here, and then you didn't go.” - </p> - <p> - “That was weakness.” - </p> - <p> - “You can call it weakness, or something else. But I'm in the same boat. - And if we couldn't let each other go then, it was bound to grow harder - every day. I had to recognize that. That was where I crossed my Rubicon. - Nothing else mattered very much after that. I came with you because I was - all alone, and miserable, and—oh, I may as well say it...” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, honesty's the only thing now.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I simply had to. I couldn't face life any other way. I've been - thinking it over and over and over. I see it now. I was just selfish. Love - is selfishness, apparently. I fastened myself on you. I knew you had to - have solitude, but I didn't seem to care. Perhaps you've hurt me. I don't - know. But I am beginning to see that I've wrecked your life. I'm your job, - now, just as you said. All those things you said on the ship have been - coming up in my mind yesterday and to-day. Don't you suppose I can see it? - My whole life right now is a demand on you.” Her tone was not bitter, but - sad, unutterably sad. “You said, 'Strength is better.' I'm running up with - you now a 'spiritual' debt greater than I can ever pay. You said, 'If any - friend of mine—man or woman—-can't win his own battles, he or - she had better go. To hell, if it comes to that.'” - </p> - <p> - She was looking full at him now, wide-eyed, standing rigid, her hands - extended a little way. - </p> - <p> - There was a long silence; then, abruptly, without a word, without even a - change of expression on his gloomy face, he left the room. - </p> - <h3> - 5 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat night was - Betty's Gethsemane. Again and again she lived through their strange - quarrel over the half-eaten dinner here in her room. Her mind phrased and - rephrased the wild strong things she had said to him. And these phrases - now stung her, hurt her, as had none of his. - </p> - <p> - But once again, after hours of tossing on the narrow folding cot—<i>his</i> - cot—sleep of a sort came to her. She did not wake until half a - hundred beams of sunshine were streaming in through the dilapidated paper - squares. - </p> - <p> - She rose and peeped out into the courtyard. They were packing one of the - saddles; John, and cook, and a soldier. Brachey was not in sight. He would - be in his room then, across the corridor. She wondered if he had slept at - all, then glanced guiltily at the cot. He would hardly lie on the unclean - <i>kang</i>; very likely he had been forced to doze in a chair these two - nights, while she found some real rest. There, again, she was using him, - taking from him; and all he had asked of life was solitude, peace. For - that he had foregone friends, a home, his country. - </p> - <p> - Then her eyes rested on a bit of white paper under the door. She quickly - drew it in, and read as follows: - </p> - <p> - “My Dear, Dear Little Girl— - </p> - <p> - “As you of course saw this evening, it is simply impossible for me to - speak rationally in matters of the affections. It is equally clear that by - indulging my feelings toward you I have brought you nothing but - unhappiness. This was inevitable. As I wrote you before I am not a social - being. This fact was never so clear as now. I must be alone. - </p> - <p> - “As regards the statements you have just made, indicating that you attach - the blame for the present predicament to yourself, these are, of course, - absurd. I'm sure you will come in time to see that. It will be a question - then whether you will be able to bring yourself to forgive me for - permitting matters to go so far as they have. That has been my weakness. I - allowed my admiration for you and my desire for you to overcome my reason. - </p> - <p> - “As for the course you must pursue, it will be, of course, to go on as far - as Ping Yang. There I will leave you. It may even prove possible, despite - the malignant enmity of Mrs. Boatwright, to convince M. Pourmont and the - others that we are guilty of nothing more than an error of judgment in an - extremely difficult situation. Certainly I shall demand the utmost respect - for you. - </p> - <p> - “I shall make it a point to avoid you in the morning; and it will - undoubtedly be best that we refrain so far as possible from speech during - the remainder of our journey. I shall go on alone, as soon as you are safe - at Ping Yang. I can not forgive myself for thus disturbing your life. - </p> - <p> - “I can not trust myself to write further. It is my experience that words - are dangerous things and not to be trifled with. I will merely add, in - conclusion, and in wishing that you may at some later time find a mate who - can bring into your life the qualities which you must have in order to - attain happiness, and which I unquestionably lack, that I shall hope, in - time, for your forgiveness.. Without that I should hardly care to live on. - </p> - <p> - “Jonathan Brachey.” - </p> - <p> - Soberly Betty read and reread this curious letter. Then for a moment her - eyes rested on the cool signature, without so much as a “sincerely yours,” - and then she looked at that first phrase, “My Dear, Dear Little Girl”; and - then her eyes grew misty and she smiled, faintly, tenderly. Suddenly, this - morning, life had changed color; the black mood was gone, like an illness - that had passed its climax. The curious antagonism in their talk the - evening before had, it seemed, cleared the air—at least for her. And - now, all at once—she was beginning to feel quietly but glowingly - exultant about it—nothing mattered. - </p> - <p> - She ate all the breakfast that John brought; then hurried out. It gave her - pleasure to stand aside and watch the packing, and particularly to watch - Brachey as he moved sternly about. He was a strong man, as her father had - been strong. He hadn't a glimmer of humor, but she loved him for that. He - had all at once become so transparent. In his lonely way he had expended - so much energy fighting the illusions of happiness, that now when real - happiness was offered him he fought harder than ever. Her thoughtful eyes - followed his every motion; he was tall, strong, clean. - </p> - <p> - His heart and mind, in their very austerity, were like a child's. - </p> - <p> - So deep ran this sober new happiness, as she stood by the litter waiting - until he came—austerely—and helped her in (she was waiting for - the touch of his hand, averting her face to hide the smile that she - couldn't altogether control) that only a warmly up-rushing little thought - of her father that came just then could restore her poise. She cared now - about nothing else, about only this man whom she now knew she loved with - her whole being and the father she had so suddenly, shockingly lost. If - only, in the different ways, she might have brought happiness to each of - these strong men. If only she could have brought them together, her father - and her lover; for each, she felt, had fine deep qualities that the other - would be quick to perceive. - </p> - <p> - All during the morning, feeling through every sensitive nerve-tip the - nearness of this man who loved her and whom she loved, she rode through a - land of rosy dreams. She felt again the power over life that she had felt - during their first talk at T'ainan. Love had come; it absorbed her - thoughts; it was right.... She exulted in the misty red hills with their - deep purple shadows. She smiled at the absurd camels with the rings in - their noses and the ragged, shaggy coats. - </p> - <p> - After a time, as the morning wore along, she became aware that he, too, - was changing. Once, when he rode for a moment beside her Inter, he caught - sight of her quietly radiant face and flushed and turned away. At lunch, - by a roadside temple, under a tree, they talked about nothing with - surprising ease. He was eager that she should draw and paint these - beautiful hills of Hansi. - </p> - <p> - Late in the afternoon—they were riding down an open valley—he - appeared again beside the litter. Impulsively she reached out her hand. He - guided his pony close; leaned over and gripped it warmly. For a little - while they rode thus; then, happening out of a confusion of impulses that, - with whichever it began, was instantly communicated to the other, he bent - down and she leaned out the little side door and their lips met. - </p> - <p> - The cook, from his insecure seat on the pack-saddle, carolled his endless - musical narrative. John rode in stolid silence; the merely human emotions - were ages old and quite commonplace. Mr. Po merely glanced up as he - trudged along in the dust, taking the little incident calmly for granted. - </p> - <p> - So it was that, unaccountably to themselves, the spin of these two lovers - rebounded from acute depression to an exaltation that, however sobered by - circumstance, touched the skirts of ecstasy. They rode on silently as on - the other days> but now their hearts beat in happy unison. No longer was - the situation of their relationship unreal to them; the unreality lay with - the white world from which they had come and to which they must shortly - return. The mission compound was but an immaterial memory, like an - unpleasant moment in a long, beautiful journey. - </p> - <p> - In the evening after dinner, they sat for a long time with her head on his - shoulder dreamily talking of the mystery, their mystery, of love. - </p> - <p> - “It had to be,” she said. - </p> - <p> - He could only incline his head and compress his lips as he gazed out over - her head down a long vista of years, during which he would, for better or - worse, for richer or poorer, protect and cherish her. The old phrases from - the marriage service rang in his thoughts like cathedral bells. - </p> - <p> - “1 don't believe we'll ever have those dreadful moods again,” she - murmured, later. “At least, we won't misunderstand each other again. Not - like that.” - </p> - <p> - “Never,” he breathed. - </p> - <p> - “Only one thing is wrong, dear,” she added. “I wish father could have - known you. He'd have understood you. That's the only sad thing.” - </p> - <p> - He was silent. At last, after midnight, in a spirit of deepest - consecration, he held her gently in his arms, kissed her good night, and - went to his own room. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII—APPARITION - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>EANTIME, M. - Pourmont, at Ping Yang, was calling in his white assistants and sifting - out the trustworthy among his native employees in preparation for - withstanding a siege. He had swiftly carried out his plan of destroying - the native huts that stood within a hundred yards of his compound. Such - lumber and bricks as were of any value he had brought into the compound, - using them to build two small redoubts at opposite comers of the walled-in - rectangle and to increase the number of firing positions along the walls. - From the redoubts the faces of the four walls and all of the hillside were - commanded by the two machine guns. A wall of bricks and sand-bags was - built up just within the compound gate so that the gate could be opened - without exposing the interior to outside eyes or weapons. On all the roofs - of the low stables and storehouses that bordered the walls were parapets - of sand-bags. - </p> - <p> - These elaborate preparations were meant as much to impress and intimidate - the natives of the region as for actual defense. In the main, and in so - far as they could be understood, the natives seemed friendly. Several - thousand of the young men among them had been at various times on M. - Pourmont's pay-roll. The trade in food supplies, brick and other necessary - articles was locally profitable. And the shen magistrate was keenly aware - of the commercial and military strength represented by the foreigners. - </p> - <p> - There were—engineers, instrument men, stake-boys, supply agents, - clerks, timekeepers, foremen and others—fourteen Frenchmen, eight - Australians, three Belgians, six Englishmen, two Scotch engineers, four - Americans, two Russians. Three of the Chinese had served as - non-commissioned officers in the British Wei Hai Wei regiment in 1900. - There were a few native foremen who had been trained in the modern Chinese - army of Yuan Shi K'ai. The total force, including M. Pourmont himself and - his immediate office force, came to forty-six white and about eighty - able-bodied Chinese. These latter were now being put through hours of - military drill every day in conspicuous places about the hillside. - </p> - <p> - A number of men acted as intelligence runners, and the activity of these, - supplemented by occasional word from the yamen of the shen magistrate, - kept M. Pourmont informed of the march of events in the province. Thus it - could not have been twelve hours after Brachey bore the news of Griggsby - Doane's death to the mission at T'ainan-fu before M. Pourmont as well knew - of it, the word coming hy wire to the local yamen and thence passing in - whispers to the compound on the hill. - </p> - <p> - Then, late one afternoon, Doane's pretty little daughter came in, escorted - by the American journalist, Jonathan Brachey, and a young secretary from - the yamen of the provincial judge disguised as a muleteer. Brachey at once - volunteered to help and was put in charge of preparing two small lookout - posts on the upper hill. He was uncommunicative and dryly self-sufficient - in manner, but proved a real addition to the establishment, contributing - the great Anglo-Saxon quality of confidence and tone. Though M. Pour-mont - would have preferred a more sociable man. His was a lonely life. He loved - talk—even in broken English—for its own sake. He had, himself, - vivacity and humor. And it was a disappointment that this Brachey didn't - know <i>Çhambertin</i> from <i>vin ordinaire</i>, and cared little for - either. - </p> - <p> - Little Miss Doane touched his heart, she was so pretty, so quick in her - bright graceful way, yet so white and sad. But always brave, as if - sustained by inner faith. She asked at once to be put to work, and quickly - adapted herself to the atmosphere of Mme. Pourmont's workroom in the - residence, where Madarhe's two daughters and the English trained nurse - were busy directing the Chinese sewing women.... It transpired that the - Mrs. Boatwright who was in charge at the mission had refused to save - herself and those in her charge, so the Mademoiselle had come on - independently. This, thought M. Pourmont, showed a courage and enterprise - suggestive of her father. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat night M. - Pourmont telegraphed Elmer Boatwright confirming the news of Doane's - death, and urging an immediate attempt to get through to Ping Yang. - </p> - <p> - On the preceding day he had sent a party of twelve men, white and Chinese, - in command of an Australian engineer, to Shau T'ing, on the Eastern - Border, to get the supplies that had been shipped down from Peking. These - men returned on the following day; and among the cases and bales of - supplies borne on the long train of carts they guarded were the bodies of - two dead Chinese and a Russian youth with a bullet in his throat. - </p> - <p> - News came then that a large force of Lookers had started in an easterly - direction from Hung Chan. And Boatwright wired that the mission party was - at last under way, seven whites and fifty natives. - </p> - <p> - M. Pourmont at once sent a party of forty mounted men westward along the - highway, commanded by an Englishman named Swain. This small force fought a - pitched battle with the Looker band that had been evaded by Brachey, - suffering several casualties. A native was sent on ahead, riding all - night, with a note to Boatwright advising great haste. But it was - difficult for the mission party to travel with any speed, as it had been - found impossible to secure horses or carts for many of the Chinese - converts, and not one of the missionaries would consent to leave these - charges behind. It became necessary therefore for Swain to move a - half-day's march farther west than had been intended. He joined the - missionaries shortly after the advance guard of the Western Lookers had - begun an attack on the inn compound. Already six or seven of the secondary - Christians had been dragged out and shot or burned to death when Swain led - his white and yellow troopers in among them, shooting right and left. - There must have been several hundred of the Lookers; but they amounted to - little more than a disorganized mob, and as soon as they found their - comrades falling around them, screaming in agony and fright, they threw - away their rifles and fled. - </p> - <p> - Swain at once ordered out the entire mission company, mounted as many as - possible of the frightened fugitives on the horses of his troop, and with - such extra carts as he could commandeer in the village for his wounded, - himself and his uninjured men on foot, he pushed rapidly hack toward Ping - Yang. The few Chinese who lagged were left in native houses. The horses - that fell were dragged off the road and shot. - </p> - <p> - This man Swain, though he concerns us in this narrative only incidentally, - was one of a not unfamiliar type on the China coast. He was hardly thirty - years of age, a blond Briton, handsome, athletic, evidently a man of some - education and breeding. He had once spoken of serving as a subaltern in - the Boer War. A slightly elusive reputation as a Shanghai gambler had - floated after him to Ping Yang. He was at times a hard drinker, as his - lined face indicated, faint, purplish markings already forming a fine - network under the skin of his nose. His blue eyes were always slightly - bloodshot. He never spoke of his own people. And it had been noted that - after a few drinks he was fond of quoting Kipling's <i>The Lost Legion</i>. - Yet on this little expedition, unknown to the archives of any war - department, Swain proved himself a hero. He brought all but twelve of the - fifty-seven mission folk and eight of his own wounded safely to Ping Yang, - leaving three of his Chinese buried back there. And himself sustained a - bullet wound through the flesh of his left forearm and a severe knife cut - on the left hand.... The drift of opinion among respectable people along - Bubbling Well Road in Shanghai, as here in Ping Yang, was that Swain would - hardly do. Certain of these mission folk, in particular Miss Hemphill, - whose philosophy of life could hardly be termed comprehensive, were later - to find their mental attitude toward their rescuer somewhat perplexing. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p> - Though she evidently tried to be quiet about it, Mrs. Boatwright's first - act was troublesome. She had been taken in, of course, with the other - white women, by the Pourmonts; in the big house. Here the principal three - of them—Dr. Cassin on her one hand and Miss Hemphill on the other—were - put down at the dinner table on that first evening directly opposite - Betty. Miss Hemphill flushed a little, bit her lip, then inclined her head - with what was clearly enough meant to be distant courtesy. Dr. Cassin, - already too deeply occupied with her wounded to waste thought on merely - personal matters, bowed coolly. But Mrs. Boatwright stared firmly past the - girl at the screen of carved wood that stood behind her. - </p> - <p> - Betty bent her head over her plate. She had of course dreaded this first - encounter; all of her courage had been called on to bring her into the - dining-room; but her own sense of personal loss and injury had lately been - so overshadowed by the growing tragedy in which they were dwelling that - she had forgotten with what complete cruelty and consistency this woman's - stern sense of character could function. She had lost, too, in the - mounting sober beauty of her love for Brachey, any lingering sense of - wrong-doing. Here at Ping Yang Brachey commanded, she knew triumphantly, - the respect of the little community. - </p> - <p> - They were thinking, he and she, only at moments of themselves. Indeed, - days passed without a stolen half-hour together. She gloried in her - knowledge that he would neglect no smallest duty to indulge his emotions - in companionship with her; nor would she neglect duty for him........And - the people here were all so kind to her, so friendly! The presence of this - grim personally was an intrusion. - </p> - <p> - After dinner Mrs. Boatwright went directly to M. Pourmont in his study and - told him that it would be necessary for her to sleep and eat in another - building. She would give no reasons, nor would she in any pleasant way - soften her demand. Accordingly, the Pourmonts, always courteous, always - cheerful, made at once a new arrangement in the crowded compound. Some of - the Australian young men were turned out into a tent; and the Boatwrights, - accompanied by their assistants, were settled by midnight in the smaller - building immediately adjoining the residence. Mr. Boatwright protested a - little to his wife, but was silenced. All he could do was to make some - extreme effort to treat the Pourmonts with courtesy. - </p> - <p> - And so Betty, when in the morning she again mustered her courage to enter - the dining-room, found them gone. And instantly she knew why... . She - couldn't eat. All day forlorn, her mind a cavern of shadows, she put - herself in the way of meeting Brachey, but did not find him until late in - the afternoon. He was coming in then from the outworks up the hill. She - stood waiting just within the gate. - </p> - <p> - They had been thinking constantly, since the one misunderstanding, of the - cablegram that would announce his freedom. In his eagerness he had - expected to find it waiting at Ping Yang. Day after day native runners got - through to the telegraph station and brought messages for others... To - Betty now it seemed the one thing that could arm her against the stern - judgment in Mrs. Boatwright's eyes. - </p> - <p> - Brachey's knickerbockers and stockings were red with mud. He wore a canvas - shooting coat of M. Pourmont. He was lean, strong, quick of tread. - </p> - <p> - They drew aside, into a corner of the wall of sandbags. She saw the - momentary light in his tired eyes when they rested on her; gravely - beautiful eyes she thought them. Her fingers caught his sleeve; her eyes - timidly searched his face, and read an answer there to the question in her - heart. - </p> - <p> - “You haven't heard?” - </p> - <p> - He slowly shook his head. “No, dear, not yet.” - </p> - <p> - Her gaze wavered away from him “It's got to come,” he added. “It isn't as - if there weren't a positive understanding.” - </p> - <p> - “I know,” she murmured, but without conviction. “Of course. It's got to - come.” - </p> - <p> - They were silent a moment. - </p> - <p> - “I—I'll go back to the house,” she breathed, then. “Keep strong, - dear,” said he very gently. - </p> - <p> - “I know. I will. It's helped, just seeing you.” - </p> - <p> - Then she was gone. - </p> - <p> - As he looked after her, his heart full of a gloomy beauty, he longed to - call her back and in some way restore her confidence. But the appearance - of the mission folk had shaken him, as well, this day. The mere presence - of Mrs. Boatwright in the compound was suddenly again a living force. Up - there on the hillside, driving his native workmen through the long hot - hours, he had faced unnerving thoughts. For Mrs. Boatwright had brought - him out of the glamour of his love; she, that sense of her, if merely by - stirring his mind to resentment and resistance, restored for the time his - keen logical faculty. He saw again clearly the mission compound at - T'ainan-fu. And he saw Griggsby Doane—huge, strong, the face that - might so easily be tender, working with passion in the softly flickering - light from a Chinese lamp. - </p> - <p> - He had given Griggsby Doane a pledge as solemn as one man can give - another. He had, because Doane was so suddenly dead, broken that pledge. - But now he knew, coldly, clearly, that of material proof that Doane was - dead neither he nor M. Pourmont nor these difficult folk from T'ainan held - a shred. - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p> - Early on the following morning—at about three o'clock—a small - shell exploded in the compound. Within five minutes two others fell - outside the walls. - </p> - <p> - At once the open spaces within the walls were filled with Chinese, none - fully dressed, talking, shouting, wailing. Among them, a moment later, - moved white men, cartridge pouches and revolvers hastily slung on, rifles - in hand, quietly ordering them back to their quarters and themselves - taking positions along the walls. The crews of the two machine guns - promptly joined the sentries in the redoubts. M. Pourmont went about - calmly, pleasantly, supervising the final preparations. Two small parties, - one led by Swain, the other by Brachey, went up the hillside to the men in - the rifle pits there. A few trusted natives slipped out on scouting - expeditions. - </p> - <p> - As the first faint color appeared in the eastern sky, and the darkness - slowly gave way through the morning twilight to the young day, the walls - were lined with anxious faces. Strained eyes peered up and down the - hillside for the first glimpse of the enemy. Surmises and conjectures flew - from lip to lip—the attackers were thousands strong; American, - French and English troops were already on the way down from Peking; no - troops could be spared; such a relieving party had already been - intercepted and driven back as McCalla had been driven back in 1900; the - Shau T'ing bridge was down, the telegraph lines were broken, old Kang had - beheaded Pao and seized the entire provincial government, was, indeed, in - personal command here at Ping Yang. So the rumors ran. - </p> - <p> - Daylight spread slowly over the hillside. Far up among the native houses - and down near the village groups of strange figures could be seen moving - about. They wore a uniform much like that the Boxers had worn, except that - coat and trousers were alike red and only the turban yellow. At intervals - shells fell here and there about the walls. - </p> - <p> - Back in his study in the residence M. Pourmont, by breakfast time, had - reports from several of his scouts and was able to sift the rumors down to - a basis of fact. Several thousand Lookers were already in the neighborhood - and others were on the way. The Shau T'ing bridge was gone, and it was - true that the local shen magistrate had been cut off from telegraphic - communication with the outside world. And Kang was at the moment - establishing headquarters five <i>li</i> to the westward. - </p> - <p> - The entrenched parties up the hillside lay unseen and unheard in their - trenches, awaiting the signal to fire. The compound was still now. - Breakfast was carried about to the men on duty. - </p> - <p> - Toward nine o'clock considerable activity was noted up the hill, beyond - the outposts. Several squads of the red and yellow figures appeared in the - open apparently digging out a level emplacement on the steep hillside. - Then a small field gun was dragged into view from behind a native compound - wall and set in position. The distance was hardly more than two hundred - yards; they meant to fire point-blank. - </p> - <p> - M. Pourmont went out to the upper redoubt and studied the scene through - field-glasses. The men begged permission to fire, but the bearded French - engineer ordered them to wait. - </p> - <p> - The little red and yellow men were a long time at their preparations. They - moved about as if confident that no white man's eyes could discern them. - Finally they gathered back of the gun. There was some further delay. Then - the gun was fired, and a shell whirred over the compound and on across the - valley, exploding against the opposite hillside, near a temple, in a cloud - of smoke and red dust. - </p> - <p> - There was still another wait. Then a shell carried away part of a chimney - of the residence. The sound of distant cheers floated down-hill on the - soft breeze. The little men clustered about the gun. - </p> - <p> - M. Puurmont lowered his glasses and nodded. The machine gun opened fire, - spraying its stream of bullets directly on the crowded figures. - </p> - <p> - To the men standing and kneeling in the redoubt the scene, despite the - rattle of the gun and the wisps of smoke curling about them and the - choking smell, was one of impersonal calm. The Australian working the gun - was quietly methodical about it. The crowded figures up the hill seemed to - sit or lie down deliberately enough. Others appeared to be moving away - slowly toward the houses, though when M. Pourmont gave them a look through - his glasses it became evident that their legs were moving rapidly. Soon - all who could get away were gone, leaving several heaped-up mounds of red - near the gun and smaller dots of red scattered along the path of the - retreat. With a few scattering shots the Australian sat back on his heels - and glanced up at M. Pourmont. “Heats up pretty fast,” he remarked - casually, indicating the machine gun. - </p> - <h3> - 5 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> shout, sounded up - the hill. All turned. Swain had mounted to the parapet of his rifle pit - and was waving his rifle. His half dozen men, white and Chinese, followed, - all shouting now. Over to the right, from the other pit, the lean figure - of Jonathan Brachey appeared, followed by others. Then they started up the - hillside. Like the retreating Lookers they seemed to move very slowly; but - the glasses made it clear that they were running and scrambling feverishly - up the slope, fourteen of them, pausing only at intervals to fire toward - the houses, where a few puffs of white smoke appeared. - </p> - <p> - They reached the Chinese sun, turned it around and, five or six of them, - began running it down-hill. The others lingered, clustering together. A - shot from one of the red heaps was met by a blow of a clubbed rifle; that - was seen by the Australian through the glasses. There were more shots from - the compound walls beyond. - </p> - <p> - The Australian quietly returned the glasses to his chief, sighted along - his machine gun, and sprayed bullets along those walls, first to the left - of the raiding party, then, very carefully, to the right. - </p> - <p> - M. Pourmont descended to the compound and ordered a party of coolies out - with wheelbarrows. These began mounting the slope, obediently, painfully. - The raiders dropped behind the little heaps of dead and waited. To the - many watching eyes along the wall it seemed as if those deliberate coolies - would never end their climb; inch by inch they seemed to move. Even the - more rapidly moving gun, descending the slope, seemed to crawl. When it - did at length draw near, the eager observers noted that the men handling - it were all Chinese; the whites had stayed up there. Swain was there, and - Brachey, and the others. - </p> - <p> - Betty witnessed the scene from an upper window of the residence with Mme. - Pourmont and her daughters. She heard the rat-tat-tat of the machine gun; - through a pair of glasses she saw the red-clad Lookers fall, all without - clearly realizing that this was battle and death. It seemed a calm enough - picture. But when Brachey started up the hill her heart stopped. - </p> - <p> - More and more slowly, as the climb told on the porters, the barrows moved - up the slope; but at last they reached their destination. Then all worked - like ants about them. Within ten minutes all were back in the compound - creaking and squealing, each on its high center wheel, under the loads of - shells. - </p> - <p> - Betty watched Brachey through the glasses. Naively she assumed that he - would return to her after passing through such danger. And when she saw - him drop casually into the little pit on the hillside it seemed to her - that she couldn't wait out the day. Now that she had watched him leading - his men straight into mortal danger—had so nearly, in her own heart, - lost him—she began to sense the terrible power of love. All that had - gone before in this strange relationship of theirs seemed like the play of - children beside her present sense of him as her other self. Indeed the - danger seemed now to be—she thought of it, in lucid moments, as a - danger—that she should cease to care about outside opinion. Her - heart throbbed with pride in him. - </p> - <p> - At dusk the outposts were relieved. When Brachey entered the gate, Betty - was there, waiting, a tremulous smile hovering about her tender little - mouth and about her misty eyes. - </p> - <p> - He paused, in surprise and pleasure. She gave him a hand, hesitantly, then - the other; then, impulsively, her arms went around his neck.... His men - straggled wearily past, their day's work done. Not one looked back. She - was almost sorry, for that and for the dusk. Arm in arm they entered the - compound and walked to the steps of the residence. - </p> - <p> - That night, three shells struck within the compound. One wrecked a corner - of Mme. Pourmont's kitchen. Another carried away a section of galvanized - iron roof and killed a horse. The third destroyed a tent, killing a - Chinese woman and wounding a man and two girls. Thus, before morning, Dr. - Cassam and her helpers were at the grim business of patching and restoring - the piteous debris of war. - </p> - <p> - By daylight the red and yellow' lines were closed about the compound. - Shells roared by at intervals all day, and bullets rattled against the - walls. The upper windows of the residence were barricaded now with - sand-bags. Five more were wounded during the day, two of them white. Enemy - trenches appeared, above and below the compound. During the following - night M. Pourmont set a considerable force of men at work running a sap - out to the rifle pits, and digging in other outposts on the lower slope. - His night runners moved with difficulty, but brought in reports of feasts - and orgies at Kang's headquarters down the valley, where, surrounded by - his full retinue, the old Manchu was preparing to revel in slaughter. As - the days passed, the sense of danger grew deeper; the faces one saw about - the compound wore a dogged expression. An armed guard stood over the - storehouses, men were killed and wounded, and women and children. They - talked, heavily where the casual was intended, of settling down to a - siege. They spoke of other, larger sieges; of Mafeking and Ladysmith of - recent memory. But no one, now, mentioned the prospects of early relief. - One night Mr. Po went out with a Chinese soldier on a scouting trip; and - neither returned. On the following night, one of the Wei Hai Wei men was - sent. At daybreak they found his head, wrapped in a cloth, just inside the - gate. The enemy had crept close enough, despite the outposts, to toss it - over the wall... After this, for a time, no word went out or came in. - </p> - <h3> - 6 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>lmer Boatwright - slept alone in a small room; his wife, Miss Hemphill and Dr. Cassin - occupied a large room in the same building. One night, tossing on his cot, - the prey of nightmares, Boatwright started up, cold with sweat, and sat - shivering in the dark room. Outside sounded the pop—pop, pop—of - the snipers. But there was another sound that had crashed in among the - familiar noises of his dreams. - </p> - <p> - It came again—a light tapping at his door. He tried to get his - breath; then tried to call out, “Who is it?” But his voice came only in a - whisper. - </p> - <p> - It wasn't his wife; she wouldn't have knocked. He had not before been - disturbed at night; it would mean something serious, nothing good. It - could mean nothing good. - </p> - <p> - Elmer Boatwright was by no means a simple coward. He rose, shivering with - this strange sense of cold; struck a light; and candle in hand advanced to - the door. Here, for a moment he waited. - </p> - <p> - Again the tapping sounded. - </p> - <p> - He opened the door; and beheld, dimly outlined in the shadowy hall, clad - in rags, face seamed and haggard, eyes staring out of deep hollows, the - gigantic frame of Griggsby Doane, leaning on his old walking stick. He was - hatless, and his hair was matted. A stubble of beard covered the lower - half of his face. His left shoulder, under the torn coat, was bandaged - with the caked, bloodstained remnant of his shirt. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII—THE DARK - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>lmer Boatwrights - chin sagged a little way. For a long moment he stood motionless, making no - sound; then, without change of expression on his gray thin face, he moved - with a slow gliding motion backward, backward, until his knees struck the - bed; and stood, bent forward, his palsied hand tipping the candle so far - that the hot tallow splashed in white drops on the matting. - </p> - <p> - Slowly the giant figure stirred, straightened up, came slowly into the - room; closed the door, leaned back against it. - </p> - <p> - Then Boatwright spoke, slowly, huskily: - </p> - <p> - “It—it is you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” It was plainly an effort for Doane to speak. “But—but I don't - see how you could have got through.” - </p> - <p> - “Men do get through now and then.” Doane spoke with the quick irritability - of the man whose powers of nervous resistance have been tried to the - uttermost. - </p> - <p> - “You're wounded. You must be tired.” Boatwright was quite incoherent. - “You'd better lie down. Here—take my bed! How did you ever find me? - How did you get in in the first place?” - </p> - <p> - “I'll sit for a moment.” Duane lowered himself painfully to the bed. - “Betty is here?” - </p> - <p> - “Betty? Oh, yes! We're all safe.” - </p> - <p> - “Where is she?” - </p> - <p> - “I—I don't know exactly.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't <i>know!</i>” - </p> - <p> - “Why, Madame Pourmont has been caring for her.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean that she is ill?” - </p> - <p> - “No. Oh, no! One moment. You've been hurt. I must tell the others. You - must have attention at once. Mary Cassin is right here—and my wife.” - The little man moved to the door. His color was returning now; he was - talking rapidly, out of a confused mind. “You must have had a terrible - time.” - </p> - <p> - “They left me for dead at the Hung Chan Gate. I crawled to the house of a - convert.” Doane's great eyes, staring out of shadowy hollows, burned with - tragic memories. Those eyes held Boatwright fascinated; he shivered - slightly. “As soon as I felt able to travel I started toward T'ainan. - Several of our native people came with me, walking at night, biding by - day. On the way we learned that you had left. So I came here. I must see - Betty.” - </p> - <p> - “But not like this,” the little man blurted out. Doane's eyes wandered - down over his muddy tattered clothing. - </p> - <p> - “I'll call the others first,” said Boatwright He set down his candle on - the wash-stand, just inside the door, and slipped out. - </p> - <p> - Doane sat erect, without moving. His eyes stared at the candle and at the - grotesque wavering shadows of the wash-howl and pitcher on the wall. At - each small night sound he started nervously—the scratching of a - mouse, a voice in the compound, a distant sputter of shots. - </p> - <p> - Boatwright slipped back into the room. - </p> - <p> - “They're coming,” he said breathlessly. “In a minute. Mary sleeps in most - of her clothes anyway, these days.” - </p> - <p> - “What is it about Betty?” Doane asked sharply. - </p> - <p> - “Oh—she's quite all right. We don't see much of her, not being in - the same house. We're all pretty busy here, these days. It's an ugly time. - I—I was just wondering. I don't know what we can dress you in. You - could hardly wear my things. One of the Australians is nearly as big as - you. Perhaps in the morning...” - </p> - <p> - His voice had risen a little, nearly to the querulous, as he hurriedly - drew on his outer clothing. From the way his eyes wandered about the room - it appeared that his thoughts had run far afield. And he was clumsy about - the buttons. Even the intensely preoccupied Doane became aware of this, - and for a moment studied him with a puzzled look. - </p> - <p> - The little man's tongue ran on. “Mary'll fix you up for now. Sleep'll be - the best thing. In the morning you can use my shaving things. And I'll - look up that Australian.... There they are!” - </p> - <p> - He hurried to the door. Dr. Cassin came in, greeted - </p> - <p> - Griggsby Doane with a warm hand-clasp, and at once examined his shoulder. - Boatwright she sent over to the dispensary for bandages. - </p> - <p> - A moment later Mrs. Boatwright appeared, her strong person wrapped in a - quilted robe. - </p> - <p> - “This is a great relief,” she said. “We had given you up.” - </p> - <p> - Duane's eyes fastened eagerly on this woman. - </p> - <p> - “Have you sent word to Betty?” he asked quickly. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright looked at him for a moment, without replying, then moved - deliberately to the window. - </p> - <p> - “Please don't move,” cautioned Dr. Cassin, who was working on his - shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Have you sent word?” Doane shot the question after Mrs. Boatwright. - </p> - <p> - There was no reply. - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” cried Doane then. - </p> - <p> - “If you please!” said Dr. Cassin. - </p> - <p> - “Something is wrong! What is it?” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright was standing squarely before the window now, looking out - into the dark courtyard. - </p> - <p> - “What is it? Tell me! Is she here?” - </p> - <p> - “Really, Mr Doane”—thus the physician—“I can not work if you - move. Yes, she is here.” - </p> - <p> - “But why do you act in this strange way?” - </p> - <p> - Dr. Cassin compressed her lips. All her working adult life had been spent - under the direction of this man. Never before had she seen him in the - slightest degree beaten down. She had never even seen him tired. In her - steady, objective mind he stood for unshakable, enduring strength. But - now, twitching nervously under her firm hands, staring out of feverish - eyes after the uncompromising woman by the window, his huge frame - emaciated, spent with loss of blood, with suffering and utter physical and - nervous exhaustion, he had reached, she knew', at last, the limits of his - great strength. He had, perhaps, even passed those limits; for there was a - morbid condition evident in him, he seemed not wholly sane, as if the - trials he had passed through had been too great for his iron will, or as - if there was something else, some consuming fire in him, burning secretly - but strongly, out of control. All this she saw and felt. His temperature - was not dangerously high, slightly more than two degrees above normal. His - pulse was rapid, but no weaker than was to be expected. Worry might - explain it; worry for them all, but particularly for Betty. Though she - found this diagnosis not wholly satisfactory. Of course it might be, after - all, nothing more than exhaustion. Sleep was the first thing. After that - it would be a simpler matter to study his case. - </p> - <p> - Then, starling up suddenly, wrenching himself free from her skilful hands, - Doane stood over her, staring past her at the woman by the window'. - </p> - <p> - “Will you please go to Betty,” he said, in a voice that trembled with - feeling, “and tell her that I am here. Wake her. She must know at once. - And try to prepare her mind—she mustn't see me first like this.” - </p> - <p> - There was a breathless pause. Then Mrs. Boatwright turned and moved - deliberately toward the door. Then she paused. - </p> - <p> - “You'll see her?” cried the father. “At once?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” replied Mrs. Boatwright. “No. I am sorry. I would like to spare you - pain at this time, Griggsby Doane. But I do not feel that I can see her. - I'll tell you though, what I will do. I'll tell Monsieur Pourmont.” And - she went out. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>he was closing the - door when it abruptly opened. Elmer Boatwright stood there, looking after - his wife as she went along the dark hallway. He came in then. - </p> - <p> - “I brought the bandages,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “You must sit down again,” said the physician. - </p> - <p> - Doane, evidently bewildered, obeyed. And she began bandaging his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - He even sat quietly. He seemed to be making a determined effort to control - his thoughts. When he finally spoke he seemed almost his old self. - </p> - <p> - “Elmer, something is wrong with Betty. Whatever it is, I have a right to - know.” - </p> - <p> - Boatwright cleared his throat. - </p> - <p> - Dr. Cassin broke the silence that followed. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Doane,” she said, “sit still here and try to listen to what I am - going to tell you. We have been disturbed about Betty. I won't attempt to - conceal that. This Mr. Brachey—” - </p> - <p> - “Brachey? Is he—” - </p> - <p> - “Please! You must keep quiet!” - </p> - <p> - “But what is it? Tell me—now!” - </p> - <p> - “I'm trying to. Mr. Brachey came to the compound the morning after you - left—” - </p> - <p> - “But he gave me his word!” - </p> - <p> - “You really must let me tell this in my own way. He brought the news of - your death. He had it from Pao's yamen. He demanded that we all leave - T'ainan at once, with him. If he gave you his word, it is probable that he - regarded your death as a release. Well....” For a moment she bent silently - over her task of bandaging. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. Tell me?” Doane's voice was quieter still. More and more, to - Boatwright, who stood by the wash-stand lingering a towel, he looked, - felt, like the old Griggsby Doane... except his eyes; they were fixed - intently on the matting; they were wide open, staring open. - </p> - <p> - “Well... Mrs. Boatwright felt that it was not yet the time to go. She - distrusted this man. So we stayed a few days longer.” - </p> - <p> - “You are not telling me.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. I am coming to it. Betty... Betty felt that she couldn't let him go - alone.” - </p> - <p> - In a hushed, almost a reflective voice Doane asked: “So she came with - him?” - </p> - <p> - Dr. Cassin bowed. Elmer Boatwright bowed. Doane glanced up briefly, and - took them in; then his gaze centered again on the matting. - </p> - <p> - “And they are here now?” - </p> - <p> - “Betty is staying with Madame Pourmont. Mr. Brachey is living in a tent.” - </p> - <p> - “Where? What tent?” - </p> - <p> - Elmer Boatwright did not wait to hear this question answered, or the rush - of other palliative phrases that were pressing nervously on the tip of Dr - Cas-sin's not unsympathetic tongue. Never had he heard the quiet menace in - Griggsby Doane's voice that was in it as he almost calmly uttered those - three words, “Where? What tent?” He could nut himself think clearly; his - mind was a blur of fears and nervous impulses. Doane wasn't normal; that - was plain. Dr. Cassin's bare announcement was a blow so severe that even - as he framed that tense question he was struggling to control the blind - wild forces that were ravaging that giant frame of his. Once wholly out of - control, he might do anything. He might kill Brachey. Yes, easily that! It - was in his eyes.... And so, without a plan, all confused impulses, Elmer - Boatwright slipped out, closing the door behind him. On the outer sill of - the little building he paused, trying desperately to think; but, failing - in this effort, harried through the night to Brachey's tent. - </p> - <p> - He was, of course, far from understanding himself. It was a moment in - which no small dogmatic mind, once touched by the illogic of merely human - sympathy, could hope to understand itself. Though he and Brachey were - barely speaking, he had watched the man during the capture of the Chinese - gun and ammunition. And since that incident he had observed that Brachey - was steadily winning the respect of all in the compound. The confusing - thought was that a sinner could do that. For he believed, with his wife, - and Miss Hemphill, that Brachey and Betty had sinned. Dr. Cassin had been - more guarded in her judgment but probably she believed it, too. Sin, of - course, to what may without unpleasant connotation be termed the - professionally religious mind, is a definite, really a technical fact. In - the faith of the Boatwrights it could be atoned only by an inner - conviction followed by the blessing of the Holy Spirit. No mere good - conduct, no merely admirable human qualities, could save the sinner. And - neither Betty nor Brachey had shown the slightest sign of the regenerative - process. In Mrs. Boatwright's judgment, therefore, since she was a woman - of utter humorless logic, of unconquerable faith in conscience, the two - stood condemned. But her husband, in this time of tragic stress, was - discovering certain merely human qualities that were bound to prove - disconcerting to his professed philosophy. He wanted, now, to help - Brachey; and yet, as he ran through courtyard after courtyard, he couldn't - wholly subdue certain strong misgivings as to what his wife might think if - she knew. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>efore the tent he - hesitated. The flap was tied; he shook it, with a trembling hand. He - heard, then, the steady breathing of the man within. He tried knocking on - the pole, through the canvas, but without effect on the sleeper. Then, - with a curious sensation of guilt, he reached in and untied the flap, - above, then below; and passed cautiously in. The night was warm. Brachey - lay uncovered, dressed, as Boatwright saw when he struck a match to make - certain of his man, in all but coat, collar and shoes. - </p> - <p> - Boatwright blew out the match. For another moment he stood wondering at - himself; then laid a hand on the sleeper's shoulder. Brachey started up - instantly; swung his feet to the floor; said in a surprisingly alert, - cautious voice: - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” - </p> - <p> - “It's Elmer Boatwright.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” was Brachey's reply to this. He quietly lighted the candle that - stood on a small table by the head of his cut. Then he added the single - word, “Well?” - </p> - <p> - “I have come on a peculiar errand, Mr. Brachey...” Boatwright was fumbling - for words. - </p> - <p> - “Yes?” - </p> - <p> - “There is little time for talk. A queer situation... let me say this—when - you came to the mission and asked us to leave T'ainan with you it was - under the supposition that Griggsby Doane was dead.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.... You mean that now... that the news was inaccurate?” - </p> - <p> - Boatwright inclined his head. - </p> - <p> - “He is alive, then?” - </p> - <p> - Another bow. - </p> - <p> - “Where is he?” - </p> - <p> - “Well... it is... I must ask you to consider the situation calmly. It is - difficult.” - </p> - <p> - Boatwright felt the man's eyes on him, coolly surveying him. It did seem a - bit absurd to be cautioning this strange being to be calm. Had he ever - been otherwise? Here he was, roused abruptly from slumber, listening, and - looking, like a judge. He said now with quick understanding: - </p> - <p> - “He is here?” - </p> - <p> - Boatwright's head inclined. - </p> - <p> - “How did he ever get through?” - </p> - <p> - “We haven't heard the details yet. There's so much else.... I want to make - it plain to you that he isn't altogether himself. He has evidently been - through a terrible experience. He was wounded. He has some fever now, I - believe.... Let me put it this way. He has just now learned that you are - here—-that you—” - </p> - <p> - “That I brought his daughter here?” The remark was cool, clear, decisive. - </p> - <p> - “Well—yes. Now please understand me. He isn't himself. The news - shocked him. I could see that. My suggestion is—well, that you move - over to the residence for the rest of the night.” - </p> - <p> - “Why?” - </p> - <p> - “You see—Mr. Doane asked where you might be found, in what tent. He - has had no time to reflect over the situation. His present mood is—well, - as I said, not normal. I've thought that to-morrow—after he has - slept—some—we can prevail on him to consider it calmly.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean that he may attack me?” - </p> - <p> - “Well—yes. It's quite possible. Monsieur Pour-mont would take you in - now. I'm sure. In the morning you'll be back in your trenches. That will - give us time to...” - </p> - <p> - His voice died out. His gaze anxiously followed Brachey's movements. The - man had buttoned on his collar, and was knotting his tie before the little - square mirror that hung on the rear tent-pole. Next he brushed his hair. - Then he got into his coat. And then he discovered that he was in his - stocking feet. That bit of absent-mindedness was the only sign he gave of - excitement. - </p> - <p> - “If I might suggest that you hurry a little,” thus Boatwright... “it's - possible that he's on his way here now.” - </p> - <p> - “Who?” asked Brachey coolly, raising his head. “Oh—you mean Doane.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. I really think—” - </p> - <p> - Brachey waved him to be still. He moved to the tent opening, peered out - into the night, then turned and looked straight at his caller, slightly - pursing his lips. - </p> - <p> - “Where is Mr. Doane?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “He was in my room. But you're not—you don't mean—” - </p> - <p> - “I'm going to see him, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “But that's impossible. He may kill you.” - </p> - <p> - “What has that to do with it?” - </p> - <p> - This blunt question proved difficult to meet. Boatwright found himself - saying, rather weakly, “I'm sure everything can be explained later.” - </p> - <p> - “The time to explain is now.” - </p> - <p> - With this, and a slight added sound that might have been an indication of - impatience, Brachey strode out. - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or a moment - Boatwright stood in the paralysis of fright; then, catching his breath, he - ran out after this strangely resolute man; quickly caught up with him, but - found himself ignored. He even talked—incoherently—as his - short legs tried to keep pace with the swift long stride of the other. He - didn't himself know what he was saying. Nor did he stop when Brachey's arm - moved as if to brush him off; though he perhaps had been clinging to that - arm. - </p> - <p> - Brachey stopped, looking about. - </p> - <p> - “This is the house, isn't it?” he remarked; then turned in toward the - steps. - </p> - <p> - The door burst open then, and a huge shadowy figure plunged out. A woman's - voice followed: “I must ask you to please come back, Mr. Doane. Really, if - you—” - </p> - <p> - At the name—“Mr. Doane”—Brachey stopped short (one foot was - already on the first of the three or four steps) and stiffened, his - shoulders drawn back, his head high, Doane, too, stopped, peering down. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Doane,” said the younger man, firmly but perhaps in a slightly louder - tone than was necessary, “I am Jonathan Brachey.” - </p> - <p> - A hush fell on the group of them—Brachey waiting at the bottom step, - Boatwright just behind him. Dr. Cassin barely visible in the shadows of - the porch, silhouetted faintly against the light of a candle somewhere - within, and Griggsby Doane staring down in astonishment at the man who - stood looking straight up at him. - </p> - <p> - Brachey apparently was about to speak again. Perhaps he did begin. - Boatwright found it impossible afterward to explain in precise detail just - what took place. But the one clear fact was that Doane, with an - exclamation that was not a word, seemed to leap down the steps, waving his - stick about his head. There was the sound of a few heavy blows; and then - Brachey lay huddled in a heap on the the walk, and Doane stood over him, - breathing very hard.. - </p> - <p> - Dr. Cassin hurried down the steps and knelt lie-side the silent figure - there. To Elmer Boatwright she said, briskly: “My medicine case is in your - room. Bring it at once, please? And bring water.” - </p> - <p> - Boatwright vaguely recalled, afterward, that he muttered, “I beg your - pardon,” as he finished past Doane and ran up the steps. And he heard the - sound of some, one running heavily toward them. - </p> - <p> - When he came out the scene was curiously changed. - </p> - <p> - Some of the natives were there, and one or two whites. An iron lantern - with many perforations to let out the candle-light stood on the tiles. One - of the Chinese held another. Dr. Cassin was seated on the ground examining - a wound on Brachey's scalp; and the man himself was struggling back toward - consciousness, moving his arms restlessly, and muttering. - </p> - <p> - But the voice that dominated the little group that stood awkwardly about - was the voice of M. Pourmont. - </p> - <p> - Doane had sunk down on the steps, his head in his hands. And over him, - somewhat out of breath, gesturing emphatically with raised forefinger, the - engineer was speaking as follows: - </p> - <p> - “Monsieur Doane, it gives me ze great plaisir to know zat you do not die. - To you here I offair ze vel-come viz all my 'eart. But zis I mus' say. It - is here <i>la guerre</i>. It is I who am here ze commandair. An' I now' - comman' you, Alonsieur Doane, zer mus' be here no more of ze mattair - personel. We here fight togezzer, as one, not viz each ozzer. You have - made ze attack on a gentleman zat mus' be spare' to us, a gentleman ver' - strong, ver' brave, who fear nozzing at all. It is not pairmit' zat you - make 'arm at Monsieur Brashayee. Zis man is one I need. It is on 'im zat I - lean.” - </p> - <p> - Here Boatwright found himself breaking in, all eagerness, all nerves: - </p> - <p> - “If you had only known how it was! Mr. Brachey insisted on coming straight - to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Monsieur Boatright, if you please! I mus' have here ze quiet! Monsieur - Doane, you vill go at once to bed. It is so I order you. Go at once to - bed!” Doane slowly lifted his head and looked at M. Pour-munt. “Very - well,” he said quietly. “You are right, of course.” On these last few - words his voice broke, but he at once recovered control of it. He rose, - with an effort, moved a few slow steps, hesitated, then got painfully down - on one knee beside the limp groaning figure on the walk. He looked - directly at Dr. Cassin, as he said: - </p> - <p> - “Is he badly hurt?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't think so,” replied the physician simply, wholly herself. “The - skull doesn't seem to be fractured. We may find some concussion, of - course.” Doane's breath whistled convulsively inward. He knelt there, - silent, watching the deft fingers work. Then he said—under his - breath, but audibly enough: “What an awful thing to do! What a terrible - thing to do!” And got up. - </p> - <p> - Boatwright hurried to help him. - </p> - <p> - “I'll go with you, Elmer,” said Doane. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX—LIVING THROUGH - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Griggsby Doane - moved, pain shot through his lame muscle. A vaguely heavy anxiety clouded - his brain, engaged as it still was with the specters of confusedly ugly - dreams. - </p> - <p> - The speckled area overhead was gradually coming clear; it appeared to be a - plastered ceiling, very small; a little cell of a place... oh, yes, Elmer - Boatwright's room! - </p> - <p> - Faintly through the open window at the foot of the bed came the sound of a - distant, shot; another; a rattle of them. And other, nearer shots. Then a - slow whistling shriek and a crash. Then the rattle of a machine gun, quite - clear. Then a lull. - </p> - <p> - He sensed a presence; felt rather than heard low breathing; with an effort - that was as much of the will as of the body he turned his head. - </p> - <p> - Betty was sitting there, close by the bed, gently smiling. Almost - painfully his slow eyes took her in. She bent over and kissed him, then - her little hand nestled in his big one. They talked a little; he in a - natural enough manner, if very grave, spoke of his joy in finding her - safe. But as he spoke his mind, not yet wholly awake, took on a morbid - activity. Did she know what he had done in the night? Had they told her? - Anxiously, as she answered him, he searched her delicately pretty face. - How young she was! Dwelling amid tragedy, in a degree sobered by it, the - buoyancy of youth glowed in her brown eyes, in the texture of her skin, in - the waving masses of fine hair, in the soft vividness of her voice; the - touch of tragedy would, after all, rest lightly on her slim shoulders. To - her the world was young; of the bitter <i>impasse</i> of middle age she - knew no hint. Men loved her, of course. Men had died for less than she.... - He pondered, swiftly, gloormly, the problem her very existence presented. - And he looked on her and spoke with a finer tenderness than any he had - before felt toward any living creature, even toward the wife who had left - her soul on earth in the breast of this girl. - </p> - <p> - He decided that they hadn't told her. After all, they wouldn't. They were, - when all was said, adult folk. He couldn't himself tell her. But his - predicament was pitiful. He knew now, from the honest love in her eyes, - that not the least black of his sins had been the doubting her. Never - again could he do that. But this realization brought him to the verge of - an attitude toward Jonathan Braehey that it was impossible for him to - entertain; the mere thought of that man roused emotions that he could not - control. But emotions, all sorts, must be controlled, of course; on no - other understanding can life be lived. If direct effort of will is - insufficient, then counter-activity must be set up. - </p> - <p> - Betty protested when he told her he meant to get up at once. But it was - afternoon. He assured her that his wound was not serious; Dr. Cassin had - admitted that, and he had slept deeply. H is muscles were lame; but that - was an added reason for exercise. - </p> - <p> - They had brought in some of the clothing of the large Australian. As he - pieced out a costume, he shaped a policy He couldn't, at once, fit into - the life of the compound. He couldn't face Brachey. Not yet. The only hope - of getting through these days of his passion lay in keeping himself - desperately active. He weighed a number of plans, finally discarding all - but one. Then he rang for a servant; and sent, while he ate a solitary - breakfast, a chit to M. Pourmont. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he engineer - received him at three. Neither spoke of the incident that had brought them - together in the night. To Doane, indeed, it was now, in broad daylight and - during most of the time, but a nightmare, unreal and impossible. During - the moments when it did come real, he could only set his strong face and - wait out the turbulence and bewilderment it stirred in him. - </p> - <p> - M. Pourmont found him very nearly himself; which was good. He seemed, - despite the bandaged shoulder and the thinner face, the Griggsby Doane of - old. But his proposal—-he was grimly bent on it—was nothing - less than to make the effort, that night, to get through to the telegraph - station at Shau T'ing. - </p> - <p> - M. Fourmunt took the position that the thing couldn't be done. After - losing two natives in the attempt, he had decided to conserve his meager - manpower and fall back on the certain fact that the legations knew of the - siege and were doubtless moving toward action of some sort. Besides, he - added, Duane with his courage and his extensive knowledge of the local - situation was the man above all others he could least well spare. - </p> - <p> - Doane, however, pressed his point. “Getting through the lines will be - difficult, but not impossible,” he said. “Remember I did get through last - night. I believe I can do it again to-night. Even if I should be captured - they may hesitate to kill me. I would ask nothing better than to be taken - before Kang. He would have to listen to me, I think. And if I do succeed - in establishing communication with Peking I may be able to stir them to - action. The Imperial Government can hardly admit that they are backing - Kang. It may even be possible to force them, through diplomatic pressure - alone, to repudiate him and use their own troops to overthrow him. But - first Peking must have the facts.” - </p> - <p> - M. Pourmont smiled. - </p> - <p> - “If you vill step wiz me,” he said, and led the way down a corridor to his - spacious dining-room. There on the table, stood a large basket heaped with - apples and pears. “Vat you t'ink, Monsieur Doane! But yesterday comes <i>un - drapeau bianc</i> to ze gate viz a let-tair from zis ol' Kang. He regret - vair' much zat ve suffair <i>ici ze derangement</i>, an' he hope zat vair' - soon ve are again <i>confortable</i>. In Heaven, perhaps he mean! <i>Chose - donnante!</i> An' he sen' <i>des fruits</i> viz ze <i>compliments of Son - Excellence</i> Kang Hsu to Monsieur Pourmont. <i>Et je vous demande, - qu'est-ce que cela fait?</i>” - </p> - <p> - Doane considered this puzzle; finally shook his head over it. It was very - Chinese. Kang doubtless believed that through it he was deluding the - stupid foreigners and escaping responsibility for his savage course. - </p> - <p> - Finally Doane won M. Pourmont's approval for his forlorn sally. He was, in - a wild way, glad. - </p> - <p> - During the few hours left to him he must work rapidly, think hard. That, - too, was good. He decided to write a will. If he had little money to leave - Betty, at least there were things of his and her mother's. Elmer - Boatwright would help him. And he must tell Betty he was going. It was - curiously hard to face her, hard to meet the eye of his own daughter. He - winced at the thought. - </p> - <p> - She had returned to the residence before him. He asked for her now. - </p> - <p> - M. Pourmont, giving a moment more to considering this man, whom he had - long regarded with a respect he did not feel toward all the missionaries, - wondered, as he sent word to the young lady, what might underlie that - strange quarrel of the early morning. The only explanation that occurred - to him he promptly dismissed, for it involved the little Mademoiselle's - name in a manner which he could not permit to be considered. M. Pourmont - was a shrewd man; and he knew that the Mademoiselle was ashamed of - nothing. Nothing was wrong there. Like his wife he had already learned to - love the busy earnest girl. And then, leaving M. Doane in the - reception-room waiting for her, he returned to his study and dismissed the - whole matter from his mind. For the siege was cruel business. One by one, - some one every day, men and women and children, were dying. The living had - to subsist on diminishing rations, for he had never foreseen housing and - feeding so large a number. There were problems—of discipline and - morale, of tactics, of sanitation, of burying the dead—that must be - met and solved from hour to hour. - </p> - <p> - On the whole, as he settled again into his endless, urgent task, M. - Pourmont was not sorry that M. Doane had won his consent to this last - desperate effort to reach those inhumanly deliberate white folk up at - Peking; men whose minds dwelt with precedents and policies while their - fellows, down here at Ping Yang, on a hillside, held off with diminishing - strength the destruction that seemed, at moments, certain to fall. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>oane, watching - Betty as she entered the room attired in a long white apron over her - simple dress, knew that he must again beg the question that lay between - them. He could no more listen to the burden of her heart than to the agony - of his own. Sooner or later, if he lived, he would have to work it out, - decide about his life. If he lived.... - </p> - <p> - “My dear,” he said, quickly for him, holding her hand more tightly than he - knew, “I have some news which I know you will take bravely.” - </p> - <p> - He could feel her steady eyes on him. He hurried on. “I am going out again - to-night. There seems a good chance that I may get through to Shau T'ing, - with messages. I'm going to try.” - </p> - <p> - His desire was to speak rapidly on, and then go. But he had to pause at - this. He heard her exclaim softly—“Oh, Dad!” And then after a - silence—“I'm not going to make it hard for you. Of course I - understand. Any of us may come to the end, of course, any moment. We've - just got to take it as it comes. But—I—it does seem as if—after - all you've been through, Dad—as if—” - </p> - <p> - He felt himself shaking his head. - </p> - <p> - “No,” he said. “No. It's my job, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well, Dad. Then you must do it. I know. But I do wish you could have - a day or two more to rest. If you could”—this wistfully—“perhaps - they'd let me off part of the time to take care of you. You know, I'm - nursing. I'd be stern. You'd have to sleep a lot, and eat just \vhat I - gave you.” She patted his arm as she spoke; then added this: “Of course - it's not the time to think of personal things. But there's one thing I've - got to tell you pretty soon, Dad. A strange experience has come to me. - It's puzzling. I can't see the way very clearly. But it's very wonderful. - I believe it's right—really right. It's a man.” - </p> - <p> - She rushed on with it. “I wanted you to meet him to-night. He's—out - in the trenches, all day, up the hill. We're expecting word—a - cablegram—when they get through to us. And when that comes, I'd have - to tell you all about it. He'll come to you then. But I—well, I had - to tell you this much. It's been a pretty big experience, and I don't like - to think of going through it like this without your even knowing about it - from me, and knowing, too, no matter what they may say”—her voice - wavered—“that it's—it's—all right.” Her hands reached - suddenly up toward his shoulders; she clung to him, like the child she - still, in his heart, seemed. - </p> - <p> - He could trust himself only to speak the little words of comfort he would - have used with a child. He felt that he was not helping her; merely - standing there, helpless in the grip of a fate that seemed bent on racking - his soul to the final Emit of his spiritual endurance. - </p> - <p> - “This won't do,” she said. “I have no right to give way. They need me in - the hospital. I shall think of you every minute, Dad. I'm very proud of - you.” - </p> - <p> - She kissed him and rushed away. He walked back to Elmer Boatwright's room - fighting off a sense of unreality that had grown so strong as to be - alarming. It was all a nightmare now—the manly dogged faces in the - compound, the wailing sounds from the native quarter, the intermittent - shots, the smells, the very sun that blazed down on the tiling. Nothing - seemed really to matter. He knew well enough, in a corner of his mind, - that this mood was the most dangerous of all. It lay but a step from - apathy; and apathy, to such a nature as his, would mean the end. - </p> - <p> - So he busied himself desperately. The simple will he left for Boatwright - with instructions that it was to be given to Betty in the event of his - death. It seemed that the little man was one of a machine-gun crew and - could not be reached until well on in the evening; he had turned fighter, - like the others. - </p> - <p> - He sewed up his tattered knapsack and filled it with a sort of iron - ration. He wrote letters, including a long one to Henry Withery, addressed - in care of Dr. Hidderleigh's office at Shanghai. He framed with care the - messages that were to go over the wires to Peking. He ate alone, and - sparingly. And early, as soon as darkness settled over the scene of petty - but bitter warfare, he clipped out of the compound and disappeared, - carrying no weapon but his walking stick. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX—LIGHT - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>OANE walked, - carelessly erect, to a knoll something less than a hundred yards northeast - of the compound and off to the left of the ride pits. Here he stood for a - brief time, listening. He purposed going out through the lines as he had - come in through them, by crawling, hiding, feeling his way foot by foot. - The line was thinnest in front of the rifle pits, and just to the left - where the upper machine gun commanded a defile. - </p> - <p> - He had allowed two hours for the journey through the lines, but it - consumed nearly four. At one point he lay for an hour behind a stone - trough while a squad of Lookers built a fire and brewed tea. A recurring - impulse was to walk calmly in among those yellow men and go down fighting. - It seemed as good a way as any to go. He found it necessary to hold with a - strong effort of will to the thought of his fellow's in the compound; that - to save them, and to save Betty, he must carry through. - </p> - <p> - Toward one o'clock in the morning, now well to the eastward of the - besieging force, he swung into his stride. It seemed, in the retrospect, - absurdly like the play of children to be hiding and crawling about the - hillsides. But he was glad now that he had somehow, painfully, kept his - head. Barring the unforeseen, the diplomatic gentlemen up at Peking would - find the news awaiting them when they came to their desks in the morning. - After that noting that he might do would greatly matter. He could follow - these powerfully recurring impulses if he chose; let the end come. That - was now his greatest desire. Life had become quite meaningless. Except for - Betty.... - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>hau T'ing was but - another of the innumerable rural villages that dot northern China. Though - there were a railway station, and sidings, and a quaintly American water - tank set high on posts. The inns were but the familiar Oriental - caravansaries; no modern hotel, no “Astor House,” had sprung up as yet to - care for newly created travel. - </p> - <p> - As he approached the stream that ran through a loess canyon a mile or more - west of the village he glimpsed, ahead, a group of soldiers seated about a - fire. Just behind them were stacks of rifles; this much he saw and - surmised with the help of the firelight. And the first glow of dawn was - breaking in the east. He left the highway and swung around through the - fields, passing between scattered grave mounds from whose tops the white - joss papers fluttered in the gray twilight like timid little ghosts. - </p> - <p> - He crossed the gorge by the old suspension footbridge, with the crumbling - memorial arches at either end bearing, each characteristic inscriptions - suggestive of happiness and peace. Looking down-stream he could dimly see - that the railway bridge lay, a tangle of twisted steel, in the stream, - leaving the abutments of white stone rearing high in the air with wisps of - steel swinging aimlessly from the tops. - </p> - <p> - He half circled the village, and waited outside the eastern gate until the - massive doors swung open at sunrise. - </p> - <p> - He went to the leading inn, and gave up an hour to eating the food in his - knapsack and cleaning his mud-dyed clothing. The innkeeper informed him, - when he brought the boiled water, that another white man had been there - for three days. After this Doane went down to the station. A solitary - engine was puffing and clanking among the sidings, apparently making up a - train. - </p> - <p> - A number of the blue-turbaned military police stood sentry-go here and - there about the yard, each with fixed bayonet. Within the room that was at - once ticket office and telegraph station sat the Chinese agent cheerfully - contemplating a slack day. - </p> - <p> - Doane wrote out his messages, and stood over the man until they were sent; - then walked slowly back toward the inn. His task, really, was done. He - would wait until night, of course; there might be replies. But at most his - only further service would be in carrying hopeful messages to the - beleaguered folk at Ting Yang. Beyond that he would be but one more human - unit to fight and to be fed. Debit and credit, they seemed just about to - balance, those two items. Fastening his door he stretched out on the <i>kang</i>. - </p> - <p> - He was awakened at the close of day by the innkeeper bringing food. The - man set out two plates on the dusty old table. Doane sat on the edge of - the <i>kang</i> and drowsily wondered why. He had slept heavily. He stood - up; moved about the room; he was only a little stiff. Indeed his strength - was surely returning. He felt almost his old self, physically. - </p> - <p> - There was a knock at the door. In Chinese he called, “Enter!” - </p> - <p> - The door slowly opened, and a drab little man came in, walking with a - slight limp, and stood looking at him out of dusty blue eyes. He carried a - packet of papers. - </p> - <p> - “Grigg!” he exclaimed softly. - </p> - <p> - “Henry Withery!” cried Doane, “What on earth are you doing here?” - </p> - <p> - Withery smiled, and laid hat and packet on the table. - </p> - <p> - “I've arranged to dine with you,” he explained. “You won't mind?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course not, Henry. But why are you here?” - </p> - <p> - “My plans were changed.” - </p> - <p> - “Evidently. Do sit down.” - </p> - <p> - “I came back to find you. I've been waiting here for a chance to get - through. We've worried greatly, of course. A rumor came from the Chinese - that you were killed.” - </p> - <p> - “I nearly was,” said Doane quietly. A cloud had crossed his face as he - listened. At every point, apparently, at each fresh contact with life, he - was to be brought face to face with his predicament. It would be pitiless - business, of course, all the way through, for the severest judge of all he - had yet to face dwelt within his own breast; long after the world had - forgotten, that judge would be pronouncing sentence upon him. - </p> - <p> - “You got through to Shanghai?” he asked abruptly. - </p> - <p> - Withery, touched by his appearance, a little disturbed by his nervously - abrupt manner, inclined his head. - </p> - <p> - “Well, it's out, I suppose. What are they saying about me, Henry? Really, - you'd better tell me. I've got to live through this thing, you know. I may - as well have the truth at once.” - </p> - <p> - Withery lowered his eyes; fingered the chopsticks that lay by his plate. - </p> - <p> - “No,” he said slowly. “No, Grigg, it's not out.” - </p> - <p> - “But you know of it. Surely others do, then. And they'll talk. It's the - worst way. It'll run wild. I'd rather face a church trial than that.” He - was himself unaware that he had been constantly brooding upon this aspect - of his trouble, yet the words came snapping out as if he had thought of - nothing else. - </p> - <p> - “Now, Grigg,” said Withery, in the same deliberately thoughtful way, “I - want you to let me talk. I've come way back here just to do that. - Hidderleigh showed me your letter. Then in my presence, he destroyed it. I - have promised him I would speak of it to no one but you. ... Neither you - nor I could have foreseen just how Hidderleigh would take this. He is, of - course, as he has always been, a dogmatic thinker. But like others of us, - he has grown some with the years. He's less narrow, Grigg. He knows you - pretty well—your ability, your influence. He respects you.” - </p> - <p> - “Respects me?” Doane nearly laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. He sees as clearly as you or I could that any human creature may - slip. And he knows that no single slip is fatal. Grigg, he wants you to go - back and take up your work.” - </p> - <p> - Doane could not at once comprehend this astonishing statement. He was - deeply moved. Withery by his simple friendliness had already done much to - restore in his mind, for the moment, a normal feeling for life. - </p> - <p> - “But he feels, Grigg, that you ought to marry again.” - </p> - <p> - Doane shook his head abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “No,” he cried, “I can't consider that. Not now.” - </p> - <p> - “As he said to me, Grigg, 'It is not good for man to be alone!'” - </p> - <p> - Withery let the subject rest here, and asked about the fighting. The whole - outside world was watching these Hansi hills, it appeared. The Imperial - Government was already disclaiming responsibility. Troops were on their - way, from Hong Kong, from the Philippines, from Indo-China. - </p> - <p> - “It will be a month or so before they can get out here,” mused Doane. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! At best.” - </p> - <p> - “Meantime, the compound will fall at the first really determined attack. - They've been afraid of Pour-mont's machine guns—I heard some of - their talk last night, and the night before—but let Kang come to a - decision to drive them in and they'll go. That will settle it in a day.” - </p> - <p> - “Will they have the courage?” - </p> - <p> - “I think so. You and I know these people, Henry. They're brave enough. All - they lack is leadership, and organization. And this crowd have a strong - fanaticism to hold them up. Once let Kang appeal to their spirit and - they'll have to go in to save face. For if they can't be seen the only - danger is of an accident here and there. And, for that matter, Kang may - simply be waiting for Pourmont to use up his ammunition. It can't last a - great while, not in a real siege, which this is.” - </p> - <p> - “By the way,” said Withery a little later, “here is a lot of mail for - Pourmont's people. It's been accumulating. There was no way to get it to - them.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll take it in,” said Doane. - </p> - <p> - “You? You don't mean that you're going to ran that gauntlet again, Grigg?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” He untied the packet, and looked through the little heap of - envelopes. One was a cablegram addressed to Jonathan Brachey. He held it - in tense fingers; gazed at it long while the pulse mounted in his temples. - “Oh, yes,” he said, almost casually then, “I'm going hack in. They'll be - looking for me.” But his thoughts were running wild again. - </p> - <p> - Withery said, before he left, “I'm going to ask you not to answer - Hidderleigh's request until you've thought it over carefully. My own - feeling is that he is right.” - </p> - <p> - “Suppose,” said Doane, “my final decision should be—as I think it - will—that I can't go back. What will they do?” - </p> - <p> - “Then I've promised him, I'll go in and take up your work. As soon as this - trouble is over.” - </p> - <p> - “That knocks out your year at home, Henry.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but what matters it? Very likely I shall find more happiness in - working, after all. That isn't what disturbs me.... Grigg, if you leave - the church it will be, I think, the severest blow of my life. I—I'm - going to tell you this—for years I've leaned on you. You didn't - know, but I've made a better job of my life for knowing that you too were - hard at it, just beyond the mountains. We haven't seen much of each other, - of late years, but I've felt you there.” - </p> - <p> - Doane's stern face softened as he looked at his old friend. - </p> - <p> - “And I've felt you, Henry,” he replied gently. - </p> - <p> - “Your blunders are those of strength, not of weakness, Grigg. Perhaps your - greatest mistake has been in leaning a little too strongly on yourself. - What I want you to consider now is giving self up, in every way.” - </p> - <p> - But Duane shook his great head. - </p> - <p> - “No, Henry—no! I've given to the uttermost for years. And it has - wrecked my life—” - </p> - <p> - “No, Grigg! Don't say that!” - </p> - <p> - “Well—put it as you will. The trouble has been that I was doing - wrong all the time—for years—as I told you back in Tiaman, I - was doing the wrong thing. It led, all of it, to sin. For that sin, of - course, I've suffered, and must suffer more. The best reason I could think - of for going back would be to keep this added burden off your shoulders. - But that would be wrong too. It's getting a little clearer to me. I know - now that I've got to face my doubts and my sins, take them honestly for - whatever they may be. Each life must function in its own way. In the - eagerness of youth I chose wrong. I must now take the consequences. - Good-by, now! There's barely time to slip through the lines before dawn.” - </p> - <p> - Withery rose. “I'll go with you,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “No. I won't allow that. You haven't the strength. You're not an outdoor - man We should have to separate anyway; together we should almost certainly - be caught. No. You stay here and get word through to them from day to day - if you can find any one to undertake it. It will mean everything to them - to hear from the outside world. Good luck!” - </p> - <p> - He took the packet and went out. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>gain it was dawn - Griggsby Doane stood on the crest of a terraced hi'! looking off into the - purple west. But a few miles farther on lay Ping Yang. - </p> - <p> - Beneath him, near the foot of the slope, four coolies were already at the - radiating windlasses of a well, and tiny streams of yellow water were - trickling along troughs in the loess toward this and that field, where - bent silent farmers waited clod in hand to guide the precious fluid from - furrow to furrow. Still farther down, along the sunken highway, a few - venturesome muleteers led their trains. No outposts in the Looker uniform - were to be seen. And he heard no shots. It would be a lull, then, in the - fighting. - </p> - <p> - He descended the hill, dropped into the road, and walked, head high, - toward Ping Yang. As he swung along he heard, far off, the shots his ears - had strained for on the hill; one, another, then a spattering volley; but - he walked straight on. The Mongols and Chihleans on the road gave him no - more than the usual glance of curiosity. He passed through a village; Ping - Yang would be the next. The railway grade—here an earthen rampart, - there a cutting, yonder a temporary wooden trestle—paralleled the - highway, cutting into the heart of old China like a surgeon's knife, - letting out superstition and festering poverty, letting n the strong - fluids of commerce and education. He felt the health of it profoundly, - striding on alone through the cool, dear morning air. It was imperfect, of - course, this Western civilization that he had so nearly come to doubt; - yet, materialistic in its nature or not, it was the best that the world - had to offer at the moment. It was what the amazing instinct in man to - push on, to better his body and his brain, had brought the world to. It - seemed, now, a larger expression of the vitality he felt within himself, - the force that he had so lavishly expended in a direction that was wrong - for him. - </p> - <p> - He felt this, which could not have been less than the beginning of a new - focus of his misdirected, scattered powers, and yet he walked straight on - toward the red army that was sworn to kill all the whites. And though his - brain still told him, coolly, without the slightest sense of personal - concern, that he would probably be slain within the hour, his heart, or - his rising spirit, as calmly dismissed the report. - </p> - <p> - It might come, of course. He literally didn't care. Death might come at - any moment to any man. The present moment was his; and the next, and the - next, until the last whenever it should come. He walked with a thrilling - sense of power, above the world. For the world, life itself, was suddenly - coming back to him. He had been ill—for years, he knew now—of - a sick faith. Now he was well. If the old dogmatic religion was gone, he - was sensing a new personal religion of work, of healthy functioning, of - unquestioning service in the busy instinctive life of the world. He would - turn, not away from life to a mystical Heaven, but straight into life at - its busiest, head up, as now on the old highway of Hansi, trusting his - instinct as a human creature. No matter how difficult the start he would - plunge in and live his life out honestly. Betty remained the problem; he - knit his brows at the thought; but the new flame in his heart blazed - steadily higher. Whatever the problems, he couldn't he headed now. - </p> - <p> - “What a morbid, sick fool I've been!” It was the cry of a heart new born - to health. It occurred to him, then, as he heard his own voice, that this - new sense of light had come to him as suddenly as that other light that - smote Paul on the Damascus road. It had the force, as he considered it - now, of a miracle.... - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he road was - blocked ahead. Drawing near, he saw beyond the mules and horses and men of - the highway and the curious, pressing country folk a considerable number - of yellow turbans crowding the road canyon. There must have been a hundred - or more, with many rifle muzzles slanting crazily above them. After a - moment the rabble broke toward him. - </p> - <p> - Doane did not wait for them to discover him, but raising his stick and - calling for room to pass he walked in among them. He stood head and - shoulders above them, a suddenly appearing white giant whom a few resisted - at first, but more gave way to as he pushed firmly through. Emerging on - the farther side he walked on his way without so much as looking back. And - not a shot had been fired. - </p> - <p> - The road wound its way between steep walls of loess, so that ii was - impossible at any point to see far ahead. He came upon other, smaller - groups of the Lookers. Only one man, the largest of them, threatened him, - but as the man raised the butt of his rifle Doane snatched the weapon from - him and knocked him down with it; then tossed it aside and strode on as - before. - </p> - <p> - He came at length to a scenic arch in a notch. Through the arch Ping Yang - could be seen in its valley. - </p> - <p> - He stopped and looked. Near at hand were the tents of some of the Looker - soldiery; beyond lay the village; and beyond that on the hillside, the - compound of the company, lying as still as if it were deserted. There were - no puffs of smoke, no sounds along the village street; between the - outlying houses small figures appeared to Le bustling about, but they made - no noise that could be heard up here. The scene was uncanny. - </p> - <p> - Doane, however, went on down the hill. None of the Lookers were in - evidence now on the winding street, but only the silent, curious - villagers; this until two soldiers in blue came abruptly out of a house; - and then two others firmly holding by the arms a man in red and yellow - with an embroidered square on the breast of his tunic that marked him as - an officer of rank. Other soldiers followed, one bearing a large curved - sword. - </p> - <p> - Doane stopped to watch. - </p> - <p> - Without ceremony the officer's wrists were tied behind his back. He was - kicked to his knees. A blue soldier seized his queue and with it jerked - his head forward. The swordsman, promptly, with one clean blow', severed - the neck; then wiped his sword on the dead man's clothing and marched away - with the others, carrying the head. - </p> - <p> - Duane shivered slightly, compressed his lips, and, paler, walked on. He - passed other blue soldiers in the heart of the village, and a row of - Lookers standing without arms. Emerging from the straggling groups of - houses beyond the village wall he took the road up the hill. Away up the - slope he could see the men of the outposts standing and sitting on the - parapets of the rifle pits. At the gate of the compound he called out. - </p> - <p> - The gate opened, and closed behind him. Within stood men of the garrison, - and women, and behind them the Chinese. All looked puzzled. Many tongues - greeted him at once, eagerly questioning. - </p> - <p> - He looked about from one to another of the thin weary faces with burning - eyes that hung on his slightest gesture, and slowly shook his head. He - could answer none of their questions. He was searching for one face that - meant more to him than all the others. It was not there. He walked on - toward the house occupied by the Boatwrights. Just as he was turning in - there he saw Betty. She was tunning across from the residence. - </p> - <p> - “On, Dad!” she cried. “You're back!” Her arms were around his neck. “How - wonderful! And you're well—like your old self.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0357.jpg" alt="0357 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0357.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Better than my old self, dear,” he said, with a tender smile, and kissed - her forehead. - </p> - <p> - “I can't stay, Dad. I just ran out. Wasn't it strange—I saw you from - the window! But what's happened? What is it? Everybody's so puzzled. Have - the troops come?”. - </p> - <p> - He shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “But it's something. Everybody's terribly excited.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't understand it myself, dear. Though I walked through it, - apparently.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, look! They're opening the gate! What is it?” She hopped with - impatience, like a child, and clapped her hands. “Oh, I mustn't stay! But - tell m, do you think this dreadful business is over?” - </p> - <p> - “I believe it is, Betty.” - </p> - <p> - She ran back to her post. And he returned to the gate. - </p> - <p> - An odd little cavalcade was moving deliberately up the hill. In front - marched a soldier in blue bearing a large white flag (an obviously Western - touch, this). Behind him came a squad in column of fours, on foot and - unarmed; then a green sedan chair with four pole-men; behind this three - pavilions with carved wooden tops, of the sort carried in wedding - processions, each with four bearers; and last another squad of foot - soldiers. - </p> - <p> - Just outside the gate they came to a halt. The soldiers formed in line on - either side of the road. An officer advanced and asked permission to - enter. This was granted. At once the chairmen set down their burden. The - carved door opened, and a young Chinese gentleman stepped out. He was - tall, slim, with large spectacles; and moved with a quiet dignity that - amounted to a distinction of bearing. His long robe was of shimmering blue - silk embroidered in rose and gold; and the embroidered emblem on his - breast exhibited the silver pheasant of a mandarin of the fifth class. On - his head, the official, bowl-shaped straw hat with red tassel was - surmounted with a ball or button of crystal an inch in diameter set in a - mount of exquisitely worked gold. His girdle clasp also was of worked gold - with a plain silver button. The shoes that appeared beneath the hem of his - robe were richly embroidered and had thick white soles. - </p> - <p> - Calmly, deliberately, he entered the compound. One of the engineers, an - American, addressed him in the Mandarin tongue. He replied, in a deep - musical voice, with a pronounced intonation that gave this mellow - language, to a casual ear, something the sound of French. - </p> - <p> - The engineer bowed, and together they moved toward the residence, where a - somewhat mystified M. Pourmont awaited them. But first the mandarin turned - and signaled to the pavilion bearers, who still waited outside the gate. - These came in now, and it became evident that the ornate structures were - laden with gifts. There were platters of fruits and of sweetmeats, bottles - of wine, cooked dishes, and small caskets, some carved, others lacquered, - that might have contained jewels. - </p> - <p> - Doane, quietly observing the scene, found something familiar in the - appearance of the envoy. Something vaguely associated with the judge's - yamen at T'ainan-fu. Certainly, on some occasion, he had seen the man. He - stood for a brief time watching the two figures, a white man in stained - brown clothing, unkempt of appearance but vigorous in person, walking - beside the elegant young mandarin, appearing oddly crude beside him, - curiously lacking in the grace that marked every slightest movement of the - silk-clad Oriental; and the picture dwelt for a time among his thoughts—the - oldest civilization in the world, and the youngest. Crude vigor, honest - health, contrasted with a decadence that clung meticulously to every - slightest subtlety of etiquette. And behind the two, towering above the - heads of the ragged bearers, the curving pointed roofs of the three - pavilions, still gaily bizarre in form and color despite the weatherbeaten - condition of the paint; a childish touch, suggestive of circus day in an - American village. Suggestive, too, whimsically, of the second childhood of - the oldest race. - </p> - <p> - Doane, reflecting thus, slowly followed them to the residence. - </p> - <h3> - 5 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>onathan Brachey - sat moodily on the parapet. Down below, the compound (a crowded mass of - roofs within a rectangle of red-gray wail) and below that the straggling - village, stood out as blocked-in masses of light and shadow under the - slanting rays of the morning sun. - </p> - <p> - A French youth, beside him, polishing his rifle with a greasy rag, looked - up with a question. - </p> - <p> - Brachey shook his head; he had no information. He looked over toward the - other pit. The Australian in command there (three nights earlier they had - buried Swain) waved a carelessly jocular hand and went on nibbling a - biscuit. - </p> - <p> - The thing might be over; it might not. Brachey found himself almost - perversely disturbed, however, at the prospect of peace. He had supposed - that he hated this dirty, bloody business. He saw no glory in fighting, - merely primitive blood-lust; an outcropping of the beast in man; evidence - that in his age-long struggle upward from the animal stage of existence - man had yet a long, long way to climb. But from the thought of losing this - intense preoccupation, of living quietly with the emphasis again placed on - personal problems, he found himself shrinking. What a riddle it was! - </p> - <p> - He spoke shortly to the French youth, took up his own rifle, and led the - way up the hill to the bullet-spattered farm compounds. They were quite - deserted. Only the huddled, noxious dead remained. He went on up the - hillside, searching all the hiding-places of those red and yellow vandals - who had filled his thoughts by day and haunted his sleep at, night; but - all were empty of human life. A great amount of rubbish was left—cooking - utensils, knives, old Chinese-made rifles and swords, bits of uniforms. He - found even a jade ring and a few strings of brass cash. - </p> - <p> - Weary of spirit he returned to the rifle pits only to find these, too, - deserted. From the upper redoubt a man was waving, beckoning. Apparently - the compound gate was open, and a group of soldiers standing in line - outside; but these soldiers wore blue. Through his glasses he surveyed the - moving dots near the village; none wore red and yellow. - </p> - <p> - The man was still waving from the redoubt. The French youth, he found now, - was looking up at him, that eager question still in his eyes. He nodded. - With a sudden wild shout the boy ran down the hill, waving bis rifle over - his head. - </p> - <p> - So it was peace—sudden, enigmatic. Brachey sat again on the parapet. - Griggsby Doane was doubtless there (Brachey knew nothing of his journey; - he had not seen Betty. What could he say to him, to the father whom Betty - loved? - </p> - <p> - This wouldn't do, of course. He rose, a set dogged expression on his long, - always serious face, and went slowly down the hill; and with only a nod to - this person and that got to his tent. Once within, he closed the flaps and - sat on the cot. He discovered then that he had brought with him one of the - strings of cash, and jingled it absently against his knee. - </p> - <p> - Voices sounded outside. Men were standing before the tent. - </p> - <p> - Then the flaps parted, and he beheld the spectacled, pleasantly smiling - face of Mr. Po. - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” he said, more shortly than he knew. “Come in!” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Po stepped inside, letting the flaps fall together behind him. He made - a splendid figure in blue and gold, as he removed the round hat with its - red plume and crystal ball and laid it on the rude table. - </p> - <p> - “I'm glad to see you're still sound of life and limb and fresh as a - daisy,” he remarked cheerfully. “With permission I will sit here a bit for - informal how-do chin-chin, and forget from minute to minute all ceremonial - dam-foolishness.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI—THE SOULS OF MEN - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ELL,” continued - Mr. Po expansively, “I've certainly had a pretty kettle of fish about my - ears.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey filled and lighted his pipe, and yielded his senses for a moment - to the soothing effect of the fragrant smoke. - </p> - <p> - “Is the fighting really over?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes!” - </p> - <p> - “But why? What's happened?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Po indulged in his easy, quiet laugh. - </p> - <p> - “To begin at first blush,” he said, settling comfortably back as If - launched on a long narrative, “while out on scouting leap in dark I - stumbled plump on Lookers, and by thunder, it was necessary to trust - broken reed of lying on stomach hi open ground!” - </p> - <p> - “They caught you?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! For hell of a while I held breath, but with dust in nose it - became unavoidable to sneeze. I would then have lost head promptly but - officer of yamen entourage of Kang spotted me and said, 'What the devil - you doing here!' With which I explain of course that I escape by hook or - crook from white devils. Then I appear before general and demand audience - discussion with old Kang. Old reprobate received me and made long speech. - Perfectly absurd! He said I must go to T'ainan-fu as his particular guest - and speak to His Excellency Pao Ting Chuan his message, like this: - </p> - <p> - “'For many years I have known and respected your abilities as scholar and - statesman of huge understanding ability. We have both seen, you and I, - continuing unprincipled encroachment of foreign devil on preserves of our - ancient and fruitful land, while the sorrow of our own Hansi Province - under heel of foreign mining syndicate despot is matter of common ill - repute to us both. Now as loyal friend and unswervingly determined on - destroying all evil influence of foreign devils, I invite you as guest to - share with me pleasure of witnessing capture and utter destruction of - foreign compound at Ping Yang. Omens agree on midnight of to-day week, - following banquet of state and theatrical performance at my headquarters, - at which favorite amateur actor Wang Lo Hsu will recite historical - masterpiece, “The Song of Wun Hsing.” And as my cooks are all wretched - creatures, unworthy of catering to poorest classes, I beg of you bring - delicately expert cook of Canton that I may again rejoice in delightful - memory of sweet lotus soup.'” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Po paused to light a cigarette. - </p> - <p> - “So you went back to Tiainan?” asked Brachey. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no, I was taken back against grain as prisoner of large armed guard.” - </p> - <p> - “And you delivered the message?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes!” - </p> - <p> - “Pao didn't accept, of course. Though I don't see how he could get out of - it. He had no soldiers to speak of, did he?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, some. These he sent by northern road to region of Shan Tang, - only thirty <i>li</i> away from Ping Yang. And then he accept, for His - Excellency is great statesman. Nobody yet ever put it over on His - Excellency, not so you could notice it. Without frown or smile he assemble - secretaries, runners and lictors of yamen. banner-men, some concubines and - eunuchs and come post-haste.” - </p> - <p> - “So he's here now?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes. We have large establishment at temple over on neighboring hill. - And everything's all right. O. K.” - </p> - <p> - “You'll forgive me if I don't at all understand why.” - </p> - <p> - “Naturally. I am going to make clear as cotton print. For a day or so - everything was as disorderly as the dickens, of course. You couldn't hear - yourself think. And sleep? My God, there wasn't <i>any</i>. And of course - after death of old reprobate Lookers went to pieces and raised Ned. It - became necessary to punish leaders and all that sort of thing. You see, - Dame Rumor gets move on in China, runs around like scared chicken, faster - than telegraph, I sometimes think. And when Lookers heard stories, that - Imperial Government up at Peking wasn't so crazy about giving them - support, and might even hand them double-cross lemon, they began to think - about patching holes in fences. They just blew up. And His Excellency”—he - chuckled—“he grasped situation like chain lightning. Oh, but he's - whale of a fellow, His Excellency!” Brachey smoked reflectively as he - studied this curiously bloodless enthusiast. Evidently behind the - humorously inadequate English speech of Mr. Po there was, if it could be - got at, a stirring drama of intrigue. A typical Oriental drama, bearing a - smooth surface of silken etiquette but essentially cruel and bloody. The - difficulty would be, of course, in getting at it, drawing it out piecemeal - and putting it together. - </p> - <p> - “His Excellency will now clean up whole shooting match,” Mr. Po went on. - “No more Ho Shan Company!” And he waved his cigarette about to indicate - the compound. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that goes, too?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! His Excellency has at once telegraphed agent-general at Tientsin - for final show-down price on surrender of all leases, agreements, - expenses, bribes and absolute good riddance. They say three million taels - cash. To-morrow we shall throw it at their heads. And so much for that!” - </p> - <p> - “H'm!” mused Brachey. “Pretty quick work. Rather takes one's breath away.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! But His Excellency's son of a gun.” - </p> - <p> - “Evidently. But I'm still in the dark as to how this rather extraordinary - change came about. Did I understand you to say that Kang is dead?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! Night before last.” - </p> - <p> - “How did that happen?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, well—it's just as well not to give this away—on arrival - at Ping Yang His Excellency made at once prepare bowl of sweet lotus soup - and send it with many compliments and hopes of good omens to old devil.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean—there was poison in it?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes! Pretty darned hard to put it over His Excellency. After that it - was no trouble at all to behead commanders of Looker troops.” - </p> - <p> - “Naturally,” was Brachey's only comment. He proceeded to draw out, bit by - bit, other details of the story. - </p> - <p> - Some one stepped before the tent, and a strong voice called: - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Brachey.” - </p> - <p> - With a nervously abrupt movement Brachey sprang up and threw back the - flaps; and beheld, standing there, stooping in order that he might see - within, the giant person of Griggsby Doane. - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>rachey bowed - coldly. Doane's strong gaunt face worked perceptibly. - </p> - <p> - Brachey said: - </p> - <p> - “Won't you come in, sir? The tent is”—there was a pause—“the - tent is small, but... You are perhaps acquainted with Mr. Po Sui-an of the - yamen of His Excellency Pao Ting Chuan.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Doane bowed toward the Chinese gentleman. - </p> - <p> - “I think I have seen Mr. Po at the yamen,” he said, speaking now in the - slow grave way of the old Griggsby Doane. “You bring good news?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes!” Mr. Po lighted a cigarette. “We shall doubtless in jiffy see - you again at T'ainan-fu.” - </p> - <p> - Doane looked thoughtfully, intently at him, then replied in the simple - phrase, “It may be.” To Brachey he said now, producing a white envelope, - “I found this, cablegram held for you at Shau T'ing, sir.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey took the envelope; stood stiffly holding it unopened before him. - For a moment the eyes of these two men met. Then Doane broke the tension - by simply raising his head, an action which removed it from the view of - the men within the tent. - </p> - <p> - “Good morning,” he said rather gruffly. And “Good morning, Mr. Po.” - </p> - <p> - He was well out of ear-shot when Brachey's gray lips mechanically uttered - the two words, “Thank you.” From a distant corner of the compound came the - fresh voices of young men—Americans and Australian and English—raised - in crudely pleasant harmony They were singing <i>My Bonnie Lies Over the - Ocean</i>. As they swung into the rolling, rollicking refrain, women's - voices joined in faintly from here and there about the compound.... - Brachey seemed to be listening. Then, again, abruptly starting into - action, he stepped outside the tent and stared across the courtyard after - Griggby Doane.... Then, as abruptly, he remembered his guest and returned - within the tent, with an almost muttered “I beg your pardon.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, go on—read your cablegram!” said Mr. Po good-humoredly. - </p> - <p> - Bradley looked at him; then at the envelope—turning it slowly over. - His hands trembled. This fact appeared to disturb him. He held one hand - out before his face and watched it intently, finally lowering it with a - quick nervous shake of the head. He seated himself again on the cot; tore - off an end of the envelope; caught his breath; then sat motionless with - the bit of paper that meant to him everything in life, or nothing, hanging - between limp fingers. A puzzling reminder of the strange man, Griggsby - Doane, was the painful throbbing in his head.... They were singing again, - about the compound—it was the college song of his youth, <i>Solomon - Levi</i>. - </p> - <p> - He thought, with another of those odd little mental and physical jerks, - again of his guest; and heard himself saying—weakly it seemed, like - a man talking in dreams—“You will think me...” But found himself - addressing an empty enclosure of canvas. Mr. Po had slipped out and - dropped the flaps. That he could have done this unobserved frightened - Brachey a little. He looked again at his trembling hand. - </p> - <p> - Again he raised the envelope. Until this moment he had assumed that it - could be but one message to himself and Betty; but now he knew vividly - better. - </p> - <p> - Anything might have happened. It was unthinkable that he should want the - courage to read it. He had foreseen no such difficulty. Perhaps if it had - come by any other hand than that of Griggsby Doane.... - </p> - <p> - His thoughts wandered helplessly back over the solitary life he had led... - wandering in Siam and Borneo and Celebes, dwelling here and there in - untraveled corners of India, picking up the quaint folklore of the Malay - Peninsula, studying the American sort of social organization in the - Philippines... eight years of it! He had begun as a disheartened young - man, running bitterly away from the human scheme in which he found no - fitting niche. Yes, that was it, after all; he had run away! He had begun - with a defeat, based his working life on just that. The five substantial - books that now stood to his name in every well-stocked library in America, - as in many in England and on the Continent, were, after all, but stop-gaps - in an empty life. They were a subterfuge, those books.........All the hard - work, the eager close thinking, was now, suddenly, meaningless. That he - had chosen work instead of drink, that he had been, after all, a decent - fellow, pursuing neither chance nor women, seemed immaterial. - </p> - <p> - The curse of an active imagination was on him now, and was riding him as - wildly as ever witch rode a broomstick. - </p> - <p> - The very bit of paper in his hand was nothing if not the symbol of his - terrible failure in the business called living. As he had built his work - on failure, was he, inevitably, to build the happiness of himself and - Betty on the same painful foundation. Even if the paper should announce - his freedom? Bitterly he repeated aloud the word, “Freedom!” Then - “Happiness?”... What were these elusive things? Were they in any sense - realities? - </p> - <p> - He nerved himself and read the message: - </p> - <p> - “Absolute decree granted you are free.” - </p> - <p> - He tossed it, with its unpunctuated jumble of words, on the table. - </p> - <p> - A little later, though he still indulged in this scathing self-analysis, - the habit of meeting responsibilities that was more strongly a part of his - nature than in this hour of utter emotion he knew, began to assert itself. - The strong character that had led him, after all, out to fight and to - build his mental house, was largely the man. - </p> - <p> - He slowly got up and stood before the square bit of mirrror that hung on - the rear tent-pole; then looked down at his mud-stained clothes. - Deliberately, almost painfully, he shaved and dressed. It was - characteristic that he put on a stiff linen collar. - </p> - <p> - There was, to a man of his stripe, just one thing to do: and that thing he - was going at directly, firmly. Until it was done he could not so much as - speak to Betty. Of the outcome of this effort he had no notion; he was - going at it doggedly, with his character rather than with his mind. Indeed - the mind quibbled, manufactured little delays, hinted at evasions. He even - listened to these whisperings, entertained them; but meanwhile went - straight on with his dressing. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s he emerged from - the tent sudden noises assailed his ears. A line of young men danced in - lock step, doing a serpentine from one areaway to another, and waving and - shouting merrily as they passed. There was still the singing, somewhere; - one of the songs of Albert Chevalier, who had not then been forgotten. He - heard vaguely, with half an ear, the enthusiastic outburst of sound on the - final line: - </p> - <p> - “Missie 'Enry 'Awkins is a first-class nyme!” - </p> - <p> - So it was a day of celebration! He had forgotten that it would be. But of - course! Even the Chinese were at it; he could hear one of their flageolets - wailing, and, more faintly, stringed instruments. - </p> - <p> - He walked directly to the building occupied by the Boatwrights; sent in - his card to Mr. Doane. - </p> - <p> - He was shown into a little cubicle of a room. Here was the huge man, - rising from an absurdly small work table that had been crowded in by the - window, between the wall and the foot of the bed. He was writing, - apparently, a long letter. - </p> - <p> - Brachey, an odd figure to Doane's eyes, in his well-made suit and stiff - white collar, stood on the sill, as rigid as a soldier at attent ion. - </p> - <p> - “I am interrupting you,” he said, almost curtly, - </p> - <p> - For the first time Griggsby Doane caught a glimpse of the man Brachey - behind that all but forbidding front; and he hesitated, turning for a - moment, stacking his papers together, and with a glance at the open window - laying a book across them. - </p> - <p> - He had said, kindly enough, “Oh, no, indeed! Come right in.” But his - thoughts were afield, or else he was busily, quickly, rearranging them. - </p> - <p> - Brachey stepped within, and closed the door. Here they were, these two, at - last, shut together in a room. It was a moment of high tension. - </p> - <p> - “Sit down,” said Doane, still busying himself at the table, but waving an - immense hand toward the other small chair. - </p> - <p> - But Brachey stood... waiting... in his hand a folded paper. - </p> - <p> - Finally Doane lifted his head, with a brusk but not unpleasant, “Yes, - sir?” - </p> - <p> - Brachey, for a moment, pressed his lips tightly together. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Doane,” he said then, clipping his words off short, “may I first ask - you to read this cablegram?” - </p> - <p> - Doane took the paper, started to unfold it, but then dropped it on the - table and stepped forward. - </p> - <p> - And now for the first time Brachey sensed, behind this great frame and the - weary, haggard face, the real Griggsby Doane; and stood very still, - fighting for control over the confusion in his aching head. This was, he - saw now, a strong man; a great deal more of a personality than he had - supposed he would find. Even before the next words, he felt something of - what was coming, something of the vigorous honesty of the man. Doane had - been through recent suffering, that was clear Something—-and even - then, in one of his keen mental dashes, Brachey suspected that it was a - much more personal experience than the Looker attack—something had - upset him. This wasn't a man to turn baby over a wound, or to lose his - head in a little fighting. No, it was an illness of the soul that had - hollowed the eyes and deepened the grooves between them. But it didn't - matter. What did matter was that he was now, in this gentle mood, - surprisingly like Betty. For she had a curious vein of honesty; and she - said, at times, just such unexpectedly frank, wholly open things as he - felt (with an opening heart) that the father was about to say now. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Brachey”—this was what he said, with extraordinary simplicity - of manner—“can you take my hand?” - </p> - <p> - If Brachey had spoken his reply his voice would have broken. Instead he - gripped the proffered hand. And during a brief moment they stood there. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” said Doane quietly, “sit down.” And he read the cablegram. After - some quiet thought he said, “Have you come to ask for Betty?” - </p> - <p> - The directness of this question made speech, to Brachey, even more nearly - impossible than before. He bowed his head. - </p> - <p> - Doane had dropped into the little chair by the little table. He sat, now, - thinking and absently weighing the cablegram in one hand. Finally, - reaching a conclusion, he rose again. - </p> - <p> - “The best way, I think, will be to settle this thing now.” He appeared to - be speaking as much to himself as to his caller. “I'll get Betty. You - won't mind waiting? They don't have call bells in this house.” And he - returned the cablegram and went out of the room, leaving the door ajar - behind him. - </p> - <p> - Brachey stepped over to the window, thinking he might see Betty when she - came, but it gave on an inner court. He stared out at the gray tiling. The - moment was, to him, terrible. He stood on the threshold of that strange - region of the spirit that is called happiness. The door, always before - closed to him (except the one previous experience when it proved but an - entry into bitterness and desolation) had opened, here at the last, - amazingly, at his touch. And he was afraid to look. - </p> - <p> - It seemed an hour later when footsteps sounded outside, and the outer door - opened. Then they came in, father and daughter. - </p> - <p> - Betty, rather white, stood hesitant, looking from one to the other. Doane - placed a gently protecting arm about her slim shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “I haven't told her,” he said. “That is for you to do. I want you both to - wait while I look for the others.” - </p> - <p> - He was gone. Betty came slowly forward. Brachey handed her the cablegram. - </p> - <p> - “I—I can't read it,” she said, with a tremulous little laugh. “John—I'm - crying!” - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he door squeaked. - Miss Hemphill looked in; stopped short; then in a sudden confusion of mind - in which indignation struggled with bewilderment for the upper hand, - stepped back into the hall. Before she could come down on the decision to - flee, Dr. Cassin joined her; curiously, carrying her medicine case. - </p> - <p> - To the physician's brisk, “Mr. Doane sent word to come here at once. Do - you know what is the matter?” Miss Hemphill could only reply, rather - acidly, “I can't imagine!” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Boatwright came into the corridor then, followed by Doane. She walked - with firm dignity, her enigmatic face squarely set. And when he ushered - them into the room, she entered without a word, but remained near the - door. - </p> - <p> - For a long moment the room was still; a hush settling over them that - intensified the difficulty in the situation. Miss Hemphill stared down at - the matting. Mrs. Boatwright's eyes were fixed firmly on the wall over the - bed. The one audible sound was the heavy breathing of Griggsby Doane, who - stood with his back to the door, brows knit, one hand reaching a little - way before him. He appeared, to the shrewd eyes of Dr. Cassin, like a man - in deep suffering. But when he spoke it was with the poise, the sense of - dominating personality, that she had felt and admired during all the - earlier years of their long association. Of late he had been ill of a - subtle morbid disease of which she had within the week witnessed the - nearly tragic climax; but now he was well again.... Mary Cassin was a - woman of considerable practical gifts. Her medical experience, illuminated - as it had been by wide scientific reading, gave her a first-hand knowledge - of the human creature and a tolerant elasticity of judgment that - contrasted oddly with the professed tenets of her church, with their iron - classification as sin of much that is merely honest human impulse, that - might even, properly, be set down as human need. She saw clearly enough - that the quality in the human creature that is called, usually, force, is - essentially emotional in its content—and that the person gifted with - force therefore must be plagued with emotional problems that increase in - direct ratio with the gift. Unlike Mrs. Boatwright, who was, of course, - primarily a moralist, Mary Cassin possessed the other great gift of - dispassionate, objective thought. I think she had long known the nature of - Doane's problem. Certainly she knew that no medical skill could help him; - her advice, always practical, would have taken the same direction as Dr. - Hidderleigh's. It brought her a glow of something not unlike happiness to - see that now he was well. The cure, whatever it might prove to have been, - was probably mental. Knowing Griggsby Doane as she did, that was the only - logical conclusion. For she knew how strong he was. - </p> - <p> - “There has existed among us a grave misapprehension”—thus Doane—“one - in which, unfortunately, I have myself been more grievously at fault than - any of you. I wish, now, before you all, to acknowledge my own confusion - in this matter, and, further, to clear away any still existing - misunderstanding in your minds.... Mr. Brachey has established the fact - that he is eligible to become Betty's husband. That being the case, I can - only add that I shall accept him as my only son-in-law with pride and - satisfaction. He has proved himself worthy in every way of our respect and - confidence.” - </p> - <p> - Mary Cassin broke the hush that followed by stepping quickly forward and - kissing Betty; after which she gave her hand warmly to Brachey. Then with - a word about her work at the hospital she went briskly out. - </p> - <p> - Miss Hemphill started forward, only to hesitate and glance in a spirit of - timid inquiry at the implacable Mrs. Boatwright. To her simple, - unquestioning faith, Mr. Doane and Mary Cassin could not together be - wrong; yet her closest daily problem was that of living from hour to hour - under the businesslike direction of Mrs. Boatwright. However, having - started, and lacking the harsh strength of character to be cruel, she went - on, took the hands of Betty and Brachey in turn, and wished them - happiness. Then she, too, hurried away. - </p> - <p> - Elmer Boatwright was studying his wife. His color was high, his eyes - nervously bright. He was studying, too, Griggsby Doane, who had for more - than a decade been to him almost an object of worship. Moved by an - impulse, perhaps the boldest of his life—and just as his wife said, - coldly, “I'm sure I wish you happiness,” and moved toward the door—he - went over and caught Betty and Brachey each by a hand. - </p> - <p> - “I haven't understood this,” he said—and tears stood in his eyes as - he smiled on them—“but now I'm glad. Betty, we are all going to be - proud of the man you have chosen. I'm proud of him now.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXII—BEGINNINGS - </h2> - <h3> - 1 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE day of sudden - and dramatic peace was drawing near its close. Seated on the parapet of a - rifle pit Betty and Brachey looked out over the red-brown valley. Long, - faintly purple shadows lay along the hillside and in the deeper hollows. - From the compound, half-way down the slope, a confusion of pleasant sounds - came to their ears—youthful voices, snatches of song, an - energetically whistled Sousa march, the quaintly plaintive whine of - Chinese woodwinds—while above the roofs of tile and iron within the - rectangle of wall (that was still topped with brown sand-bags) wisps of - smoke drifted lazily upward. - </p> - <p> - “It seems queer,” mused he, aloud, “sitting here like this, with - everything so peaceful. During the fighting I didn't feel nervous, but now - I start at every new sound. I loathed it, too; but now, this evening, I - miss it, in a way.” He gazed moodily down into the short trench. “Right - there,” he said, “young Bartlett was hit.” - </p> - <p> - “And you brought him in under fire.” - </p> - <p> - “A Chinaman helped me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it was you,” she said. “He wouldn't have done it. I watched from the - window.” Her chin was propped on two small lists; her eyes, reflective, - were looking out over the compound and the valley toward the walled temple - on the opposite slope with its ornate, curving roofs and its little group - of trees that were misty with young foliage. “I've been thinking a good - deal about that, and some other things. All you said, back there on the - ship, about independence and responsibility.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't believe I care to remember that,” said he quietly. - </p> - <p> - “But, John, if you will say startling, strong things to an impressionable - girl—and I suppose that's all I was then—you can't expect her - to forget them right away.” - </p> - <p> - His face relaxed into a faint, fleeting smile. But she went earnestly on. - </p> - <p> - “Of course I know it wasn't really long ago. Not if you measure it by - weeks. But if you measure it by human experience it was—well, - years.” - </p> - <p> - He was sober again; cheek on hand, gazing out into those lengthening, - deepening shadows. - </p> - <p> - “That was what we quarreled about, John. I felt terribly upset. I was blue—I - can't tell you! Just the thought of all your life meant to you, and how I - seemed to be spoiling it.” - </p> - <p> - A strong hand drew one of hers down and closed about it. “I'm going to try - to tell you something, dear,” he said. “You thought that what I said to - you, on the ship, was an expression of a real philosophy of life.” - </p> - <p> - “But what else could it have been, John?” - </p> - <p> - “It was just a chip—right here.” He raised her hand and with it - patted his shoulder. “It was what I'd tried for years to believe. I was - bent on believing it. You know, Betty, the thing we assert most positively - isn't our real faith. We don't have to assert that. It's likely to be what - we're trying to convince ourselves of.... I'm just beginning to understand - that, just lately, since you came into my life—and during the - fighting. I had to bolster myself up in the faith that a man can run away, - live alone, because it seemed to be the only basis on which I, as I was, - could deal with life. The only way I could get on at all. But you see what - happened to me. Life followed me and finally caught me, away out here in - China. No, you can't get away from it. You can't live selfishly. It won't - work. We're all in together. We've got to think of the others..... I'm - like a beginner now—going to school to life. I don't even know what - I believe. Not any more. I—I'm eager to learn, from day to day. The - only thing I'm sure of”... he turned, spoke with breathless awe in his - voice... “is that I love you, dear That's the foundation on which my life - has got to be built. It's my religion, I'm afraid.” - </p> - <p> - Betty's eyes filled; her little fingers twisted in among his; but she - didn't speak then. - </p> - <p> - The shadows stretched farther and farther along the hillside. The sun, a - huge orange disc descending amid coppery strips of shining cloud, touched - the rim of the western hills; slid smoothly, slowly down behind it, - leaving a glowing vault of gold and rose and copper overhead and a - luminous haze in the valley. Off to the eastward, toward Shau T'ing and - the crumbling ruins of the Southern Wall (which still winds sinuously for - hundreds of miles in and out of the valleys, and over and around the - hills) the tumbling masses of upheaved rock and loess were deeply purple - against a luminous eastern sky. - </p> - <p> - “Will you let me travel with you, John? I've thought that I could draw - while you write. Maybe I could even help you with your books. It would be - wonderful—exploring strange places. I'd like to go down through - Yunnan, and over the border into Siam and Assam and the Burmah country. - I've been reading about it, sitting in the hospital at night.” - </p> - <p> - “There would be privation—and dangers.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't care.” - </p> - <p> - “You wouldn't be afraid?” - </p> - <p> - “Not with you. And if—if anything happened to you, I'd want to go, - too.... Of course, there'd be other problems coming up. Don't think I'm - altogether impractical, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “What are you thinking of?” - </p> - <p> - She hesitated. “Children, John. I know we shan't either of us be satisfied - to live just for our happiness in each other. I couldn't help thinking - about that, watching you here, during the siege.” - </p> - <p> - “No, we shan't.” - </p> - <p> - “And with your work what it is—what it's got to be there's our first - problem.” - </p> - <p> - “We'll have to take life as it comes.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I know.” They were silent again. Gradually the brilliant color was - fading from the sky and the distant hills softening into mystery.... - “Father says that we'll find marriage a job—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it's that!” - </p> - <p> - “Full of surprises and compromises and giving up. He says it's very - difficult, but very wonderful.” - </p> - <p> - “I should think,” said Brachey, his voice somewhat unsteady, “that it - would be the most wonderful job in the world. Its very complexities, the - nature of the demands it must make.” - </p> - <p> - “I know!” - </p> - <p> - After a long silence he asked, so abruptly that she looked swiftly up: - </p> - <p> - “Do you ever pray, dear?” - </p> - <p> - “Why—yes, I do.” - </p> - <p> - “Will you teach me? I've tried—up here in the trenches. I've thought - that maybe I'd pick up a copy of the English prayer-book. They'd have it - at Shanghai or Tientsin....” - </p> - <h3> - 2 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>usk was mounting - the hill-slopes. - </p> - <p> - “It was a strange talk father and I had. Nearly all the afternoon—while - you were checking up ammunition and things. It's the first time he's - really sat down with me like that like a friend, I mean—and talked - out, just as he felt. Oh, he's been kind. But it's queer about father and - me. You see, when they sent me over to the States, I was really only a - child. Mother was dead then, you know. Father was always hoping to get - over to see me, but there was all the strain of building up the missions - after the Boxer trouble, and then he'd had his vacation. And he couldn't - afford to bring me out here just for the journey.” - </p> - <p> - Brachey broke in here. “Did you ask him if he would marry us?” - </p> - <p> - She nodded. “Yes. And he won't. That's partly what I'm going to tell you. - He's resigned.” - </p> - <p> - “From the church?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. He thought of having Mr. Boatwright do it. But it seems that his - position is rather difficult. On account of his wife. She'll never be - friendly to us.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no!” - </p> - <p> - “I could see, though, that Dad was glad about our plan for an early - wedding. Of course, he's had me to think of, every minute. He did say that - the certain knowledge that I'm cared for will make it easier for him to - carry out his plans. But he wouldn't tell me what the plans are. It's odd. - He doesn't like to think of me as a responsibility. I could see that. I - mean, that he might have to do something he didn't believe in in order to - earn money for me. He said that he's been for years in a false position. I - never saw him so happy. He acts as if he'd been set free.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps he has,” Brachey reflected aloud. “It is strange—almost as - if we represented opposite swings of the pendulum, he and I. Perhaps we - do. I've not had enough responsibility, he's had too much. Probably one - extreme's as unhealthy as the other.” - </p> - <p> - “I've worried some about him, John. But he begs me not to. He's planning - now to sell all his things.” - </p> - <p> - “All?” - </p> - <p> - “Everything. Books, even. And his desk, that he's had since the first - years out here. Mr. Withery is going to be in charge at T'ainan, and Dad's - leaving the final arrangements to him.” - </p> - <p> - “You speak as if your father were going away, far off. And in a hurry.” - </p> - <p> - “He is. That's the strange thing. Just to tell about it, like this, makes - it seem'—well, almost wild. But when you talk with him you feel all - right about it. He's so steady and sure. Just as if at last he's hit on - the truth.” - </p> - <p> - The night drew its cloak swiftly over the valley. For a long time after - this conversation they sat there in silent communion with the dim hills; - she nestling in his arms; he dreaming of the years to come in which his - life—such was his hope—might through love find balance and - warmth. - </p> - <h3> - 3 - </h3> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>oane was at the - residence when Brachey left Betty there—at the door, chatting with - M. Pourmont. He walked away with Brachey. And the tired but still genial - Frenchman looked after them with a puzzled frown. - </p> - <p> - “Stroll a bit with me, will you?” said Doane. “I've got a few things to - say to you.” And outside the gate, he added soberly: “About the beastly - thing I did.” - </p> - <p> - “I've forgotten that,” said Brachey; stiffly, in spite of himself. - </p> - <p> - “No, you haven't. You never will. Neither shall I. What I have to say is - just this—it was an overwrought, half-mad man who attacked you.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course, I've come to see that. All you'd been through.” - </p> - <p> - “What I'd been through, Brachey, wasn't merely hardship, fighting, wounds. - It was something else, the wreck of my life. I'd had to stand by, in a - way, and look at the wreckage. I was doing the wrong thing, living wrong, - living a lie. For years I fought it, without being able to see that I was - fighting life itself. You see, Brachey, the power of dogmatic thinking is - great. It circumscribed my sense of truth for years.” - </p> - <p> - He fell silent for a moment, looking up at the stars. Then, simply, he - added this: - </p> - <p> - “I want you to know the whole truth. I feel that it is due you. My - struggle ended in sin. The plainest kind—with a woman—and - without a shred of even human justification. Just degradation.... I can - see now that it was a terrific shock. It nearly pulled me under, very - nearly. They want me to stay in the church, but I can't, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Brachey, “you wouldn't want to do that.” - </p> - <p> - “I couldn't. I went through the more or less natural morbid phases, of - course. That attack on you—” - </p> - <p> - “That was partly exhaustion,” said Brachey. “You weren't in condition to - analyze a situation that would have been difficult for anybody. And of - course I was in the position of breaking my pledge to you.” - </p> - <p> - “It was more than that, Brachey. The primitive resurgence in me simply - reached its climax then. No—let me have this out! I suspected you - because I had learned to suspect myself. That blow was a direct result of - my own sin. And I want you to know that I've come to see it for what it - was.” - </p> - <p> - “H'm!” mused Brachey. They were standing by a pile of weathering timbers, - beside the old Chinese highway. “Shall we sit a while?” Then—“I'd - have to think about that.” Finally—“I don't know but what your - analysis is sound. But”—he mused longer, then, his voice clouded - with emotion, broke out with—“God, man, what you must have suffered! - And after our row.... I can't bear to think of it.” And then, quite - forgetting himself, he rested a hand on Doane's arm. It was perhaps the - first time in his adult life that he had done so demonstrative a thing. - </p> - <p> - Doane compressed his lips, in the darkness, and stared away. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes,” he replied, after a moment, “I've suffered, of course. I even - made a rather cowardly try at suicide.” - </p> - <p> - “No—not—” - </p> - <p> - “On my return from Shau T'ing I walked into the Looker lines in broad - daylight. I rather hoped to go out that way. But the fighting was over. I - couldn't even get killed.” - </p> - <p> - He seemed as confiding as a child, this grave powerful man. And he was - Betty's father! Brachey was sensitively eager to help him. - </p> - <p> - “Betty said you had new plans. I wonder if you would feel like telling me - of them.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. I've meant to.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you going back to the States?” - </p> - <p> - “No. Not now. Not with things like this. My worldly possessions, when - everything is sold, will probably come down to a thousand or fifteen - hundred dollars. My library is worth a good deal more than that, but won't - bring it. I have a little in cash; not much. I've estimated that two - hundred dollars—gold, not Mex.—will get me down to Shanghai - and tide me over the first few delays. I'm giving Betty the rest, and - arranging for Withery to turn over to her the proceeds of any sale.” - </p> - <p> - “But what are you going to do down there?” - </p> - <p> - “Work. Preferably, for a while, with my hands.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't mean at common labor?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. Why not? I have a real gift for it. And I'm very strong.” - </p> - <p> - “That would mean putting yourself with yellow coolies. The whites wouldn't - like it; probably they wouldn't let you. And you have a brain. You're a - trained executive.” - </p> - <p> - “I won't take a small mental job. A large one—-that would really - keep me busy—yes. But there'll be no chance of that at first. And I - must be fully occupied. I want to be outdoors. I may take up some branch - of engineering, by way of private study. But at the moment I really don't - care....” He smiled, in the dark. Brachey felt the smile in his voice when - he spoke again. “I was forty-five years old this spring, Brachey. That's - young, really. I have this great physical strength. And I'm free. If I - have sinned, I have really no bad habits. I probably shan't be happy long - without slipping my shoulders under some new burden—a good heavy - one. But don't you see how interesting it will be to start new, at - nothing, with nothing? What an adventure?” - </p> - <p> - “It won't be with nothing, quite. There's your experience, your mental - equipment. With that, and health, and a little luck you can do anything.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Doane, “it is, after all, a clean start. I've been terribly - shaken.” - </p> - <p> - “So have I,” said Brachey gently. “And I'm starting new, too.” He rose; - stood for a moment quietly thinking; then turned and extended his hand. - “Mr. Doane, here we are, meeting at life's crossroads. You're starting out - on something pretty like my old road, and I'm starting on a road not - altogether unlike yours. The next few years are going to mean everything - to each of us. And what we both do with our lives is going to mean - everything to Betty. Let's, between us, make Betty happy.” His voice was a - little out of control, but he went resolutely on. “Let's, between us, help - her to grow—enrich her life all we can—give her every chance - to develop into the woman your daughter has a right to become!” - </p> - <p> - Doane sprang up; stood over him; enveloped his hand in a huge fist and - nearly crushed it. - </p> - <h3> - 4 - </h3> - <p> - The Reverend Henry Withery came in that night, on a shaggy Manchu pony, - with his luggage behind on a cart. And late the following afternoon a - wedding took place at the residence. A great event was made of it by the - young people of the compound. The hills were searched for flowers. A - surprising array of presents appeared. Mrs. Boatwright was prevented from - attending by a severe headache, but her husband, at the last moment, came. - The other T'ainan folk were there. His Excellency, Pao Ting Chuan, with - fifteen attendant mandarins, in full official costume, among whom was Mr. - Po Sui-an, lent the color of Oriental splendor to the occasion. His - Excellency's gift was a necklace of jade with a pendant of ancient worked - gold. Withery performed the ceremony; and Griggsby Doane gave the bride. - </p> - <p> - The young couple were leaving in the morning for Peking, at which city the - groom purposed continuing for the present his study of the elements of - unrest in China. - </p> - <p> - Directly after the wedding and reception a remarkably elaborate dinner was - served in the large diningroom, at winch Griggsby Doane appeared for a - brief time to join in the merrymaking with an appearance of <i>savoir - faire</i> that M. Pourmont, shrewdly taking in, found reassuring; but he - early took a quiet leave. - </p> - <p> - At dusk, after the talking machine had been turned on and the many young - men were dancing enthusiastically with the few young women, the newly - wedded couple slipped out and walked down to the gate. Here, outside in - the purple shadows, they waited until a huge man appeared, dressed in - knickerbockers, a knapsack on his back and a weatherbeaten old walking - stick in his hand. - </p> - <p> - The bride clung to him for a long moment. The groom wrung his hand. Then - the two stood, arm in arm, looking after him as he descended to the - highroad and strode firmly, rapidly eastward, disappearing in the village - and reappearing on the slope beyond, waving a final farewell with stick - and cap—very dimly they could see him—just before he stepped - through the old scenic arch at the top of the hill. - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hills of Han, by Samuel Merwin - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILLS OF HAN *** - -***** This file should be named 53997-h.htm or 53997-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/9/53997/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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- <head>
- <title>Hills of Han, by Samuel Merwin
-</title>
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-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hills of Han, by Samuel Merwin
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: Hills of Han
- A Romantic Incident
-
-Author: Samuel Merwin
-
-Illustrator: Walt Louderback
-
-Release Date: January 18, 2017 [EBook #53997]
-Last Updated: May 5, 2018
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILLS OF HAN ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- HILLS OF HAN
- </h1>
- <h3>
- A Romantic Incident
- </h3>
- <h2>
- By Samuel Merwin
- </h2>
- <h3>
- Illustrated by Walt Louderback
- </h3>
- <h4>
- Indianapolis
- </h4>
- <h5>
- The Bobbs. Merrill Company Publishers
- </h5>
- <h3>
- 1919
- </h3>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0011.jpg" alt="0011 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0011.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p class="indent30">
- Hills of Han,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Slumber on! The sunlight, dying,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Lingers on your terraced tops;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Yellow stream and willow sighing,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Field of twice ten thousand crops
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Breathe their misty lullabying,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Breathe a life that nei'er stops.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Spin your chart of ancient wonder,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Fold your hands within your sleeve,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Live and let live, work and ponder,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Be tradition, dream, believe...
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- So abides your ancient plan,
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Hills of Han!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Hills of Han,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- What's this filament goes leaping
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Pole to pole and hill to hill?
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- What these strips of metal creeping
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Where the dead have lain so still.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- What this wilder thought that's seeping
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Where was peace and gentle will?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Smoke of mill on road and river,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Roar of steam by temple wall...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Drop the arrow in the quiver...
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Bow to Buddha.... All is all!
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Slumber they who slumber can,
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Hills of Han!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> NOTE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>HILLS OF HAN</b> </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—THE SOLITARY </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II—ROMANCE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III—THE SHEPHERD </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV—THE RIDDLE OF LIFE, AND OF DEATH
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V—IN T'AINAN </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—CATASTROPHE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII—LOVE IS A TROUBLE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII—THE WAYFARER </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX—KNOTTED LIVES </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—GRANITE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI—EMOTION </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII—STORM CENTER </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—THE PLEDGE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV—DILEMMA </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV—THE HILLS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI—DESTINY </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII—APPARITION </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—THE DARK </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX—LIVING THROUGH </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX—LIGHT </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI—THE SOULS OF MEN </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII—BEGINNINGS </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- NOTE
- </h2>
- <p>
- The slight geographical confusion which will be found by the observant
- reader in <i>Hills of Han</i> is employed as a reminder that the story,
- despite considerable elements of fact in the background, is a work of the
- imagination, and deals with no actual individuals of the time and place.
- S. M.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- HILLS OF HAN
- </h1>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I—THE SOLITARY
- </h2>
- <h3>
- I
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N a day in late
- March, 1907, Miss Betty Doane sat in the quaintly airy dining-room of the
- Hotel Miyaka, at Kioto, demurely sketching a man's profile on the back of
- a menu card.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man, her unconscious model, lounged comfortably alone by one of the
- swinging windows. He had finished his luncheon, pushed away his coffee
- cup, lighted a cigarette, and settled back to gaze out at the hillside
- where young green grasses and gay shrubs and diminutive trees bore
- pleasant evidence that the early Japanese springtime was at hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty could even see, looking out past the man, a row of cherry trees, all
- afoam with blossoms. They brought a thrill that was almost poignant. It
- was curious, at home—or, rather, back in the States—there was
- no particular thrill in cherry blossoms. They were merely pleasing. But so
- much more was said about them here in Japan.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man's head was long and well modeled, with a rugged long face,
- reflective eyes, somewhat bony nose, and a wide mouth that was, on the
- whole, attractive. Both upper lip and chin were dean shaven. The eyebrows
- were rather heavy; the hair was thick and straight, slanting down across a
- broad forehead. She decided, as she sketched it in with easy sure strokes
- of a stubby pencil, that he must have quite a time every morning brushing
- that hair down into place.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had appeared, a few days back, at the Grand Hotel, Yokohama, coming in
- from somewhere north of Tokio. At the hotel he had walked and eaten alone,
- austerely. And, not unnaturally, had been whispered about. He was, Betty
- knew, a journalist of some reputation. The name was Jonathan Brachey. He
- wore an outing suit, with knickerbockers; he was, in bearing, as in
- costume, severely conspicuous. You thought of him as a man of odd
- attainment. He had been in many interesting corners of the world; had
- known danger and privation. Two of his books were in the ship's library.
- One of these she had already taken out and secreted in her cabin. It was
- called <i>To-morrow in India</i>, and proved rather hard to read, with
- charts, diagrams and pages of figures.
- </p>
- <p>
- The sketch was about done; all but the nose. When you studied that nose in
- detail it seemed a little too long and strong, and—well, knobby—to
- be as attractive as it actually was. There would be a trick in drawing it;
- a shadow or two, a suggestive touch of the pencil; not so many real knobs.
- In the ship's diningroom she had his profile across an aisle. There would
- be chances to study it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Behind her, in the wide doorway, appeared a stout, short woman of fifty or
- more, in an ample and wrinkled traveling suit of black and a black straw
- hat ornamented only with a bow of ribbon. Her face wore an anxious
- expression that had settled, years back, into permanency. The mouth
- drooped a little. And the brows were lifted and the forehead grooved with
- wrinkles suggesting some long habitual straining of the eyes that recent
- bifocal spectacles were powerless to correct.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Betty!” called the older woman guardedly. “Would you mind, dear... one
- moment...?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her quick, nervous eyes had caught something of the situation. There was
- Betty and—within easy earshot—a man. The child was
- unquestionably sketching him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty's eagerly alert young face fell at the sound. She stopped drawing;
- for a brief instant chewed the stubby pencil; then, quite meekly, rose and
- walked toward the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Hasmer is outside. I thought you were with him. Betty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No... I didn't know your plans... I was waiting here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, my dear... it's all right, of course! But I think we'll go now. Mr.
- Hasmer thinks you ought to see at least one of the temples. Something
- typical. And of course you will want to visit the cloisonné and <i>satsuma</i>
- shops, and see the Damascene work. The train leaves for Kobe at
- four-fifteen. The ships sails at about eight, I believe. We haven't much
- time, you see.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A chair scraped. Jonathan Brachey had picked up his hat, his pocket camera
- and his unread copy of the Japan <i>Times</i>, and was striding toward
- her, or toward the door. He would pass directly by, of course, without so
- much as a mental recognition of her existence. For so he had done at
- Yokohama; so he had done last evening and again this morning on the ship.
- </p>
- <p>
- But on this occasion, as he bore down on her, the eyes of the
- distinguished young man rested for an instant on the table, and for a
- brief moment he wavered in his stride. He certainly saw the sketch. It lay
- where she had carelessly tossed it, face up, near the edge of the table.
- And he certainly recognized it for himself; for his strong facial muscles
- moved a very little. It couldn't have been called a smile; but those
- muscles distinctly moved. Then, as coolly as before, he strode on out of
- the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty's cheeks turned crimson. A further fact doubtless noted by this
- irritatingly, even arrogantly composed man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty, with desperate dignity, put the sketch in her wrist bag, followed
- Mrs. Hasmer out of the building, and stepped into the rickshaw that
- awaited her.
- </p>
- <p>
- The brown-legged coolie tucked the robe about her, stepped in between the
- shafts of the vehicle; a second coolie fell into place behind, and they
- were off down the hill. Just ahead, Mrs. Hasmer's funny little hat bobbed
- with the inequalities of the road. Just behind, Doctor Hasmer, a calm,
- patient man who taught philosophy and history in a Christian college
- fifteen hundred miles or more up the Yangtse River and who never could
- remember to have his silvery beard trimmed, smiled kindly at her when she
- turned.
- </p>
- <p>
- And behind him, indifferent to all the human world, responsive in his
- frigid way only to the beauties of the Japanese country-side and of the
- quaint, gray-brown, truly ancient city extending up and down the valley by
- its narrow, stone-walled stream, rode Mr. Jonathan Brachey.
- </p>
- <p>
- The coolies, it would seem, had decided to act in concert. From shop to
- shop among the crowded little streets went the four rickshaws. Any mere
- human being (so ran Betty's thoughts) would have accepted good-humoredly
- the comradeship implied in this arrangement on the part of a playful fate;
- but Mr. Brachey was no mere human being. Side by side stood the four of
- them in a toy workshop looking down at toy-like artisans with shaved and
- tufted heads who wore quaint robes and patiently beat out designs in gold
- and silver wire on expertly fashioned bronze boxes and bowls. They
- listened as one to the thickly liquid English of a smiling merchant
- explaining the processes and expanding on the history of fine handiwork in
- this esthetic land. Yet by no sign did Mr. Brachey's face indicate that he
- was aware of their presence; except once—on a crooked stairway in a
- cloisonné shop he flattened himself against the wall to let them pass,
- muttering, almost fiercely, “I beg your pardon!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The moment came, apparently, when he could endure this enforced
- companionship no longer. He spoke gruffly to his rickshaw coolies, and
- rolled off alone. When they finally reached the railway station after a
- half-hour spent in wandering about the spacious enclosure of the Temple of
- Nishi Otani, with its huge, shadowy gate house, its calm priests, its
- exquisite rock garden under ancient mystical trees—the tall
- journalist was pacing the platform, savagely smoking a pipe.
- </p>
- <p>
- At Kobe they were united again, riding out to the ship's anchorage in the
- same launch. But Mr. Brachey gave no sign of recognition. He disappeared
- the moment of arrival at the ship, reappearing only when the bugle
- announced dinner, dressed, as he had been each evening at the Grand Hotel
- and the previous evening on the ship, rather stiffly, in dinner costume.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the ship moved out from her anchorage into that long, island-studded,
- green-bordered body of water known as the Inland Sea of Japan. Early on
- the second morning she would slip in between the closepressing hills that
- guard Nagasaki harbor. There another day ashore. Then three days more
- across the Yellow Sea to Shanghai. Thence, for the Hasmers and Betty, a
- five-day journey by steamer up the muddy but majestic Yangtze Kiang to
- Hankow; at which important if hardly charming city they would separate,
- the Hasmers to travel on by other, smaller steamer to Ichang and thence on
- up through the Gorges to their home among the yellow folk of Szechwan,
- while Hetty, from Hankow, must set out into an existence that her highly
- colored young mind found it impossible to face squarely. As yet, despite
- the long journey across the American continent and the Pacific, she hadn't
- begun so much as to believe the facts. Though there they stood, squarely
- enough, before her. It had been easier to surrender her responsive, rather
- easily gratified emotions to a day-by-day enjoyment of the journey itself.
- When the constant, worried watchfulness of Mrs. Hasmer reached the point
- of annoyance—not that Mrs. Hasmer wasn't an old dear; kindness
- itself, especially if your head ached or you needed a little mothering!—why
- then, with the easy adaptability and quick enthusiasm of youth, she simply
- busied herself sketching. The top layer of her steamer trunk was nearly
- full now—sketches of the American desert, of the mountains and San
- Francisco, of people on the ship, of the sea and of Honolulu.
- </p>
- <p>
- But now, with Yokohama back among the yesterdays and Kobe falling rapidly,
- steadily astern, Betty's heart was as rapidly and as steadily sinking.
- Only one more stop, and then—China. In China loomed the facts.
- </p>
- <p>
- That night, lying in her berth, Betty, forgot the cherry blossoms of Kioto
- and the irritating Mr. Brachey. Her thoughts dwelt among the young
- friends, the boy-and-girl “crowd,” she had left behind, far off, at the
- other edge of those United States that by a queerly unreal theory were her
- home-land. And, very softly, she cried herself to sleep.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>etty Doane was
- just nineteen. She was small, quick to feel and think, dark rather than
- light (though not an out-and-out brunette). She was distinctly pretty. Her
- small head with its fine and abundant hair, round face with its ever-ready
- smile, alert brown eyes and curiously strong little chin expressed, as did
- her slim quick body, a personality of considerable sprightly vigor and of
- a charm that could act on certain other sorts of personalities,
- particularly of the opposite sex, with positive, telling effect.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Hasmer, who had undertaken, with misgivings, to bring her from
- suburban New Jersey to Hankow, found her a heavy responsibility. It wasn't
- that the child was insubordinate, forward, or, in anyway that you could
- blame her for, difficult. On the contrary, she was a dear little thing,
- kind, always amusing, eager to please. But none the less there was
- something, a touch of vital quality, perhaps of the rare gift of
- expressiveness, that gave her, at times, a rather alarming aspect. Her
- clothes were simple enough—Griggsby Doane, goodness knew, couldn't
- afford anything else—but in some way that Mrs. Hasmer would never
- fully understand, the child always managed to make them look better than
- they were. She had something of the gift of smartness. She had, Mrs.
- Hasmer once came out with, “too much imagination.” The incessant
- sketching, for instance. And she did it just a shade too well. Then, too,
- evening after evening during the three weeks on the Pacific, she had
- danced. Which was, from the only daughter of Griggsby Doane—well,
- confusing. And though Mrs. Hasmer, balked by the delicacy of her position,
- had gone to lengths in concealing her disapproval, she had been unable to
- feign surprise at the resulting difficulties. Betty had certainly not been
- deliberate in leading on any of the men on the ship; young men, by the way
- that you had no means of looking up, even so far as the certainty that
- they were unmarried. But the young mining engineer on his way to Korea had
- left quite heart-broken. From all outer indications he had proposed
- marriage and met with a refusal. But not a word, not a hint, not so much
- as a telltale look, came from Betty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Hasmer sighed over it. She would have liked to know. She came to the
- conclusion that Betty had been left just a year or so too long in the
- States. They weren't serious over there, in the matter of training girls
- for the sober work of life. Prosperity, luxury, were telling on the
- younger generations. No longer were they guarded from dangerously free
- thinking. They read, heard, saw everything; apparently knew everything.
- They read openly, of a Sunday, books which, a generation earlier, would
- not have reached their eyes even on a week-day. The church seemed to have
- lost its hold (though she never spoke aloud of this fact). Respect for
- tradition and authority had crumbled away. They questioned, weighed
- everything, these modern children.... Mrs. Hasmer worried a good deal, out
- in China, about young people in the States.
- </p>
- <p>
- But under these surface worries, lurked, in the good woman's mind, a
- deeper, more real worry. Betty was just stepping over the line between
- girlhood and young womanhood. She was growing more attractive daily. She
- was anything but fitted to step into the life that lay ahead. Wherever she
- turned, even now—as witness the Pacific ship—life took on
- fresh complications. Indeed, Mrs. Hasmer, pondering the problem, came down
- on the rather strong word, peril. A young girl—positive in
- attractiveness, gifted, spirited, motherless (as it happened), trained
- only to be happy in living—was in something near peril.
- </p>
- <p>
- One fact which Mrs. Hasmer's mind had been forced to accept was that most
- of the complications came from sources or causes with which the girl
- herself had little consciously to do. She was flatly the sort of person to
- whom things happened. Even when her eager interest in life and things and
- men (young and old) was not busy.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the matter of the rather rude young man in knickerbockers, at Kioto,
- Betty was to blame, of course. She had set to work to sketch him.
- Evidently. The most you could say for her on that point was that she would
- have set just as intently at sketching an old man, or a woman, or a child—or
- a corner of the room. Mrs. Hasmer had felt, while on the train to Kobe,
- that she must speak of the matter. After all, she had that deathly
- responsibility on her shoulders. Betty's only explanation, rather gravely
- given, had been that she found his nose interesting.
- </p>
- <p>
- The disturbing point was that something in the way of a situation was sure
- to develop from the incident. Something. Six weeks of Betty made that a
- reasonable assumption. And the first complication would arise in some
- quite unforeseen way. Betty wouldn't bring it about. Indeed, she had
- quickly promised not to sketch him any more.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is the way it did arise. At eleven on the following morning Mr. and
- Mrs. Hasmer and Betty were stretched out side by side in their steamer
- chairs, sipping their morning beef tea and looking out at the rugged north
- shore of the Inland Sea. Beyond Betty were three vacant chairs, then this
- Mr. Brachey—his long person wrapped in a gay plaid rug. He too was
- sipping beef tea and enjoying the landscape; if so dry, so solitary a
- person could be said to enjoy anything. A note-book lay across his knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Hasmer had thought, with a momentary flutter of concern, of moving
- Betty to the other side of Doctor Hasmer. But that had seemed foolish.
- Making too much of it. Betty hadn't placed the chairs; the deck steward
- had done that. Besides she hadn't once looked at the man; probably hadn't
- thought of him; had been quite absorbed in her sketching—bits of the
- hilly shore, an island mirrored in glass, a becalmed junk.
- </p>
- <p>
- A youngish man, hatless, with blond curls and a slightly professional
- smile, came up from the after hatch and advanced along the deck, eagerly
- searching the row of rug-wrapped, recumbent figures in deck chairs. Before
- the Hasmers he stopped with delighted greetings. It came out that he was a
- Mr. Harting, a Y. M. C. A. worker in Bttrmah, traveling second-class.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hadn't seen the passenger list, Mrs. Hasmer, and didn't know you were
- aboard. But there's a Chinese boy sitting next to me at table. He has put
- in a year or so at Tokio University, and speaks a little English. He comes
- from your city, Miss Doane. Or so he seems to think. T'ainan-fu.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty inclined her head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was he who showed me the passenger list. At one time, he says, he
- lived in your father's household.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is his name?” asked Betty politely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Li Hsien—something or other.” Mr. Harting was searching his pockets
- for a copy of the list.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I knew Li Hsien very well,” said Betty. “We used to play together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So I gathered. May I bring him up here to see you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty would have replied at once in the affirmative, but six weeks of
- companionship with Mrs. Hasmer had taught her that such decisions were not
- expected of her. So now with a vague smile of acquiescence, she directed
- the inquiry to the older woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly,” cried Mrs. Hasmer, “do bring him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- As he moved away, Betty, before settling back in her chair, glanced, once,
- very demurely, to her left, where Jonathan Brachey lay in what might have
- been described, from outer appearances, supercilious comfort.
- </p>
- <p>
- He hadn't so much as lifted an eyelid. He wasn't listening. He didn't
- care. It was nothing to him that Betty Doane was no idle, spoiled girl
- tourist, nothing that she could draw with a gifted pencil, nothing that
- she knew Chinese students at Tokio University, and herself lived at
- T'ainan-fu!... It wasn't that Betty consciously formulated any such
- thoughts. But the man had an effect on her; made her uncomfortable; she
- wished he'd move his chair around to the other side of the ship.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>i Hsien proved to
- be quite a young man, all of twenty or twenty-one. He had spectacles now,
- and gold in his teeth. He wore the conventional blue robe, Liack skull-cap
- with red button, and queue. More than four years were yet to elapse before
- the great revolution of 1911, with its wholesale queue-cutting and its
- rather frantic adoption, on the part of the better-to-do, of Western
- clothing—or, rather, of what they supposed was Western clothing....
- He was tall, slim, smiling. He shook hands with Betty, Western fashion;
- and bowed with courtly dignity to Doctor and Mrs. Hasmer.
- </p>
- <p>
- His manner had an odd effect on Betty. For six years now she had lived in
- Orange. She had passed through the seventh and eighth grades of the public
- school and followed that with a complete course of four years in high
- school. She had fallen naturally and whole-heartedly into the life of a
- nice girl in an American suburb. She had gone to parties, joined
- societies, mildly entangled herself with a series of boy admirers. Despite
- moderate but frank poverty she had been popular. And in this healthy,
- active young life she had very nearly forgotten the profoundly different
- nature of her earlier existence. But now that earlier feeling for life was
- coming over her like a wave. After all, her first thirteen years had been
- lived out in a Chinese city. And they were the most impressionable years.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was by no means a pleasant sensation. She had never loved China; had
- simply endured it, knowing little else. America she loved. It was of her
- blood, of her instinct. But now it was abruptly slipping out of her grasp—school,
- home, the girls, the boys, long evenings of chatter and song on a “front
- porch,” picnics on that ridge known locally as “the mountain,” matinées in
- New York, glorious sunset visions of high buildings from a ferry-boat, a
- thrilling, ice-caked river in winter-time, the misty beauties of the
- Newark meadows—all this was curiously losing its vividness in her
- mind, and drab old China was slipping stealthily but swiftly into its
- place.
- </p>
- <p>
- She knit her brows. She was suddenly helpless, in a poignantly
- disconcerting way. A word came—rootless. That was it; she was
- rootless. For an instant she had to fight back the tears that seldom came
- in the daytime.
- </p>
- <p>
- But then she looked again at Li Hsien.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was smiling. It came to her, fantastically, that he, too, was rootless.
- And yet he smiled. She knew, instantly, that his feelings were quite as
- fine as hers. He was sensitive, strung high. He had been that sort of boy.
- For that matter the Chinese had been a cultured people when the whites
- were crude barbarians. She knew that. She couldn't have put it into words,
- but she knew it. And so she, too, smiled. And when she spoke, asking him
- to sit in the vacant chair next to her, she spoke without a thought, in
- Chinese, the middle Hansi dialect.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then Mr. Jonathan Brachey looked up, turned squarely around and stared
- at her for one brief instant. After which he recollected himself and
- turned abruptly back.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Harting dropped down on the farther side of Doctor Hasmer. Which left
- his good wife between the two couples, each now deep in talk.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Hasmer's Chinese vocabulary was confined to a limited number of
- personal and household terms; and even these were in the dialect of
- eastern Szechwan. Just as a matter of taste, of almost elementary taste,
- it seemed to her that Betty should keep the conversation, or most of it,
- in English. She went so far as to lean over the arm of her chair and smile
- in a perturbed manner at the oddly contrasting couple who chatted so
- easily and pleasantly in the heathen tongue. She almost reached the point
- of speaking to Betty; gently, of course. But the girl clearly had no
- thought of possible impropriety. She was laughing now—apparently at
- some gap in her vocabulary—and the bland young man with the
- spectacles and the pigtail was humorously supplying the proper word.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Hasmer decided not to speak. She lay hack in her chair. The wrinkles
- in her forehead deepened a little. On the other side Mr. Halting was
- describing enthusiastically a new and complicated table that was equipped
- with every imaginable device for the demonstrating of experiments in
- physics to Burmese youth. It could be packed, he insisted, for transport
- from village to village, in a crate no larger than the table itself.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now, again, she caught the musical intonation of the young Chinaman.
- Betty, surprisingly direct and practical in manner if unintelligible in
- speech, was asking questions, which Li Hsien answered in turn, easily,
- almost languidly, but with unfailing good nature. Though there were a few
- moments during which he spoke rapidly and rather earnestly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Hasmer next became aware of the odd effect the little scene was
- plainly having on Jonathan Brachey. He fidgeted in his chair; got up and
- stood at the rail; paced the deck, twice passing close to the comfortably
- extended feet of the Hasmer party and so ostentatiously <i>not</i> looking
- at them as to distract momentarily the attention even of the deeply
- engrossed Betty. Mr. Harting, even, looked up. After all of which the man,
- looking curiously stern, or irritated, or (Betty decided) something
- unpleasant, sat again in his chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, a little later, Mr. Harting and Li Hsien took their leave and
- returned to the second-class quarters, astern.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Hasmer thought, for a moment, that perhaps now was the time to
- suggest that English be made the common tongue in the future. But Betty's
- eager countenance disarmed her. She sighed. And sighed again; for the
- girl, stirred by what she was saying, had unconsciously raised her voice.
- And that tall man was listening.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's queer how fast things are changing out here,” thus Betty. “Li Hsien
- is—you'd never guess!—a Socialist! I asked him why he isn't
- staying out the year at Tokio University, and he said he was called home
- to help the Province. Think of it—that boy! They've got into some
- trouble over a foreign mining syndicate—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Ho Shan Company,” explained Doctor Hasmer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty nodded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They've been operating rather extensively in Plonan and southern Chihli,”
- the educator continued, “and I heard last year that they've made a fresh
- agreement with the Imperial Government giving them practically a monopoly
- of the coal and iron mining up there in the Hansi Hills.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Doctor Hasmer, and he says that there's a good deal of feeling in
- the province. They've had one or two mass meetings of the gentry and
- people. He thinks they'll send a protest to Peking. He believes that the
- company got the agreement through bribery.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all unlikely,” remarked Doctor Hasmer mildly. “I don't know that
- any other way has yet been discovered of obtaining commercial privileges
- from the Imperial Government. The Ho Shan Company is... let me see... as I
- recall, it was organized by that Italian promoter, Count Logatti. I
- believe he went to Germany, Belgium and France for the capital.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Li has become an astonishing young man,” said Betty more gravely. “He
- talks about revolutions and republics. He doesn't think the Manchus can
- last much longer. The southern provinces are ready for the revolution now,
- he says—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That,” remarked Doctor Hasmer, “is a little sweeping.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Li is very sweeping,” replied Betty. “And he's going back now to
- T'ainan-fu for some definite reason. I couldn't make out what. I asked if
- he would be coming in to see father, and he said, probably not; that there
- wouldn't be any use in it. Then I asked him if he was still a Christian,
- and I think he laughed at me. He wouldn't say.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The conversation was broken by the appearance of a pleasant Englishman, an
- importer of silks, by the name of Obie. He had been thrown with the
- Hasmers and Betty in one of their sight-seeing jaunts about Tokio. Mr.
- Obie wore spats, and a scarf pin and cuff links of human bone from Borneo
- set in circlets of beaded gold. His light, usually amusing talk was
- liberally sprinkled with crisp phrases in pidgin-English.
- </p>
- <p>
- He spoke now of the beauties of the Inland Sea, and resumed his stroll
- about the deck. After a few turns, he went into the smoking-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jonathan Brachey, still with that irritably nervous manner, watched him
- intently; finally got up and followed him, passing the Hasmers and Betty
- with nose held high.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was early
- afternoon, when Mrs. Hasmer and Betty were dozing in their chairs, that
- Mr. Obie, looking slightly puzzled, came again to them. He held a card
- between thumb and forefinger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Miss Doane,” he said, “this gentleman asks permission to be presented.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Hasmer's hand went out a little way to receive the card; but Betty
- innocently took it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Jonathan Brachey,” she read aloud. Then added, with a pretty touch of
- color—“But how funny! He was with us yesterday, and <i>wouldn't</i>
- talk. And now....”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My go catchee?” asked Mr. Obie.
- </p>
- <p>
- To which little pleasantry Betty responded, looking very bright and
- pretty, with—“Can do!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She gives out too much,” thought Mrs. Hasmer; deciding then and there
- that the meeting should be brief and the conversation triangular.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Obie brought him, formally, from the smoking-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- He bowed stiffly. Betty checked her natural impulse toward a hearty
- hard-grip.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Hasmer, feeling hurried, a thought breathless, meant to offer him her
- husband's chair; but all in the moment Betty had him down beside her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came stark silence. The man stared out at the islands.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty, finding her portfolio on her lap, fingered it. Then this:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must begin, Miss Doane, with an apology....”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty's responsive face blanched. “What a dreadful man!” she thought. His
- voice was rather strong, dry, hard, with, even, a slight rasp in it.
- </p>
- <p>
- But he drove heavily on:
- </p>
- <p>
- “This morning, while not wishing to appear as an eavesdropper... that is
- to say... the fact is, Miss Doane, I am a journalist, and am at present on
- my way to China to make an investigation of the political—one might
- even term it the social—unrest that appears to be cropping out
- rather extensively in the southern provinces and even, a little here and
- there, in the North.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was dreadful! Stilted, clumsy, slow! He hunted painstakingly for words;
- and at each long pause Betty's quick young nerves tightened and tightened,
- mentally groping with him until the hunted word was run to earth.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was pounding on:
- </p>
- <p>
- “This morning I overheard you talking with that young Chinaman. It is
- evident that you speak the language.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh. yes,” Betty found herself saying, “I do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Not a word about the drawing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This young man, I gather, is in sympathy with the revolutionary spirit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He—he seems to be,” said Betty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now... Miss Doane... this is of course an imposition...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no,” breathed Betty weakly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “... it is, of course, an imposition... it would be a service I could
- perhaps never repay...” This pause lasted so long that she heard herself
- murmuring, “No, really, not at all!”—and then felt the color
- creeping to her face... but if I might ask you to... but let me put it in
- this way—the young man is precisely the type I have come out here to
- study. You speak in the vernacular, and evidently understand him almost as
- a native might. It is unlikely I shall find in China many such natural
- interpreters as yourself. And of course... if it is thinkable that you
- would be so extremely kind as to... why, of course, I...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heavens!” thought Betty, in a panic, “he's going to offer to pay me. I
- mustn't be rude.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man plodded on: “... why, of course, it would be a real pleasure to
- mention your assistance in the preface of my book.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was partly luck, luck and innate courtesy, that she didn't laugh aloud.
- She broke, as it was, into words, saving herself and the situation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You want me to act as interpreter? Of course Li knows a little English.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would he—er—know enough English for serious conversation?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” mused Betty aloud, “I don't think he would.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course, Miss Doane, I quite realize that to take up your time in this
- way....”
- </p>
- <p>
- There he stopped. He was frowning now, and apparently studying out the
- structural details of a huge junk that lay only a few hundred yards away,
- reflected minutely, exquisitely—curving hull and deck cargo,
- timbered stern, bat-wing sails—in the glass-like water.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll be glad to do what I can,” said Betty, helplessly. Then, for the
- first time, she became aware that Mrs. Hasmer was stirring uncomfortably
- on her other hand, and added, quickly, as much out of nervousness as
- anything else—“We could arrange to have Li come up here in the
- morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We shall be coaling at Nagasaki in the morning,” said he, abruptly, as if
- that settled <i>that</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, of course,... this afternoon....
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear,” began Mrs. Hasmer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This afternoon would be better.” Thus Mr. Brachey. “Though I can not tell
- you what hesitation...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suppose we could find a quiet corner somewhere,” said Betty. “In the
- social hall, perhaps.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was then, stirred to positive act, that Mrs. Hasmer spoke out.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think you'd better stay out here with us, my dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- To which the hopelessly self-absorbed Mr. Brachey replied:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I really must have quiet for this work. We will sit inside, if you don't
- mind.”
- </p>
- <h3>
- 5
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t half past four
- Mrs. Hasmer sent her husband to look into the situation. He reported that
- they were hard at it. Betty looked a little tired, but was laboriously
- repeating Li Hsien's words, in English, in order that Mr. Brachcy might
- take them down in what appeared to be a sort of shorthand. Doctor Hasmer
- didn't see how he could say anything. Not very well. They hadn't so much
- as noticed him, though he stood near by for a few moments.
- </p>
- <p>
- Which report Mrs. Hasmer found masculine and unsatisfactory. At five she
- went herself; took her Battenberg hoop and sat near by. Betty saw her, and
- smiled. She looked distinctly a little wan.
- </p>
- <p>
- The journalist ignored Mrs. Hasmer. He was a merciless driver. Whenever
- Betty's attention wandered, as it had begun doing, he put his questions
- bruskly, even sharply, to call her back to the task.
- </p>
- <p>
- Four bells sounded, up forward. Mrs. Hasmer started; and, as always when
- she heard the ship's bell, consulted her watch. Six o'clock!... She put
- down her hoop; fidgetted; got up; sat down again; told herself she must
- consider the situation calmly. It must be taken in hand, of course. The
- man was a mannerless brute. He had distinctly encroached. He would
- encroach further. He must be met firmly, at once. She tried to think
- precisely how he could be met.
- </p>
- <p>
- She got up again; stood over them. She didn't know that her face was a
- lens through which any and all might read her perturbed spirit.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty glanced up; smiled faintly; drew a long breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- Li Hsien rose and bowed, clasping his hands before his breast.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Bradley was writing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Hasmer had tried to construct a little speech that, however final,
- would meet the forms of courtesy. It left her now. She said with blank
- firmness:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, Betty!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One moment!” protested Mr. Brachey. “Will you please ask him, Miss Duane,
- whether he believes that the general use of opium has appreciably lowered
- the vitality of the Chinese people? That is, to put it conversely, whether
- the curtailment of production is going to leave a people too weakened to
- act strongly in a military or even political way? Surveying the empire as
- a whole, of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty's thoughts, which had wandered hopelessly afield, came struggling
- back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm afraid I didn't quite hear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must ask you to come with me, Betty,” said Mrs. Hasmer.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this, looking heavily disappointed, Mr. Brachey rose; ran a long bony
- hand through his thick hair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We could take it up in the morning,” he said, turning from the bland
- young Chinaman to the plainly confused girl. “That is, if Miss Doane
- wouldn't mind staying on the ship. I presume she has seen Nagasaki.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His perturbed eyes moved at last to the little elderly lady who had seemed
- so colorless and mild; met hers, which were, of a sudden, snapping coals.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will not take it up again, sir!” cried Mrs. Hasmer; and left with the
- girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Chinaman smiled, clasped his hands, bowed with impenetrable courtesy,
- and withdrew' to his quarters.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Brachey, alone, looked over his notes with a frown; shook his head;
- went down to dress for dinner.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 6
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ate that night
- Betty sat in her tiny stateroom, indulging rebellious thoughts. It was
- time, after an awkwardly silent evening, to go to bed. But instead she now
- slipped into her heavy traveling coat, pulled on her tam-o'-shanter,
- tiptoed past the Hasmers' door and went out on deck.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was dim and peaceful there. The throb of the engines and the wash of
- water along the hull were the only sounds. They were in the strait now,
- heading out to sea.
- </p>
- <p>
- She walked around the deck, and around. It was her first free moment since
- they left the Pacific ship at Yokohama. After that very quietly—sweetly,
- even—the chaperonage of Mrs. Hasmer had tightened. For Betty the
- experience was new and difficult. She felt that she ought to submit. But
- the rebellion in her breast, if wrong, was real. She would walk it off.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she met Mr. Brachey coming out of the smoking-room. Both stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was just getting a breath of air,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then they moved to the rail and leaned there, gazing off at the faintly
- moonlit land.
- </p>
- <p>
- He asked, in his cold way, how she had learned Chinese.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was born at T'ainan-fu,” she explained. “My father is a missionary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh,” said he. And again, “Oh!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then they fell silent. Her impulse at first was to make talk. She did
- murmur, “I really ought to be going in.” But he, apparently, found talk
- unnecessary. And she stayed on, looking now down at the iridescent foam
- slipping past the black hull, now up into the luminous night.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he remarked, casually, “Shall we walk?” And she found herself falling
- into step with him.
- </p>
- <p>
- They stopped, a little later, up forward and stood looking out over the
- forecastle deck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some day I'm going to ask the chief officer to let me go out there,” said
- she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It isn't necessary to ask him,” replied Mr. Brachey. “Come along.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh,” murmured Betty, half in protest—“really?” But she went,
- thrilled now, more than a little guilty, down the steps, past hatches and
- donkey engines, up other steps, under and over a tangle of cables, over an
- immense anchor, to seats on coils of rope near the very bow.
- </p>
- <p>
- The situation amounted already to a secret. Mrs. Hasmer couldn't be told,
- mused Betty. The fact was a little perplexing. But it stood.
- </p>
- <p>
- Neither had mentioned Mrs. Hasmer. But now he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was rude to-day, of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said she. “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! I'm that way. The less I see of people the better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This touched the half-fledged woman in her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're interested in your work,” said she gently. “That's all. And it's
- right. You're not a trifler.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm a lone wolf.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She was beginning to find him out-and-out interesting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You travel a good deal,” she ventured demurely. “All the time. I prefer
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Always alone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Always.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don't get lonesome?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes. But what does it matter?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She considered this. “You go into dangerous places.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You traveled among the head-hunters of Borneo.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How did you find that out?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's an advertisment of that book in <i>To-morrow in India</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, have you read that thing?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Part of it. I...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You found it dull.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well... it's a little over my head.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's over everybody's. Mine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She nearly laughed at this. But he seemed not to think of it as humor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aren't you a little afraid, sometimes—going into such dangerous
- places all alone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you might be hurt—or even—killed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's the difference?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Startled, she looked straight up at him; then dropped her eyes. She waited
- for him to explain, but he was gazing moodily out at the water ahead.
- </p>
- <p>
- The soft night air wrapped them about like dream-velvet. Adventure was
- astir, and romance. Betty, enchanted, looked lazily back at the white
- midships decks, bridge and wheelhouse, at the mysterious rigging and
- raking masts, at the foremost of the huge funnels pouring out great
- rolling clouds of smoke. The engines throbbed and throbbed. Back there
- somewhere the ship's bell struck, eight times for midnight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't care much for missionaries,” said Mr. Brachey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'd like father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He's a wonderful man. He's six feet five. And strong.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's a job for little men. Little souls. With little narrow eyes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh... No!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why try to change the Chinese? Their philosophy is finer than ours. And
- works better. I like them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So do I. But...” She wished her father could be there to meet the man's
- talk. There must surely be strong arguments on the missionary side, if one
- only knew them. She finally came out with:
- </p>
- <p>
- “But they're heathen!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They're—they're polygamous!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But Mr. Brachey...” She couldn't go on with this. The conversation was
- growing rather alarming.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So are the Americans polygamous. And the other white peoples. Only they
- call it by other names. You get tired of it. The Chinese are more honest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder,” said she, suddenly steady and shrewd, “if you haven't stayed
- away too long.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His reply was:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you live—you know, all by yourself, and for nobody in the world
- except yourself—I mean, if there's nobody you're responsible for,
- nobody you love and take care of and suffer for...” The sentence was
- getting something involved. She paused, puckering her brows.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, I only meant, isn't there danger of a person like that becoming—well,
- just selfish.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am selfish.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you don't want to be.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh. but I do!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can hardly believe that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dependence on others is as bad as gratitude. It is a demand, a weakness.
- Strength is better. If each of us stood selfishly alone, it would be a
- cleaner, better world. There wouldn't be any of this mess of obligation,
- one to another. No running up of spiritual debt. And that's the worst
- kind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But suppose,” she began, a little afraid of getting into depths from
- which it might be difficult to extreate herself, “suppose—well, you
- were married, and there were—well, little children. Surely you'd
- have to feel responsible for them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely,” said he curtly, “it isn't necessary for every man to bring
- children 'nto the world. Surely that's not the only job.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But—but take another case. Suppose you had a friend, a younger man,
- and he was in trouble—drinking, maybe; anything!—wouldn't you
- feel responsible for him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not at all. That's the worst kind of dependence. The only battles a man
- wins are the ones he wins alone. If any friend of mine—man or woman—can't
- win his own battles—or hers—he or she had better go. Anywhere.
- To hell, if it comes to that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He quite took her breath away.
- </p>
- <p>
- One bell sounded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's perfectly dreadful,” said she. “If Mrs. Has-mer knew I was out here
- at this time of night, she'd...”
- </p>
- <p>
- This sentence died out. They went back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good night,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- She felt that he must think her very young and simple. It seemed odd that
- he should waste so much time on her. No other man she had ever met was
- like him. Hesitantly, desiring at least a touch of friendliness, on an
- impulse, she extended her hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took it; held it a moment firmly; then said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you give me that drawing?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.” And she tiptoed twice again past the Hasmers' door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Please sign it,” said he, and produced a pencil. “But it seems so silly.
- I mean, it's nothing, this sketch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Please!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She signed it, said good night again, and hurried off, her heart in a
- curious flutter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II—ROMANCE
- </h2>
- <h3>
- I
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">U</span>NWILLING either to
- confess like a naughty child or to go on keeping this rather large and
- distinctly exciting secret under cover, Betty, at teatime, brought the
- matter to an issue. The morning ashore had been difficult. Mr. Brachey had
- severely ignored her, going about Nagasaki alone, lunching in austere
- solitude at the hotel.
- </p>
- <p>
- She said, settling herself in the deck chair:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mrs. Hasmer, will you ask Mr. Brachey to have tea with us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- After a long silence the older woman asked, stiffly: “Why, my dear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty compressed her lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doctor Hasmer saved the situation by saying quietly, “I'll ask him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was awkward from the first. The man was angular and unyielding. And
- Mrs. Hasmer, though she tried, couldn't let him alone. She was determined
- to learn whether he was married. She led up to the direct question more
- otariously than she knew. Finally it came. They were speaking of his
- announced plan to travel extensively in the interior of China.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be quite delightful to wander as you do,” she said. “Of course,
- if one has ties... you, I take it, are an unmarried man, Mr. Brachey ?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty had to lower her face to hide the color that came. If only Mrs.
- Hasmer had a little humor! She was a dear kind woman; but this!...
- </p>
- <p>
- The journalist looked, impassively enough, but directly, at his
- questioner.
- </p>
- <p>
- She met his gaze. They were flint on steel, these two natures.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are obviously not married,” she repeated.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked down at his teacup; thinking. Then, abruptly, he set it down on
- the deck, got up, muttered something that sounded like, “If you will
- excuse me...” and strode away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty went early to her cabin that evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had no more than switched on her light when the Chinese steward came
- with a letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- She locked the door then, and looked at the unfamiliar handwriting. It was
- small, round, clear; the hand of a particular man, a meticulous man. who
- has written much with a pen.
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned down the little wicker seat. Her cheeks were suddenly hot, her
- pulse bounding high.
- </p>
- <p>
- She skimmed it, at first, clear to the signature, “Jonathan Brachey”; then
- went back and read it through, slowly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was rude again just now,” (it began). “As I told you last night, it is
- best for me not to see people. I am not a social being. Clearly, from this
- time on, it will be impossible for me to talk with this Mrs. Hasmer. I
- shall not try again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I could not answer her question. But to you I must speak. It would be
- difficult even to do this if we were to meet again, and talk. But, as you
- will readily see, we must not meet again, beyond the merest greeting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was married four years ago. After only a few weeks my wife left me. The
- reasons she gave were so flippant as to be absurd. She was a beautiful
- and, it has seemed to me, a vain, spoiled, quite heartless woman. I have
- not seen her since. Two years ago she became infatuated with another man,
- and wrote asking me to consent to a divorce. I refused on the ground that
- I did not care to enter into the legal intrigues preliminary to a divorce
- in the state of her residence. Since then, I am told, she has changed her
- residence to a state in which 'desertion' is a legal ground. But I have
- received no word of any actual move on her part.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is strange that I should be writing thus frankly to you. Strange, and
- perhaps wrong. But you have reached out to me more of a helping hand than
- you will ever know. Our talk last night meant a great deal to me. To you I
- doubtless seemed harsh and forbidding. It is true that I am that sort of
- man, and therefore am best alone. It is seldom that I meet a person with
- whom my ideas are in agreement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I trust that you will find every happiness in life. You deserve to. You
- have the great gift of feeling. I could almost envy you that. It is a
- quality I can perceive without possessing. An independent mind, a strong
- gift of logic, stands between me and all human affection. I must say what
- I think, not what I feel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I make people unhappy. The only corrective to such a nature is work, and,
- whenever possible, solitude. But I do not solicit your pity. I find
- myself, my thoughts, excellent company.
- </p>
- <p>
- “With your permission I will keep the drawing. It will have a peculiar and
- pleasant meaning to me.”
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>etty lowered the
- letter, breathing out the single word, “Well!”
- </p>
- <p>
- What on earth could she have said or done to give him any such footing in
- her life?
- </p>
- <p>
- She read it again. And then again.
- </p>
- <p>
- An amazing man!
- </p>
- <p>
- She made, ready to go to bed, slowly, dawdling, trying to straighten out
- the curious emotional pressures on her mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- She read the letter yet again; considered it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Finally, after passing through many moods leading up to a tender sympathy
- for this bleak life, and then passing on into a state of sheer nervous
- excitement, she deliberately dressed again and went out on deck.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood by the rail, smoking.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have my letter?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. I've read it.” She was oddly, happily relieved at finding him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You shouldn't have come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She had no answer to this. It seemed hardly relevant. She smiled, in the
- dark.
- </p>
- <p>
- They fell to walking the deck. After a time, shyly, tacitly, a little
- embarrassed, they went up forward again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The ship was well out in the Yellow Sea now. The bow rose and fell slowly,
- rhythmically, beneath them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Moved to meet his letter with a response in kind, she talked of herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It seems strange to be coming back to China.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You've been long away?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Six years. My mother died when I was thirteen. Father thought it would be
- better for me to be in the States. My uncle, father's brother, was in the
- wholesale hardware business in New York, and lived in Orange, and they
- took me in. They were always nice to me. But last fall Uncle Frank came
- down with rheumatic gout. He's an invalid now. It must have been pretty
- expensive. And there was some trouble in his business. They couldn't very
- well go on taking care of me, so father decided to have me come back to
- T'ainan-fu.” She folded her hands in her lap.
- </p>
- <p>
- He lighted his pipe, and smoked reflectively.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That will be rather hard for you, won't it?” he remarked, after a time.
- “I mean for a person of your temperament. You are, I should say, almost
- exactly my opposite in every respect. You like people, friends. You are
- impulsive, doubtless affectionate. I could be relatively happy, marooned
- among a few hundred millions of yellow folk—though I could forego
- the missionaries. But you are likely, I should think, to be starved there.
- Spiritually—emotionally.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you think so?” said she quietly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.” He thought it, over “The life of a mission compound isn't exactly
- gay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it isn't.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you need gaiety.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder if I do. I haven't really faced it, of course. I'm not facing it
- now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just think a moment. You've not even landed in China yet. You're under no
- real restraint—still among white people, on a white man's ship,
- eating in European hotels at the ports. You aren't teaching endless
- lessons to yellow children, day in, day out. You aren't shut up in an
- interior city, where it mightn't even he safe for you to step outside the
- gate house alone. And yet you're breaking bounds. Right now—out here
- with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Already she was taking his curious bluntness for granted. She said now,
- simply, gently:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know. I'm sitting out here at midnight with a married man. And I don't
- seem to mind. Of course you're not exactly married. Still... A few days
- ago I wouldn't have thought it possible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you tell the Hasmers that you were out here last night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Shall you tell them about this?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She thought a moment; then, as simply, repeated: “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know. It's the way I feel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He nodded. “You feel it's none of their business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well—yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course, I ought to take you back, now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't feel as if I were doing wrong. Oh, a little, but...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ought to take you back.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She rested a hand on his arm. It was no more than a girlish gesture. She
- didn't notice that he set his teeth and sat very still.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I've thought this, though,” she said. “If I'm to meet you out here like—like
- this—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you're not to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well... here we are!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes... here we are!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was going to say, it's dishonest, I think, for us to avoid each other
- during the day. If we're friends...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If we're friends we'd better admit it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. I meant that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He fell to working at his pipe with a pocket knife She watched him until
- he was smoking again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mrs. Hasmer won't like it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can't help that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. Of course.” He smoked. Suddenly he broke out, with a gesture so
- vehement that it startled her: “Oh, it's plain enough—we're on a
- ship, idling, dreaming, floating from a land of color and charm and quaint
- unreality to another land that has always enchanted me, for all the dirt
- and disease, and the smells. It's that! Romance! The old web! It's
- catching us. And we're not even resisting. No one could blame you—you're
- young, charming, as full of natural life as a young flower in the morning.
- But I... I'm not romantic. To-night, yes! But next Friday, in Shanghai,
- no!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty turned away to hide a smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You think I'm brutal? Well—I am.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, you're not brutal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I am.... But my God! You in T'ainanfu! Child, it's wrong!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is simply a thing I can't help,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- They fell silent. The pulse of the great dim ship was soothing. One bell
- sounded. Two bells. Three.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> man of Jonathan
- Brachey's nature couldn't know the power his nervous bold thoughts and
- words were bound to exert in the mind of a girl like Betty. In her heart
- already she was mothering him. Every word he spoke now, even the strong
- words that startled her, she enveloped in warm sentiment.
- </p>
- <p>
- To Brachey's crabbed, self-centered nature she was like a lush oasis in
- the arid desert of his heart. He could no more turn his back on it than
- could any tired, dusty wanderer. He knew this. Or, better, she was like a
- mirage. And mirages have driven men out of their wits.
- </p>
- <p>
- So romance seized them. They walked miles the next day, round and round
- the deck. Mrs. Hasmer was powerless, and perturbed. Her husband counseled
- watchful patience. Before night all the passengers knew that the two were
- restless apart. They found corners on the boat deck, far from all eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- That night Mrs. Hasmer came to Betty's door; satisfied herself that the
- girl was actually undressing and going to bed. Not one personal word
- passed.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then, half an hour later, Betty, dressed again, tiptoed out. Her heart
- was high, touched with divine recklessness. This, she supposed, was wrong;
- but right or wrong, it was carrying her out of her girlish self. She
- couldn't stop.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey was fighting harder; but to little purpose. They had these two
- days now. That was all. At Shanghai, and after, it would be, as he had so
- vigorously said, different. Just these two days! He saw, when she joined
- him on the deck, that she was riding at the two days as if they were to be
- her last on earth. Intensely, soberly happy, she was passing through a
- golden haze of dreams, leaving the future to be what it might.
- </p>
- <p>
- They sat, hand in hand, in the bow. She sang, in a light pretty voice,
- songs of youth in a young land—college ditties, popular negro
- melodies, amusing little street songs.
- </p>
- <p>
- Very, very late, on the last evening, after a long silence—they had
- mounted to the boat deck—he caught her roughly in his arms and
- kissed her.
- </p>
- <p>
- She lay limply against him. For a moment, a bitter moment—for now,
- in an instant, he knew that she had never thought as far as this—he
- feared she had fainted. Then he felt her tears on his cheek.
- </p>
- <p>
- He lifted her to her feet, as roughly.
- </p>
- <p>
- She swayed away from him leaning against a boat.
- </p>
- <p>
- He said, choking:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can you get down the steps all right?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She bowed her head. He made no effort to help her down the steps. They
- walked along the deck toward the main companionway. Suddenly, with an
- inarticulate sound, he turned, plunged in at the smoking-room door, and
- was gone.
- </p>
- <p>
- Early in the morning the ship dropped anchor in the muddy Woosung. The
- breakfast hour came around, then quarantine inspection; but the silent
- pale Betty, her moody eyes searching restlessly, caught no glimpse of him.
- He must have taken a later launch than the one that carried Betty and the
- Hasmers up to the Bund at Shanghai. And during their two days in the
- bizarre, polyglot city, with its European façade behind which swarms all
- China, it became clear that he wasn't stopping at the Astor House.
- </p>
- <p>
- The only letter was from her father at T'ainan-fu.
- </p>
- <p>
- She watched every mail; and inquired secretly at the office of the river
- steamers an hour before starting on the long voyage up the Yangtse; but
- there was nothing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she recalled that he had never asked for her address, or for her
- father's full name. They had spoken of T'ainan-fu. He might or might not
- remember it.
- </p>
- <p>
- And that was all.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III—THE SHEPHERD
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>T the point where
- the ancient highway, linking Northern China with Thibet, the Kukunor
- region and Mongolia, emerges from the treeless, red-brown tumbling hills
- of Hansi Province there stands across the road—or stood, before the
- revolution of 1911—a scenic arch of masonry crowned with a curving
- elaborately ornamented roof of tiles. Some forgotten philanthropist
- erected it, doubtless for a memorial to forgotten dead. Through this arch
- the west-bound traveler caught his first view of the wide yellow valley of
- the Han, with its yellow river, its square-walled, gray-green capital
- city, and, far beyond, of the sharp purple mountains that might have been
- cut out of cardboard.
- </p>
- <p>
- The gray of old T'ainan lay in the massive battle-mented walls and in the
- more than six square miles of closely packed tile roofs; the green in its
- thousands of trees. For here, as in Peking and Sian-fu they had preserved
- the trees; not, of course, in the innumerable tortuous streets, where
- petty merchants, money-changers, porters, coolies, beggars, soldiers and
- other riffraff passed freely through mud or dust, but within the thousands
- of hidden private courtyards, in the yamens of governor, treasurer, and
- provincial judge, in temple grounds outside the walls, and in the compound
- of the American Mission. At this latter spot, by the way, could be seen,
- with the aid of field-glasses, the only two-story residence in T'ainan;
- quite a European house, built after the French manner of red brick trimmed
- with white stone, and rising distinctly above the typically gray roofs
- that clustered about its lower windows.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were bold gate towers on the city wall; eight of them, great
- timbered structures with pagoda roofs rising perhaps fifteen yards above
- the wall and thirty above the lowly roadway. The timber-work under the
- shadowing eaves had sometime been painted in reds, blues and greens; and
- the once vivid colors, though dulled now by weather and years, were still
- richly visible to the near-observer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Many smaller settlements, little gray clusters of houses, lay about the
- plain on radiating highways; for T'ainan boasted its suburbs. The hill
- slopes were dotted with the homes and walled gardens of bankers, merchants
- and other gentry. On a plateau just north of the Great Highway stood, side
- by side, two thirteen-roof pagodas, the pride of all central Hansi.
- </p>
- <p>
- About the city, on any day of the seven, twisting through the hundreds of
- little streets and in and out at the eight gates, moved tens of thousands
- of tirelessly busy folk, all clad in the faded blue cotton that spells
- China to the eye, and among these a slow-moving, never-ceasing tangle of
- wheeled and fourfooted local traffic.
- </p>
- <p>
- And along the Great Highway—down the hill slopes, through suburbs
- and city, over the river and on toward the teeming West; over the river,
- through city and suburbs and up the hills, toward the teeming East—flowed
- all day long the larger commerce that linked province with province and,
- ultimately, yellow man with white, at the treaty ports, hundreds of miles
- away. There were strings of laden camels with evil-looking Mongol drivers;
- hundreds and thousands of camels, disdainfully going and coming. There
- were hundreds and thousands of asses, patient little humorists, bearing
- panniers of coal lumps and iron ore from the crudely operated mines in the
- hills. There were hundreds and thousands of mule-drawn carts, springless,
- many with arched roofs of matting.
- </p>
- <p>
- Along the roadside, sheltered by little sagging canopies of grimy matting,
- or squatting in the dirt, were vendors of flat cakes and vinegary <i>sumshoo</i>
- and bits of this and that to wear. Naked children swarmed like flies in
- the sun.
- </p>
- <p>
- The day-by-day life of the oldest and least selfconscious civilization in
- the world was moving quietly, resistlessly along, as it had moved for six
- thousand years.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>everend Henry B.
- Withery, on a morning in late March, came, by springless cart, out of
- Kansu into T'ainan. A drab little man, with patient fervor in his eyes and
- a limp (this latter the work of Boxers in 1900). He was bound, on leave,
- for Shanghai, San Francisco and home; but a night at T'ainan with Griggsby
- Doane meant, even in the light of hourly nearing America, much. For they
- had shared rooms at the seminary. They had entered the yielding yet
- resisting East side by side. Meeting but once or twice a year, even less
- often, they had felt each other deeply across the purple mountains.
- </p>
- <p>
- They sat through tiffin with the intent preoccupied workers in the
- dining-room of the brick house; and Mr Withery's gentle eyes took in
- rather shrewdly the curious household. It interested him. There were
- elements that puzzled him; a suggestion of staleness in this face, of
- nervous overstrain in that; a tension.
- </p>
- <p>
- The several native workers smiled and talked less, he thought, than on his
- former visits.
- </p>
- <p>
- Little Mr. Boatwright—slender, dustily blond, always hitherto
- burning with the tire of consecration—was continually fumbling with
- a spoon, or slowly twisting his tumbler, the while moodily studying the
- table-cloth. And his larger wife seemed heavier in mind as in body.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Withery found the atmosphere even a little oppressive. He looked up
- about the comfortable, high ceiled room. Mounted and placed on the walls
- were a number of interesting specimens of wild fowl. Elmer Boatwright,
- though no devotee of slaughter or even of sport, had shot and mounted
- these himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery asked him now if he had found any interesting birds lately. The
- reply was little more than monosyllabic; it was almost the reply of a
- middle-aged man who has lost and forgotten the enthusiasm of youth.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was talk, of course; the casual surface chatter of folk who are
- deeply united in work. A new schoolroom was under construction. Jen Ling
- Pu, a native preacher, was doing well at So T'ung. The new tennis court
- wasn't, after all, long enough.
- </p>
- <p>
- During all this, Withery pondered. Griggsby was driving too hard, of
- course. The strongly ascetic nature of the man seemed to be telling on
- him; or perhaps it was running out, the fire of it, leaving only the force
- of will. That happened, of course, now and then, in the case of men gifted
- with great natural vitality.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then too, come to reflect on it, the fight had been hard, here in Hansi.
- Since 1900. Harder, perhaps, than anywhere else except Shantung and
- Chihli. Harder even than in those more easterly provinces, for they were
- nearer things. There were human contacts, freshening influences... . The
- Boxers had dealt heavily with the whites in Hansi. More than a hundred had
- been slain by fire or sword. Young women—girls like these two or
- three about the dinner table—had been tortured. Griggsby and his
- wife and the little girl had missed destruction only through the accident
- of a journey, in the spring, to Shanghai. And he had returned, dangerously
- early, to a smoldering ruin and plunged with all the vigor in his unusual
- body and mind at the task of reconstruction. The work in the province was
- shorthanded, of course, even yet. It would be so. But Griggsby was
- building it up. He even had the little so-called college, down the river
- at Hung Chan, going again, after a fashion. Money was needed, of course.
- And teachers. And equipment. All that had been discussed during tiffin. It
- was a rather heroic record. And it had not passed unobserved. At the
- Missionary Conference, at Shanghai, in 1906, Griggsby's report—carefully
- phrased, understated throughout, almost colorless—had drawn out
- unusual applause.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Doane's death occurred during the first year of that painful
- reconstruction. Griggsby's course, after that, from the day of the
- funeral, in fact, as you looked back over it, recalling this and that
- apparently trivial incident, was characteristic. The daughter was sent
- back to the States, for schooling. Griggsby furnished for himself, up in
- what was little more, really, than the attic of the new mission residence,
- a bare, severe little suite of bedroom and study. The newly married
- Boatwrights he installed, as something near master and mistress, on the
- second floor. The other white workers and teachers filled all but the two
- guest rooms, and, at times, even these. And then, his little institution
- organized on a wholly new footing, he had loaded himself sternly with
- work.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dinner was over. One by one the younger people left the room. And within a
- few moments the afternoon routine of the mission compound was under way.
- </p>
- <p>
- Through the open window came a beam of warm spring sunshine. Outside,
- across the wide courtyard Withery noted the, to him, familiar picture of
- two or three blue-clad Chinese men lounging on the steps of the gate
- house; students crossing, books in hand; young girls round and fresh of
- face, their slanting eyes demurely downcast, assembling before one of the
- buildings; two carpenters working deliberately on a scaffold. A
- soft-footed servant cleared the table. Now that the two friends were left
- free to chat of personal matters, the talk wandered into unexpectedly
- impersonal regions. Withery found himself baffled, and something puzzled.
- During each of their recent visits Griggsby's manner had affected him in
- this same way, but less definitely. The aloofness—he had once or
- twice ever, thought of it as an evasiveness—had been only a
- tendency. The old friendship had soon warmed through it and brought ease
- of spirit and tongue. But the tendency had grown. The present Griggsby was
- clearly going to prove harder to get at. That remoteness of manner had
- grown on him as a habit. The real man, whatever he was coming to be, was
- hidden now; the man whose very soul had once been written clear in the
- steady blue eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- And what a man he was! Mr. Withery indulged in a moment of sentiment as he
- quietly, shrewdly studied him, across the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- In physical size, as in mental attainments and emotional force, James
- Griggsby Duane had been, from the beginning, a marked man. He was
- forty-five now; or within a year of it. The thick brown hair of their
- student days was thinner-now at the sides and nearly gone on top. But the
- big head was set on the solid shoulders with all the old distinction. A
- notable fact about Griggsby Doane was that after winning intercollegiate
- standing as a college football player, he had never allowed his body to
- settle back with the years. He weighed now, surely, within a pound or two
- or three of his playing weight twenty-four years earlier. He had always
- been what the British term a clean feeder, eating sparingly of simple
- food. Hardly a day of his life but had at least its hour or two of violent
- exercise. He would rise at five in the morning and run a few miles before
- breakfast. He played tennis and handball. He would gladly have boxed and
- wrestled, but a giant with nearly six and a half feet of trained,
- conditioned muscle at his disposal finds few to meet him, toe to toe. His
- passion for walking had really, during the earlier years, raised minor
- difficulties about T'ainan. The Chinese were intelligent and, of course,
- courteous; but it was more than they could be asked to understand at
- first.
- </p>
- <p>
- It had worked out, gradually. They knew him now; knew he was fearless,
- industrious, patient, kind. During the later years, after the Boxer
- trouble, his immense figure, striding like him of the fabled
- seven-league-boots, had become a familiar, friendly figure in central
- Hansi. Not infrequently he would tramp, pack on shoulders, from one to
- another of the outlying mission stations; and thought nothing of covering
- a hundred and thirty or forty <i>li</i> where your cart or litter mules or
- your Manchu pony would stop at ninety and call it a day.
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery was bringing the talk around to the personal when Doane looked at
- his watch.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'll excuse me, Henry,” he said. “I've a couple of classes. But I'll
- knock off about four-thirty. Make yourself comfortable. Prowl about. Use
- my study, if you like.... Or wait. We were speaking of the Ho Shan
- Company. They've had two or three mass meetings here during the winter,
- and got up some statements.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do they suggest violence?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes.” Doane waved the thought carelessly aside. “But Pao will keep
- them in hand, I think. He doesn't want real trouble. But he wouldn't mind
- scaring the company into selling out. The gossip is that he is rather
- heavily interested himself in some of the native mines.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is Pao your governor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, the governor died last fall, and no successor has been sent out.
- Kang, the treasurer, is nearly seventy and smokes sixty to a hundred pipes
- of opium a day. Pao Ting Chuan is provincial judge, but is ruling the
- province now. He's an able fellow.”... Doane drew a thick lot of papers
- from an inner pocket, and selected one. “Read this. It's one of their
- statements. Pao had the translation made in his yamen. I haven't the
- original, but the translation is fairly accurate I believe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery took the paper; ignored it, and studied his friend, who had moved
- to the door. Doane seemed to have lost his old smile—reflective,
- shrewd, a little quizzical. The furrow between his eyes had deepened into
- something near a permanent frown. There were fine lires about and under
- the eyes that might have indicated a deep weariness of the spirit. Yet the
- skin was clear, the color good.... Griggsby was fighting something out;
- alone; through the years.
- </p>
- <p>
- Feeling this, Henry Withery broke out, in something of their old frank
- way.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do knock off, Grigg. Let's have one of the old talks. I think—I
- think perhaps you need me a little.” Doane hesitated. It was not like him
- to do that. “Yes,” he said gravely, but with his guard up, that curious
- guard, “it would be fine to have one of the old talks if we can get at
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned to go; then paused.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, by the way, I'm expecting Pourmont. A little later in the day. He's
- resident engineer for the Ho Shan Company, over at Ping Yang. Pierre
- François George Marie Pourmont. An amusing person. He feels a good deal of
- concern over these meetings. For that matter, he was mobbed here in
- February. He didn't like that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery found himself compressing his lips, and tried to correct that
- impulse with a rather artificial smile. It wasn't like Griggsby to speak
- in that light way. Like a society man almost. It suggested a hardening of
- the spirit; or a crust over deep sensitiveness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Men, he reflected, who have to fight themselves during long periods of
- time are often hardened by the experience, even though they eventually
- win.
- </p>
- <p>
- He wondered, moving to the window, and thoughtfully watching the huge man
- striding across the courtyard, if Griggsby Doane would be winning.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">U</span>p in the little
- study under the roof Mr. Withery sank into a Morris chair and settled back
- to read the views of the “Gentry and People of Hansi” on foreign mining
- syndicates. The documents had been typed on an old machine with an
- occasional broken letter; and were phrased in the quaint English that had
- long been familiar to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- First came a statement of the “five items” of difference between these
- “Gentry and People” and the Ho Shan Company—all of a technical or
- business nature. Only in the last “item” did the emotional reasoning
- common to Chinese public documents make its appearance.... “<i>Five</i>.
- In Honan the company boldly introduced dynamite, which is prohibited. The
- dynamite exploded and this gave rise to diplomatic trouble, a like thing
- might happen in Hansi with the same evil consequences.” Then followed this
- inevitable general statement:
- </p>
- <p>
- “At present in China, from the highest to the lowest, all are in
- difficulty—the annual for the indemnities amounts to Taels
- 30,000,000, and in every province the reforms involve great additional
- expenditure, while the authorities only know how to control the
- expenditure, but not how to reach fresh sources of income. Those in power
- can find no fresh funds and the people are extremely poor and all they
- have to trust to are a few feet of land which have not been excavated by
- the foreigners. Westerners say that the coal of Hansi is sufficient to
- supply the needs of the world for two thousand years; in other countries
- there is coal without iron, or iron without coal, but in Hansi there is
- abundance of both coal and iron and it forms one of the best manufacturing
- countries in the world. At present if there is no protection for China
- then that finishes it, but if China is to be protected how can Hansi be
- excluded from protection? Therefore all China and all Hansi must withstand
- the claims of the Ho Shan Company.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The company's agent general says that the agreement was drawn up with the
- Chinese Government, but at that time the people were unenlightened and
- traitors were suffered to effect stolen sales of Government lands, using
- oppression and disregarding the lives of the people. Now all the Gentry
- and People know how things are, and of what importance the consequences
- are for the lives of themselves and their families, and so with one heart
- they all withstand the company in whatever schemes it may have, for they
- are not willing to drop their hands and give themselves up to death, and
- if the officials will not protect the mines of Hansi then we will protect
- our mines ourselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We suggest a plan for the company, that it should state the sum used to
- bribe Hu Pin Chili, and to win over Chia Ching Jen and Liu O and Sheng
- Hsuan Hui and the Tsung Li Yamen, and the Wai Wu Pu and the Yu Chuan Pu,
- at the present time, and the bribes to other cruel traitors, and a
- detailed account of their expenditure in opening their mines since their
- arrival in China, and Hansi will repay the amount. If the company still
- pushes the claim for damages, in consequence of the delay in issuing the
- permit then the Hansi people will never submit to it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In conclusion the people of Hansi must hold to their mines till death,
- and if the Government and officials still unrighteously flatter the
- foreigners in their oppression and flog the people robbing them of their
- flesh and blood to give those to the foreigners then some one must throw
- away his life by bomb throwing and so repay the company, but we trust the
- company will carefully consider and weigh the matter and not push Hansi to
- this extremity.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Withery laid the documents on Doane's desk, and gave up an hour to
- jotting down notes for his own annual report. Then he took a long walk, in
- through the wall and about the inner city. He was back by four-thirty, but
- found no sign of his friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- At five a stout Frenchman arrived, a man of fifty or more, with a long,
- square-trimmed beard of which he was plainly fond. Doane returned then to
- the house.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he three men had
- tea in the study. M. Pourmont, with an apology, smoked cigarettes. Withery
- observed, when the genual Frenchman turned his head, that the lobe of his
- left ear was missing.
- </p>
- <p>
- M. Pourmont regarded the local situation seriously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Zay spik of you,” he explained to Griggsby Doane.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Zay say zat you have ze petit papier, ze little paper, all yellow, cut
- like ze little man an' woman. An' it is also zat zay say zat ze little
- girl, ze student, all ze little jeunes filles, is ze lowair vife of you,
- Monsieur It is not good, zat. At Paree ve vould say zat it is <i>se
- compliment</i>, but here it is not good. It is zat zay have not bifore
- spik like zat of Monsieur Doane.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane merely considered this without replying.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That statement of the Gentry and People looks rather serious to me,'' Mr.
- Withery remarked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It has its serious side,” said Doane quietly. “Put you see, of course,
- from the frankness and publicity of it, that the officials are back of it.
- These Gentry and People would never go so far unsupported. It wouldn't
- surprise me to learn that the documents originated within the yamen of his
- Excellency Pao Ting Chuan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very good,” said Withery. “Put if he lets it drift much further the
- danger will be real. Suppose some young hothead were to take that last
- threat seriously and give up his life in throwing a bomb—-what
- then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would be serious then, of course,” said Doane. “But I hardly think any
- one here would go so far unsupported.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes!” cried M. Pourmont, in some excitement, “an' at who is it zat zay
- t'row ze bomb? It is at me, <i>n'est ce pas?</i> At me! You tlink I forget
- v'en ze mob it t'rowr ze <i>bierre</i> at me? <i>Mais non!</i> Zay tear ze
- cart of me. Zay beat ze head of me. Zay destroy ze ear of me. <i>Ah, c'
- était terrible, ça!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They attacked Monsieur Pourmont while he was riding to the yamen for an
- audience with Pao,” Doane explained. “But Pao heard of it and promptly
- sent soldiers. 1 took it up with him the next day. He acted most
- correctly. The ringleaders of the mob were whipped and imprisoned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you mus' also say to Monsieur Vitieree zat ze committee of my <i>compagnie</i>
- he come to Peking—<i>quinze mille kilometres he come!</i>—an'
- now <i>Son Excellence</i> he say zay mus' not come here, into <i>ze
- province</i>. It is so difficult, ça! An' ze committee he is ver' angry.
- He swear at Peking. He cool ze—vat you say—-heels. An' ze work
- he all stop. No good! Noz-zing at all!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is all so, Henry.” Thus Doane, turning to his friend. “I don't mean
- to minimize the actual difficulties. But I do not believe we are in any
- such danger as in 1900. Even then the officials did it, of course. If they
- hadn't believed that the incantations of the Boxers made them immune to
- our bullets, and if they hadn't convinced the Empress Dowager of it, we
- should never have had the siege of the legations. But I am to have an
- audience with His Excellency tomorrow, at one, and will go over this
- ground carefully. I have no wish, myself, to underestimate the trouble. My
- daughter arrives next week.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” said Withery. “Oh... your daughter! From the States, Grigg?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I am to meet her at Hankow. The Hasmers brought her across.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's too bad, in a way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course. But there was no choice.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But zat is not all zat is!” M. Puurmont was pacing the floor now. “A boy
- of me, of ze <i>cuisine</i>, he go home las' week to So T'ung an' he say
- zat a—vat you call?—a circle..
- </p>
- <p>
- “A society?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Mais oui!</i> A society, she meet in ze night an' <i>fait l'exercise</i>—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They are drilling?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Oui!</i> Ze drill. It is ze society of Ze Great Eye.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never heard of that,” mused Griggsby aloud. “I don't really see what
- they can do. But I'll take it up to-morrow with, Pao. I would ask you,
- however, to remember that if the people don't know the cost of
- indemnities, there can be no doubt about Pao. He knows. And it is hard for
- me to imagine the province drifting out of his control for a single day.
- One event I am planning to watch closely is the fair here after the middle
- of April. Some of these agitators of the Gentry and People are sure to be
- on hand. We shall learn a great deal then.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'll be back then, Grigg?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes. By the tenth. I shan't delay at all at Hankow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It seemed to Henry Withery that his friend and host maneuvered to get him
- to retire first. Then he attributed the suspicion to his own disturbed
- thoughts.... Still, Griggsby hadn't returned to the house until after M.
- Pourmont's arrival. It was now nearly midnight, and there had been never a
- personal word.
- </p>
- <p>
- But at last, M. Pourmont out of the way for the night, lamp in hand,
- Griggsby led the way to the remaining guest room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery, following, looked up at the tall grave man, who had to stoop a
- little at the doors. Would Griggsby put down the lamp, speak a courteous
- good night, and go off to his own attic quarters; or would he linger? It
- was to be a test, this coming moment, of their friendship.... Withery's
- heart filled. In his way, through the years, out there in remote Kansu, he
- had always looked up to Grigg and had leaned on him, on memories of him as
- he had been. He had the memories now—curiously poignant memories,
- tinged with the melancholy of lost youth. But had he still the friend?
- </p>
- <p>
- Duane set down the lamp, and looked about, all grave courtesy, to see if
- his friend's bag was at hand, and if the wash-stand and towel-rack had
- been made ready.
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery stood on the sill, struggling to control his emotions.
- Longfellow's lines came to mind:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “A boy's will is the wind's will,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And the thoughts of youth are long, long
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- thoughts.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- They were middle-aged now, they two. It was extraordinarily hard to
- believe. They had felt so much, and shared so much. They had plunged at
- missionary work with such ardor. Grigg especially. He had thrown aside
- more than one early opportunity for a start in business. He had sacrificed
- useful worldly acquaintances. His heart had burned to save souls, to carry
- the flame of divine revelation into what had then seemed a benighted,
- materialistic land.
- </p>
- <p>
- Grigg would have succeeded in business or in the service of his
- government. He had a marked administrative gift. And power.... Distinctly
- power.
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery stepped within the room, closed the door behind him, and looked
- straight up into that mask of a face; in his own deep emotion he thought
- of it as a tragic mask.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Grigg,” he said very simply, “what's the matter?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a silence. Then Doane came toward the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The matter?” he queried, with an effort to smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can't we talk, Grigg?... I know you are in deep trouble.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well”—Doane rested a massive hand on a bedpost—“I won't say
- that it isn't an anxious time, Henry. I'm pinning my faith to Pau Ting
- Chuan. But... And, of course, if I could have foreseen all the little
- developments, I wouldn't have sent for Betty. Though it's not easy to see
- what else I could have done. Frank and Ethel couldn't keep her longer. And
- the expense of any other arrangement... She's nineteen, Henry. A young
- woman. Curious—a young woman whom I've never even seen as such, and
- my daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It isn't that, Grigg.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At the moment Withery could say no more. He sank into a chair by the door,
- depressed in spirit.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane walked to the window; looked out at the stars; drummed a moment on
- the glass.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's been uphill work, Henry... since nineteen hundred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery cleared his throat. “It isn't that,” he repeated unsteadily.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane stood there a moment longer; then turned and gazed gloomily at his
- friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- The silence grew painful.
- </p>
- <p>
- Finally, Doane sighed, spread his hands in the manner of one who
- surrenders to fate, and came slowly over to the bed; stretching out his
- long frame there, against the pillows.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So it's as plain as that, Henry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is—to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder if I can talk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The question is, Grigg—can I help you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm afraid not, Henry. I doubt if any one can.” The force of this sank
- slowly into Withery's mind. “No one?” he asked in a hushed voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm afraid not.... Do you think the others, my people here, see it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The tone has changed here, Grigg.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I've tried not to believe it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I've felt it increasingly for several years. When I've passed through.
- Even in your letters. It's been hard to speak before. For that matter, I
- had formulated no question. It was just an impression. But today... and
- to-night...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's as bad as that, now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Suppose I say that it's as definite as that, Grigg. The impression.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane let his head drop back against the pillows; closed his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The words don't matter,” he remarked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, they don't, of course.” Withery's mind, trained through the busy
- years to the sort of informal confessional familiar to priests of other
- than the Roman church, was clearing itself of the confusions of friendship
- and was ready to dismiss, for the time, philosophically; the sense of
- personal loss.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it something you've done, Grigg?” he asked now, gently. “Have you—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane threw out an interrupting hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” he said rather shortly, “I've not broken the faith, Henry, not in
- act.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In your thoughts only?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. There.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is doubt?... Strange, Grigg, I never knew a man whose faith had in it
- such vitality. You've inspired thousands. Tens of thousands. You—I
- will say this, now—you, nothing more, really, than my thoughts of
- you carried me through my bad time. Through those doldrums when the ardor
- of the first few years had burned out and I was spent, emotionally. It was
- with your help that I found my feet again. You never knew' that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. I didn't know that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I worried a good deal, then. I had never before been aware of the church
- as a worldly organization, as a political mechanism. I hadn't questioned
- it. It was Hidderleigh's shrewd campaign for the bishopric that disturbed
- me. Then the money raised questions, of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's been a campaign on this winter, over in the States,” said Doane,
- speaking slowly and thoughtfully. “Part of that fund is to be sent here to
- help extend my work in the province. They're using all the old emotional
- devices. All the claptrap. Chaplain Cabell is touring the churches with
- his little cottage organ and his songs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But the need is real out here, Grigg. And the people at home must be
- stirred into recognizing it. They can't he reached except through their
- emotions. I've been through all that. I see now, clearly enough, that it's
- an imperfect world. We must do the best we can with it. Because it is
- imperfect we must keep at our work.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know as well as I what they're doing, Henry. Cabell, all that crowd,
- haven't once mentioned Hansi. They're talking the Congo.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you forget, Grigg, that the emotional interest of our home people in
- China has run out. They thought about us during the Boxer trouble, and
- later, during the famine in Shensi. Now, because of the talk of slavery
- and atrocities in Central Africa, public interest has shifted to that part
- of the world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so they're playing on the public sympathy for Africa to raise money,
- some of which is later to be diverted to Central China.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What else can they do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You find yourself inclined to question the whole process?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aren't you misplacing your emphasis, Grigg? We all do that, of course.
- Now and then.... Isn't the important thing for you, the emphatic thing, to
- spread the word of God in Hansi Province?” He leaned forward, speaking
- simply, with sincerity.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane closed his eyes again; and compressed his lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery, anxiously watching him, saw that the healthy color was leaving
- his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a silence that grew steadily in intensity, Doane at last opened his
- eyes, and spoke, huskily, but with grim force.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course, Henry, you're right. Right enough. These things are details.
- They're on my nerves, that's all. I'm going to tell you...” He sat up,
- slowly swung his feet to the floor, clasped his hands.... “I'll spare you
- my personal history of the past few years. And, of course, captious
- criticism of the church is no proper introduction to what I'm going to
- say. During these recent years I've been groping through my own
- Gethsemane. It has been a terrible time. There have been many moments when
- I've questioned the value of the struggle. If I had been as nearly alone
- as it has seemed, sometimes... I mean, if there hadn't been little Betty
- to think of...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I understand,” Withery murmured.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In a way I've come through my Valley. My head has cleared a little. And
- now I know only too clearly; it is very difficult; in a way, the time of
- doubt and groping was easier to bear... I know that I am in the wrong
- work.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery, with moist eyes, studied the carpet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are sure?” he managed to ask.
- </p>
- <p>
- He felt rather than saw his friend's slow nod.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's a relief, of course, to tell you.” Doane was speaking with less
- effort now; but his color had not returned. “There's no one else. I
- couldn't say it to Hidderleigh. To me that man is fundamentally
- dishonest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery found it difficult to face such extreme frankness. His mind
- slipped around it into another channel. He was beginning to feel that
- Grigg mustn't be let off so easily. There were arguments....
- </p>
- <p>
- “One thing that has troubled me, even lately,” he said, hunting for some
- common ground of thought and speech, “is the old denominational
- differences back home. I can't take all that for granted, as so many of
- our younger workers do. It has seemed to me that the conference last year
- should have spoken out more vigorously on that one point. We can never
- bring missionary work into any sort of unity here while the denominational
- spirit is kept alive at home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane broke out, with a touch of impatience: “We approach the shrewdest,
- most keenly analytical people or; earth, the Chinese, with something near
- a hundred and fifty conflicting varieties of the one true religion. Too
- often, Henry, we try to pass to them our faith but actually succeed only
- in exhibiting the curious prejudices of narrow white minds.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was, clearly, not a happy topic. Withery sighed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This—this attitude that you find yourself in—is really a
- conclusion, Grigg?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a conclusion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What are you going to do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would be a calamity if you were to give up your work here, in the
- midst of reconstruction.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No man is essential, Henry But of course, just now, it would lie
- difficult. I have thought, often, if Boatwright had only turned out a
- stronger man....”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Grigg, one thing! You must let me speak of it.... Has the possibility
- occurred to you of marrying again?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane sprang up at this; walked the floor,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you realize what you're saying, Henry!” he cried out.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I understand, Grigg, but you and I are old enough to know that in the
- case of a vigorous man like yourself—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane threw out a hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henry, I've thought of everything!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A little later he stopped and stood over his friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have fought battles that may as well be forgotten,” he said
- deliberately. “I have won them, over and over, to no end whatever. I have
- assumed that these victories would lead in time to a sort of peace, even
- to resignation. They have not. Each little victory now seems to leave me
- further back. I'm losing, not gaining, through the years. It was when I
- finally nerved myself to face that fact that I found myself facing it all—my
- whole life.... Henry, I'm full of a fire and energy that no longer finds
- an outlet in my work. I want to turn to new fields. If I don't, before
- it's too late, I may find myself on the rocks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery thought this over. Doane was still pacing the floor. Withery, pale
- himself now, looked up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps, then,” he said, “you had better break with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane stopped at the window; stared out. Withery thought his face was
- working.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you any means at all?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane moved his head in the negative.... “Oh, my books. A few personal
- things.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course”—Withery's voice softened—“you've given away a good
- deal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I've given everything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hum!... Have you thought of anything else you might do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane turned. “Henry, I'm forty-five years old. I have no profession, no
- business experience beyond the little administrative work here. Yet I must
- live, not only for myself, but to support my little girl. If I do quit,
- and try to find a place in the business world, I shall carry to my grave
- the stigma that clings always to the unfrocked priest.” He strode to the
- door. “I tell you, I've thought of everything!... We're getting nowhere
- with this. I appreciate your interest. But... I'm sorry, Henry. Sleep if
- you can. Good night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They met, with M. Pourmont and the others, at breakfast.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a moment, on the steps of the gate house, overlooking the narrow
- busy street, when they silently clasped hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Henry Withery crawled in under the blue curtains of his cart and rode
- away, carrying with him a mental picture of a huge man, stooping a little
- under the red lintel of the doorway, his strong face sternly set.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV—THE RIDDLE OF LIFE, AND OF DEATH
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>OANE stood on the
- Bund at Hankow, by the railing, his great frame towering above the
- passers-by. He had lunched with the consul general, an old acquaintance.
- He had arranged to stop overnight, with Betty, in a missionary compound.
- In the morning they would take the weekly Peking Express northward.
- </p>
- <p>
- The wide yellow Yangtse flowed by, between its steep mud cliffs, crowded
- with sampans—hundreds of them moored, rail to rail, against the
- opposite bank, a compact floating village that was cluttered and crowded
- with ragged river-folk and deck-houses of arched matting and that reared
- skyward a thick tangle of masts and rigging. The smaller boats and tubs of
- the water-beggars lay against the bank just beneath him, expectantly
- awaiting the Shanghai steamer. Out in the stream several stately junks lay
- at anchor; and near them a tiny river gunboat, her low free-board
- glistening white in the warm spring sunshine, a wisp of smoke trailing
- lazily from her funnel, the British ensign hanging ir folds astern.
- </p>
- <p>
- Down and up the water steps were moving continuously the innumerable water
- bearers whose business it was to supply the city of near a million yellow
- folk that lay just behind the commercial buildings and the pyramid-like
- godowns of the Bund.
- </p>
- <p>
- To Doane the picture, every detail of which had a place in the environment
- of his entire adult life, seemed unreal. The consul general, too, had been
- unreal. His talk, mostly of remembered if partly mellowed political
- grievances back home, of the great days when a certain “easy boss” was in
- power, and later of the mutterings of revolution up and down the Yangtse
- Valley, sounded in Doane's ears like quaint idle chatter of another
- planet.... His own talk, it seemed now, had been as unreal as the rest of
- it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of the compliment men of affairs usually paid him, despite his calling, in
- speaking out as man to man, Doane had never thought and did not think now.
- He was not self-conscious.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hours of sober thought that followed his talk with Henry Withery had
- deepened the furrow between his brows.
- </p>
- <p>
- In an odd way he was dating from that talk. It had been extraordinarily
- futile. It had to come, some sort of outbreak. For two or three years he
- had rather vaguely recognized this fact, and as vaguely dreaded it. Now it
- had happened. It was like a line drawn squarely across his life. He was
- different now; perhaps more honest, certainly franker with himself, but
- different... It had shaken him. Sleep left him for a night or two. Getting
- away for this trip to Hankow seemed a good thing. He had to be alone,
- walking it off, and thinking... thinking.... He walked the two hundred and
- ninety <i>li</i> to M. Pour-mont's compound, at Ping Yang, the railhead
- that spring of the new meter-guage line into Hans' Province in two days.
- The mule teams took three.
- </p>
- <p>
- He dwelt much with memories of his daughter. She had been a winning little
- thing. Until the terrible Boxer year, that ended, for him, in the death of
- his wife, she had brought continuous happiness into their life.
- </p>
- <p>
- She would be six years older now. He couldn't picture that. She had sent
- an occasional snapshot photograph; but these could not replace his vivid
- memories of the child she had been.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was tremulously eager to see her. There would be little problems of
- adjustment. Over and over he told himself that he mustn't be stern with
- her; he must watch that.
- </p>
- <p>
- He felt some uncertainty regarding her training. It was his hope that she
- would fit into the work of the mission. It seemed, indeed, necessary. She
- would be contributing eager young life. Her dutiful, rather perfunctory
- letters had made that much about her clear. They needed that.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the talk with Withery—it kept coming, up—he had heard
- his own voice saying—in curiously deliberate tones—astonishing
- things. He had sent his friend away in a state of deepest concern. He
- thought of writing him. A letter might catch him at Shanghai. There would
- be time in the morning, during the long early hours before this household
- down here would be awaking and gathering for breakfast. It would help, he
- felt impulsively, to explain fully... But what? What was it that was to be
- so easily explained? Could he erase, with a few strokes of a pen, the
- unhappy impression he had made that night on Henry's brain?
- </p>
- <p>
- The suggestion of marriage, with its implication of a rather cynical
- worldly wisdom, had come oddly from the devout Henry. Henry was older,
- too. But Doane winced at the mere recollection. He was almost excitedly
- sensitive on the topic. He had put women out of his mind, and was
- determined to keep them out. But at times thoughts of them slipped in.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the walk to Ping Yang, the second afternoon, he was swinging down a
- valley where the road was no more than the stony bed of an
- anciently-diverted stream. The caravan of a mandarin passed, bound
- doubtless from Peking to a far western province. That it was a great
- mandarin was indicated by his richly decorated sedan chair borne by
- sixteen footmen with squadrons of cavalry before and behind. Five mule
- litters followed, each with a brightly painted, young face pressed against
- the tiny square window, the wives or concubines of the great one. Each
- demurely studied him through slanting eyes. And the last one smiled;
- quickly, brightly. It was death to be caught at that, yet life was too
- strong for her. He walked feverishly after that. He had said one thing to
- Henry... something never before formulated, even in his own thinking. What
- was it? Oh, this!—“Henry, I'm full of a fire and energy that no
- longer find an outlet in my work. I want to turn to new fields. If I
- don't, before it's too late, I may find myself on the rocks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was something bitterly, if almost boyishly true in that statement.
- The vital, vigorous adult that was developing within him, now, in the
- forties, seemed almost unrelated to the young man he had been. He felt
- life, strength, power. In spirit he was younger than ever. All he had
- done, during more than twenty years, seemed but a practising for something
- real, a schooling. Now, standing there, a stern figure, on the Hankow
- Bund, he was aware of a developed, flowering instinct for the main
- currents of the mighty social stream, for rough, fresh contacts, large
- enterprises. His religion had been steadily widening out from the creed of
- his youth, gradually including all living things, all growth, far
- outspreading the set boundaries of churchly thought. This development of
- his spirit had immensely widened his spiritual influence among the Chinese
- of the province while at the same time making it increasingly different to
- talk frankly with fellow churchmen.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had come to find more of the bread of life in Emerson and Montaigne,
- Chaucer and Shakespeare; less in Milton and Peter. He could consider Burns
- now with a new pity, without moral condescension, with simple love. He
- could feel profoundly the moral triumph of Hester Prynne, while wondering
- at what seemed his own logic. He struggled against a weakening faith in
- the authenticity of divine revelation, as against a deepening perception
- that the Confucian precepts might well be a healthy and even sufficient
- outgrowth of fundamental Chinese characteristics.
- </p>
- <p>
- He thought, at times rather grimly, of the trials for heresy that now and
- then rocked the church; and wondered, as grimly, how soon the heresy
- hunters would be getting around to him. The smallest incident might,
- sooner or later would, set them after him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henry Withery was certain, in spite of his personal loyalty, out of his
- very concern, to drop a word. And there was literally no word he could
- drop, after their talk, but would indicate potential heresy in his friend,
- James Griggsby Doane.
- </p>
- <p>
- Or it might come from within the compound. Or from a passing stranger. Or
- from remarks of his own at the annual conference. Or from letters.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were moments when he could have invited exposure as a relief from
- doubt and torment of soul. There was nothing of the hypocrite in him. But
- in soberer moments he felt certain that it was letter to wait until he
- could find, if not divine guidance, at least an intelligent earthly plan.
- </p>
- <p>
- All he could do, as it stood, was to work harder and harder with body and
- mind. And to shoulder more and more responsibility. Without that he would
- be like a wild engine, charging to destruction.
- </p>
- <p>
- His daughter would be, for a time certainly, one more burden. He was glad.
- Anything that would bring life real again! Work above all; every waking
- moment, if possible, filled; his mental and physical powers taxed to their
- uttermost; that was the thing; crowd out the brooding, the mere feeling.
- Action, all the time, and hard, objective thought. The difficulty was that
- his powers were so great; he seemed never to tire any more; his thoughts
- could dwell on many planes at once; he actually needed but a few hours'
- sleep.... And so Betty would be a young woman now, mysteriously as old as
- her mother on her wedding day: a young woman of unknown interests and
- sympathies, of a world he himself had all but ceased to know. And it came
- upon him suddenly, then with tremendous emotional force, that he had no
- heritage to leave her but a good name.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood gripping the railing, head back, gazing up out of misty eyes at a
- white-flecked blue sky. A prayer arose from his heart and, a whisper,
- passed his lips: “O God, show me Thy truth, that it may set me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In the intensity of his brooding he had forgotten to watch for the
- steamer. But now he became aware of a stir of life along the river-front.
- The beggars were paddling out into the stream, making ready their little
- baskets at the ends of bamboo poles.
- </p>
- <p>
- Over the cliffs, down-stream, hung a long film of smoke. The steamer had
- rounded the bend and was plowing rapidly up toward the twin cities. He
- could make out the two white stripes on the funnel, and the cluster of
- ventilators about it, and the new canvas across the front of the bridge. A
- moment later he could see the tiny figures crowding the rail.
- </p>
- <p>
- The steamer warped in alongside a new wharf.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane stood near the gangway, all emotion, nearly out of control.
- </p>
- <p>
- From below hundreds of coolies, countrymen and ragged soldiers swarmed up,
- to be herded off at one side of the wharf. The local coolies went aboard
- and promptly started unloading freight, handling crates and bales of half
- a ton weight with the quick, half grunted, half sung chanteys, intricately
- rhythmical, with which all heavy labor is accompanied in the Yangtse
- Valley.
- </p>
- <p>
- Two spectacled Chinese merchants in shimmering silk robes came down the
- gangway. A tall American, in civilian dress and overcoat but carrying a
- leather sword case, followed. Two missionaries came, one in Chinese dress
- with a cue attached to his skull-cap, bowing to the stern giant as they
- passed. Then a French father in black robe and shovel hat; a group of
- Englishmen; a number of families, American, British, French; and finally,
- coming along the shaded deck, the familiar kindly face and silvery heard
- of Doctor Hasmer—he was distinctly growing older, Hasmer—then
- his wife, and, emerging from the cabin, a slim little figure, rather
- smartly dressed, extraordinarily pretty, radiating a quick charm as she
- hurried to the gangway, there pausing a moment to search the wharf.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her eyes met his. She smiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Betty. He felt her charm, but his heart was sinking.
- </p>
- <p>
- She kissed him. She seemed all enthusiasm, even very happy. But a moment
- later, walking along the wharf toward the Bund, her soft little face was
- sad. He wondered, as his thoughts whirled around, about that.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her clothes, her beauty, her bright manner, indicating a girlish eagerness
- to be admired, wouldn't do at the mission. And she couldn't wear those
- trim little shoes with heels half an inch higher than a man's.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had, definitely, the gift and the thought of adorning herself. She was
- a good girl; there was stuff in her. But it wouldn't do; not out there in
- T'ainan. And she looked like anything in the world but a teacher.
- </p>
- <p>
- She fascinated him. She was the lovely creature his own little girl had
- become. Walking beside her up the Bund, chatting with the Hasmers, making
- a fair show of calm, his heart swelled with love and pride. She was
- delicate, shyly adorable, gently feminine.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was going to be difficult to speak about her costume and her charming
- ways. It wouldn't do to crush her. She was quick enough; very likely she
- would pick up the tone of the compound very quickly and adapt herself to
- it.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>oung Li Hsien, of
- T'ainan had come up on the boat. Doans talked a moment with him on the
- wharf. He was taking the Peking Express in the morning, traveling
- first-class. The boy's father was a wealthy banker and had always been
- generous with his firstborn son.
- </p>
- <p>
- Li appeared in the dining-car at noon, calmly smiling, and, at Doane's
- imitation, sat with him and Betty. He carried a copy of <i>Thus Spake
- Zarathustra</i>, in English, with a large number of protruding paper
- bookmarks.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane glanced in some surprise at the volume lying rather ostentatiously
- on the table, and then at the pigtailed young man who ate foreign food
- with an eagerness and a relish that indicated an excited interest in novel
- experiment not commonly found among his race.
- </p>
- <p>
- They talked in Chinese. Li had much to say of the Japanese. He admired
- them for adopting and adapting to their own purposes the material
- achievements of the Western world. He had evidently heard something of
- Theodore Roosevelt and rather less of Lloyd George and Karl Marx. Doane
- was of the opinion, later, that during the tiffin hour the lad had told
- all he had learned in six months at Tokio. When asked why he was not
- finishing out his college year he smiled enigmatically and spoke of duties
- at home. He knew, of course, that Doane would instantly dismiss the reason
- as meaningless; it was his Chinese way of suggesting that he preferred not
- to answer the question.
- </p>
- <p>
- Twenty-four hours later they transferred their luggage to the Hansi Line,
- and headed westward into the red hills; passing, within an hour, through
- the southern extension of the Great Wall, now a ruin. The night was passed
- in M. Pourmont's compound at Ping Yang. After this there were two other
- nights in ancient, unpleasant village inns.
- </p>
- <p>
- Duane made every effort to lessen the discomforts of the journey.
- Outwardly kind, inwardly emotions fought with one another. He felt now
- that he should never have sent for Betty; never in the world She seemed to
- have had no practical training. She grew quiet and wistful as the journey
- proceeded. The little outbreaks of enthusiasm over this or that
- half-remembered glimpse of native life came less frequently from day to
- day.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were a number of young men at Ping Yang; one French engineer who
- spoke excellent English; an Australian; others, and two or three young
- matrons who had adventurously accompanied their husbands into the
- interior. They all called in the evening. The hospitable Pourmont took up
- rugs and turned on the talking-machine, and the young people danced.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane sat apart, watched the gracefully gliding couples; tried to smile.
- The dance was on, Betty in the thick of it, before he realized what was
- meant. He couldn't have spoken without others hearing. It was plain enough
- that she entered into it without a thought; though as the evening wore on
- he thought she glanced at him, now and then, rather thoughtfully. And he
- found himself, at these moments, smiling with greater determination and
- nodding at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- The incident plunged him, curiously, swiftly, into the heart of his own
- dilemma. He rested an elbow on a table and shaded his eyes, trying, as he
- had been trying all these years, to think.
- </p>
- <p>
- What a joyous little thing she was! What a fairy! And dancing seemed, now,
- a means of expression for her youth and her gift of charm. And there was
- an exquisite delight, he found, in watching her skill with the young men.
- She was gay, quick, tactful. Clearly young men had, before this, admired
- her. He wondered what sort of men.
- </p>
- <p>
- She interrupted this brooding with one of those slightly perturbed
- glances. Quickly he lowered his hand in order that she might see him
- smile; but she had whirled away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Joy!... Not before this moment, not in all the years of puzzled, sometimes
- bitter thinking, had he realized the degree in which mission life—for
- that matter, the very religion of his denominational variety—shut
- joy out. They were afraid of it. They fought it. In their hearts they
- associated it with vice It was of this world; their eyes were turned
- wholly to another.
- </p>
- <p>
- His teeth grated together. The muscles of his strong jaws moved; bunched
- on his cheeks. He knew now that he believed in joy as an expression of
- life.
- </p>
- <p>
- Had he known where to turn for the money he would gladly have planned, at
- this moment, to send Betty back to the States, give her more of an
- education, even arrange for her to study drawing and painting. For on the
- train, during their silences, she had sketched the French conductor, the
- French-speaking Chinese porter, the sleepy, gray-brown, walled villages,
- the wide, desert-like flats of the Hoang-Ho, the tumbling hills. He was
- struck by her persistence at it; the girlish energy she put into it.
- </p>
- <p>
- That night, late, long after the music had stopped and the last guests had
- left for their dwellings about the large compound, she came across the
- corridor and tapped at his door. She wore a kimono of Japan; her abundant
- brown hair rippled about her shoulders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just one more good night, Daddy,” she murmured.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then, turning away, she added this, softly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never thought about the dancing until—well, we'd started...”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood a long moment in silence, then said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm glad you had a pleasant evening, dear. We—we're rather quiet at
- T'ainan.”
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>ao Ting Chuan was
- a man of great shrewdness and considerable distinction of appearance,
- skilled in ceremonial intercourse, a master of the intricate courses a
- prominent official must steer between beautifully phrased moral and
- ethical maxims on the one hand and complicated political trickery on the
- other. But, as Doane had said, he knew the cost of indemnities. It was on
- his shrewdness, his really great intelligence, and on his firm control of
- the “gentry and people” of the province that Doane relied to prevent any
- such frightful slaughter of whites and destruction of their property as
- had occurred in 1900. Pao, unlike most of the higher mandarins, was
- Chinese, not Manchu.
- </p>
- <p>
- The tao-tai of the city of T'ainan-fu, Chang Chih Ting, was an older man
- than Pao, less vigorous of body and mind, simpler and franker. He was of
- those who bewail the backwardness of China.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the tao-tai's yamen, on the first day of the great April fair, set
- forth His Excellency in full panoply of state—a green official chair
- with many bearers, an escort of twenty footmen, with runners on ahead.
- </p>
- <p>
- Behind this caravan, hidden from view in the depths of a blue Peking cart,
- with the conventional extra servant dangling his heels over the foreboard,
- rode Griggsby Doane.
- </p>
- <p>
- The principal feature of the opening day was a theatrical performance. The
- play, naturally, was an historical satire, shouted and occasionally sung
- by the heavily-costumed actors, to a continuous accompaniment of wailing
- strings. The stage was a platform in the open air, under a tree hung with
- bannerets inscribed to the particular spirit supposed to dwell within its
- encircling bark.
- </p>
- <p>
- His Excellency stood, with Doane, on a knoll, looking out over the heads
- of the vast audience toward the stage. Doane estimated the attendance at
- near ten thousand.
- </p>
- <p>
- The play, begun in the early morning, was now well advanced. At its
- conclusion, the audience was beginning to break up when a slim blue-clad
- figure mounted the platform and began a hurried speech.
- </p>
- <p>
- Chang and Doane looked at each other; then as one man moved forward down
- the knoll with the throng. The tao-tai's attendants followed, in scattered
- formation.
- </p>
- <p>
- The speaker was Li Hsien.
- </p>
- <p>
- Slowly the magistrate and the missionary made their way toward the stage.
- </p>
- <p>
- At first the crowd, at sight of the magistrate's button and embroidered
- insignia, made way as well as they could. But as the impassioned phrases
- of Li Hsien sank into their minds resistance developed. From here and
- there in the crowd came phrases expressing a vile contempt for foreigners
- such as Doane had not heard for years.
- </p>
- <p>
- Li was lashing himself up, crying out more and more vigorously against the
- Ho Shan Company, the barbarous white governments from which it derived
- force, foreign pigs everywhere. The crowds closed, solidly, before the two
- advancing men.
- </p>
- <p>
- The magistrate waved his arms; shouted a command that Li leave the
- platform. Li, hearing only a voice of opposition in the crowd, poured out
- voluble scorn on his head. The crowd jostled Duane. A stick struck his
- cheek. He whirled and caught the stick, but the wielder of it escaped in
- the crowd.
- </p>
- <p>
- Chang tried to reason, then, with the few hundred within ear-shot.
- </p>
- <p>
- The sense of violence seemed to be increasing. A few of the magistrate's
- escort were struggling through. These formed a circle about him and Doane.
- </p>
- <p>
- Li shouted out charge after charge against the company. He begged his
- hearers to be brave, as he was brave; to destroy all the works of the
- company with dynamite; to wreck all the grounds of the foreign engineer at
- Ping Yang and kill all the occupants; to kill foreigners everywhere and
- assert the ancient integrity and superiority of China. “Be brave!” he
- cried again. “See, I am brave. I die for Hansi. Can not you, too, die for
- Hansi? Can not you think of me, of how I died for our cause, and yourself,
- in memory of my act, fight for your beloved country, that it may again be
- the proud queen of the earth?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He drew a revolver from his sleeve; shot twice; fell to the stage in a
- widening pool of blood.
- </p>
- <p>
- At once the vast crowd went wild. Those near the white man turned on him
- as if to kill him. His clothes were torn, his head cut. Man after man he
- knocked down with his powerful fists. Before many moments he was exulting
- in the struggle, in his strength and the full use of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The magistrate, struggled beside him. For the people. In their frenzy,
- forgot or ignored his rank and overwhelmed him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The runners fought as well as they could. Two or three of them fell. Then
- a body of horsemen came charging into the crowd, soldiers from the judge's
- yamen, all on shaggy little Manchu ponies, swinging clubbed carbines as
- they rode. Right and left, men and boys fell. The crowd broke and
- scattered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Chang, bleeding from several small wounds, his exquisitely embroidered
- silken garments torn nearly off his body, made his way back to the green
- chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane was escorted by soldiers to the mission compound. He slipped in to
- wash off the blood and change his clothes without being seen by Betty or
- any of the whites.
- </p>
- <p>
- Shortly came two runners of His Excellency, Pao Ting Chuan, bearing trays
- of gifts. And a Chinese note expressing deepest regret and pledging
- complete protection in the future.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane dismissed the runners with a Mexican dollar each, and thoughtfully
- considered the situation. Pao was strong, very strong. Yet the
- self-destruction of Li Hsien would act as a flaming signal to the people
- It was the one appeal that might rouse them beyond control.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V—IN T'AINAN
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Boatwrights
- were at this time in the thirties; he perhaps thirty-six or seven, she
- thirty-three or four. As has already been noted through the observing eyes
- of Mr. Withery, Elmer Boatwright had lost the fresh enthusiasm of his
- first years in the province. And he had by no means attained the mellow
- wisdom that seldom so much as begins to appear in a man before forty. His
- was a daily routine of innumerable petty tasks and responsibilities. He
- had come to be a washed-out little man, whose unceasing activity was
- somehow unconvincing. He had stopped having opinions, even views. He
- taught, he kept accounts and records, he conducted meetings, he prayed and
- sometimes preached at meetings of the students and the native Christians,
- he was kind in a routine way, his rather patient smile was liked about the
- compound, but the gift of personality was not his. Even his religion
- seemed at times to have settled into routine....
- </p>
- <p>
- He was small in stature, not plump, with light thin hair and a light thin
- mustache.
- </p>
- <p>
- His wife was taller than he, more vigorous, more positive, with something
- of an executive gift. The domestic management of the compound was her
- province, with teaching in spare hours. Her husband, with fewer petty
- activities to absorb his energy until his life settled into a mold, might
- have exhibited some of the interesting emotional quality that is rather
- loosely called temperament; for that matter it was still a possibility
- during the soul-shaking changes of middle life; certainly his odd, early
- taste for taxidermy had carried him to the borders of a sort of artistry;
- but her own gift was distinctly that of activity. She seemed a wholly
- objective person. She was physically strong, inclined to sternness, or at
- least to rigidity of view, yet was by no means unkind. The servants
- respected her. She was troubled by no doubts. Her religious faith, like
- her housekeeping practise, was a settled thing. Apparently her thinking
- was all of the literal things about her. Of humor she had never shown a
- trace. Without the strong proselyting impetus that had directed and
- colored her life she might have become a rather hard, sharp-tongued
- village housewife. But at whatever cost to herself she had brought her
- tongue under control. As a result, having no mental lightness or grace,
- she talked hardly at all. When she disapproved, which was not seldom, she
- became silent.
- </p>
- <p>
- The relation between this couple and Griggsby Doane had grown subtly
- complicated through the years that followed the death of Mrs. Doane.
- Doane, up in his simply furnished attic room, living wholly alone, never
- interfered in the slightest detail of Mrs. Boatwright's management. Like
- her, when he disapproved, he kept still. But he might as well have spoken
- out, for she knew, nearly always, what he was thinking. The deepest
- blunder she made during this period was to believe, as she firmly did,
- that she knew all, instead of nearly all his thoughts. The side of him
- that she was incapable of understanding, the intensely, warmly human side,
- appeared to her merely as a curiously inexplicable strain of weakness in
- him that might, some day, crop out and make trouble. She felt a strain of
- something disastrous in his nature. She regarded his growing passion for
- solitude as a form of self-indulgence. She knew that he was given more and
- more to brooding; and brooding—all independent thought, in fact—alarmed
- her. Her own deepest faith was in what she thought of as submission to
- divine will and in self-suppression. But she respected him profoundly. And
- he respected her. Each knew something of the strength in the other's
- nature. And so they lived on from day to day and year to year in a
- practised avoidance of conflict or controversy. And between them her busy
- little husband acted as a buffer without ever becoming aware that a buffer
- was necessary in this quiet, well-ordered, industrious compound.
- </p>
- <p>
- Regarding the change of tone for the more severe and the worse that had
- impressed and disturbed Withery, none of the three but Duane had
- formulated a conscious thought. Probably the less kindly air was really
- more congenial to Mrs. Boatwright. Her husband was not a man ever to
- survey himself and his environment with detachment. And both were much
- older and more severe at this time than they were to be at fifty.
- </p>
- <p>
- The introduction of Betty Doane into this delicately balanced household
- precipitated a crisis. Breakfast was served in the mission house at a
- quarter to eight. Not once in a month was it five minutes late. A delay of
- half an hour would have thrown Mrs. Boatwright out of her stride for the
- day.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the first few days after her arrival Betty appeared on time. It was
- clearly necessary. Mrs. Boatwright was hostile. Her father was busy and
- preoccupied. She herself was moved deeply by a girlish determination to
- find some small niche for herself in this driving little community. The
- place was strange to her. There seemed little or no companionship. Even
- Miss Hemphill, the head teacher, whom she remembered from her girlhood,
- and Dr. Mary Cassin, who was in charge of the dispensary and who had a
- pleasant, almost pretty face, seemed as preoccupied as Griggsby Doane.
- During her mother's lifetime there had been an air of friendliness, of
- kindness, about the compound that was gone now. Perhaps less work had been
- accomplished then than now under the firm rule of Mrs. Boatwright, but it
- had been a happier little community.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the moment she rode in through the great oak, nail-studded gates of
- the compound, and the mules lurched to their knees, and her father helped
- her out through the little side door of the red and blue litter, Betty
- knew that she was exciting disapproval. The way they looked at her neat
- traveling suit, her becoming turban, her shoes, worked sharply on her
- sensitive young nerves. She was aware even of the prim way they walked,
- these women—of their extremely modest self-control—and of the
- puzzling contrast set up with the free activity of her own slim body;
- developed by dancing and basketball and healthy romping into a grace that
- had hitherto been unconscious.
- </p>
- <p>
- And almost from that first moment, herself hardly aware of what she was
- about but feeling that she must be wrong, struggling bravely against an
- increasing hurt, her unrooted, nervously responsive young nature struggled
- to adapt itself to the new environment. A pucker appeared between her
- brows; her voice became hushed and faintly, shyly earnest in tone. Mrs.
- Boatwright at once gave her some classes of young girls. Betty went to
- Miss Hemphill for detailed advice, and earnestly that first evening read
- into a work on pedagogics that the older teacher, after a kindly enough
- talk, lent her.
- </p>
- <p>
- She went up to her father's study, just before bedtime on the first
- evening, in a spirit of determined good humor. She wanted him to see how
- well she was taking hold.... But she came down in a state of depression
- that kept her awake for a long time lying in her narrow iron bed, gazing
- out into the starlit Chinese heavens. She felt his grave kindness, but
- found that she didn't know him. Here in the compound, with all his burden
- of responsibility settled on his broad shoulders, he had receded from her.
- He would sit and look at her, with sadness in his eyes, not catching all
- she said; then would start a little, and smile, and take her hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- She found that she couldn't unpack all her things; not for days. There
- were snapshots of boy and girl members of “the crowd,” away off there,
- beyond the brown hills, beyond the ruined wall, beyond the yellow plains,
- and the Pacific Ocean and the wide United States, off in a little New
- Jersey town, on the other side of the world. There were parcels of dance
- programs, with little white pencils dangling from silken white cords.
- There were programs of plays, with cryptic pencilings, and copies of a
- high-school paper, and packets of letters. She couldn't trust herself to
- look at these treasures. And she put her drawing things away.
- </p>
- <p>
- And other more serious difficulties arose to provoke sober thoughts. One
- occurred the first time she played tennis with her father; the day before
- Li Hsien's suicide. The court had been laid out on open ground adjoining
- the compound. Small school buildings and a wall shut it off from the front
- street, and a Chinese house-wall blocked the other end; but the farther
- side lay open to a narrow footway. Here a number of Chinese youths
- gathered and watched the play. It happened that none of the white women
- attached to the mission at this time was a tennis player; and the
- spectacle of a radiant girl darting about with grace and zest and
- considerable athletic skill was plainly an experience to the onlookers. At
- first they were respectful enough; but as their numbers grew voices were
- raised, first in laughter, then in unpleasant comment. Finally all the
- voices seemed to burst out at once in chorus of ribaldry and invective.
- Betty stopped short in her play, alarmed and confused.
- </p>
- <p>
- These shouted remarks grew in insolence. All through her girlhood Betty
- had grown accustomed to occasional small outbreaks from the riff-raff of
- T'ainan. She recalled that her father had always chosen to ignore them.
- But there was a new boldness evident in the present group, as the numbers
- increased and more and more voices joined in. And it was evident, from an
- embroidered robe here and there, that not all were riff-raff.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her father lowered his racket and walked to the net.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm sorry, dear,” he said; “but this won't do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Obediently she returned to the mission house; while Doane went over to the
- fence. But before he could reach it the youths, jeering, hurried away.
- That evening he told Betty he would have a wall built along the footway.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ithin less than a
- week Betty found herself fighting off a heart-sickness that was to prove,
- for the time, irresistible. On the sixth evening, after the house had
- became still and her big, kind father had said good night—in some
- ways, at moments, he seemed almost close to her; at other moments,
- especially now, at night, in the solitude, he was hopelessly far away, a
- dim figure on the farther shore of the gulf that lies, bottomless, between
- every two human souls—she locked herself in her little room and sat,
- very still, with drooping face and wet eyes, by the open window.
- </p>
- <p>
- The big Oriental city was silent, asleep, except for the distant sound of
- a watchman banging his gong and shouting musically on his rounds. The
- spring air, soft, moistly warm, brought to her nostrils the smell of
- China; and brought with it, queerly disjointed, hauntlike memories of her
- childhood in the earlier mission house that had stood on this same bit of
- ground. She closed her eyes, and saw her mother walking in quiet dignity
- about the compound, the same compound in which Luella Brenty, a girl of
- hardly more than her-own present age, was, in 1900, burned at the stake.
- Down there where the ghostly tablet stood, by the chapel steps.
- </p>
- <p>
- She shivered. There was trouble now. They were talking about it among
- themselves, if not in her presence. That would doubtless explain her
- father's preoccupation.... She must hurry to bed. She knew she was tired;
- and it wouldn't do to be late for breakfast. And she had a class in
- English at 8:45.
- </p>
- <p>
- But instead she got out the bottom tray of her trunk and mournfully
- staring long at each, went through her photographs. She had been a nice
- girl, there in the comfortable American town. Here she seemed less nice.
- As if, in some way, over there in the States, her nature had changed for
- the worse. They looked at her so. They were not friendly. No, not that.
- Yet this was home, her only home. The other had seemed to be home, but it
- was now a dream... gone. She could never again pick up her place in the
- old crowd. It would be changing. That, she thought, in the brooding
- reverie known to every imaginative, sensitive boy and girl, was the sad
- thing about life. It slipped away from you; you could nowhere put your
- feet down solidly. If, another year, she could return, the crowd would be
- changed. New friendships would be formed. The boys who had been fond of
- her would now be fond of others. Some of the girls might be married... She
- herself was changed. A man—an older man, who had been married, was,
- in a way, married at the time—-had taken her in his arms and kissed
- her. It w'as a shock. It hurt now. She couldn't think how it had happened,
- how it had ever begun. She couldn't even visualize the man, now, with her
- eyes closed. She couldn't be sure even that she liked him. He was a
- strange being. He had interested her by startling her. Romance had seized
- them. He said that. He said it would be different at Shanghai. It was
- different; very puzzling, saddening. There was no doubt as to what Mrs.
- Boatwright would say about it, if she knew. Or Miss Hemphill. Any of
- them.... She wondered what her father would say. She couldn't tel! him. It
- had to be secret. There were things in life that had to be; but she
- wondered what he would say.
- </p>
- <p>
- But she was, with herself, here in her solitude, honest about it. It had
- happened. She didn't blame the man. In his strange way, he was real. He
- had meant it. She had read his letter over and over, on the steamer, and
- here in T'ainan. It was moving, exciting to her that odd letter. And he
- had gone without a further word because he felt it to be the best way. She
- was sure of that.... She didn't blame herself, though it hurt. No, she
- couldn't blame him. Yet it was now, as it had been at the time, a sort of
- blinding, almost an unnerving shock.... Probably they would never meet
- again. It was a large world, after all; you couldn't go back and pick up
- dropped threads. But if they should meet, by some queer chance, what would
- they do, what could they say? For he lingered vividly with her; his rough
- blunt phrases came up, at lonely moments, in her mind. He had stirred and,
- queerly, bewilderingly, humbled her.... She wondered, all nerves, what his
- wife was like. How she looked.
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps it was this change in her that these severe women noticed. Perhaps
- her inner life lay open to their experienced eyes. She could do nothing
- about it, just set her teeth and live through somehow.... Though it
- couldn't be wholly that, because she had worn the clothes they didn't like
- before it happened, and had danced, and played like a child. And they
- didn't seem to care much for her drawing; though Miss Hemphill had, she
- knew, suggested to Mr. Boatwright that he let her try teaching a small
- class of the Chinese girls.... No, it wasn't that. It must, then, be
- something in her nature.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had read, back home—or in the States—in a woman's
- magazine, that every woman has two men in her life, the one she loves, or
- who has stirred her, and the one she marries. The girls, in some
- excitement, had discussed it. There had been confidences.
- </p>
- <p>
- She might marry. It was possible. And even now she saw clearly enough, as
- every girl sees when life presses, that marriage might, at any moment,
- present itself as a way out. The thought was not stimulating. The pictures
- it raised lacked the glowing color of her younger and more romantic
- dreams.... That mining engineer was writing her, from Korea. His name was
- Apgar, Harold B. Apgar; he was stocky, strong, with an attractive square
- face and quiet gray eyes. She liked him. But his letters were going to be
- hard to answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- The soft air that fanned her softer cheek brought utter melancholy. She
- felt, as only the young can feel, that her life, with her merry youth, was
- over. Grim doors had closed on it. Joy lay behind those doors. Ahead lay
- duties, discipline, the somber routine of womanhood.
- </p>
- <p>
- She shivered and stirred. This brooding wouldn't do.
- </p>
- <p>
- She got out a pad of paper and a pencil, and sitting there in the dim
- light, sketched with deft fingers the roofs and trees of T'ainan, as they
- appeared in the moonlight of spring, with a great faint gate tower bulking
- high above a battlemented wall. Until far into the morning she drew,
- forgetful of the hours, finding a degree of melancholy pleasure in the
- exercise of the expressive faculty that had become second nature to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- She slept, then, like a child, until mid-forenoon. It was nearly eleven
- o'clock when she hurried, ready to smile quickly to cover her confusion,
- down to the dining-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The breakfast things had been cleared away more than two hours earlier.
- The table boy (so said the cook) had gone to market. She ate, rather
- shamefaced, a little bread and butter (she was finding it difficult to get
- used to this tinned butter from New Zealand).
- </p>
- <p>
- In the parlor Mrs. Boatwright sat at her desk. She heard Betty at the
- door, lifted her head for a cool bow, then resumed her work. Not a word
- did she speak or invite. There was an apology trembling on the tip of
- Betty's tongue, but she had to hold it back and turn away.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he day after the
- suicide of Li Hsien rumors began to drift into the compound. News travels
- swiftly in China. The table “boy” (a man of fifty-odd) brought interesting
- bits from the market, always a center for gossip of the city and the
- mid-provincial region about it. The old gate-keeper, Sun Shao-i, picked up
- much of the roadside talk. And the several other men helpers about the
- compound each contributed his bit. The act of the fanatical student had,
- at the start, as Doane anticipated, an electrical effect on public
- sentiment. Suicide is by no means generally regarded in China as a sign of
- failure. It is employed, at times of great stress, as a form of deliberate
- protest; and is then taken as heroism.
- </p>
- <p>
- So reports came that the always existent hatred of foreigners was rising,
- and might get out of control. A French priest was murdered on the Kalgan
- highway, after protracted torture during which his eyes and tongue were
- fed to village dogs. This, doubtless, as retaliation for similar practises
- commonly attributed to the white missionaries. The fact that the local
- Shen magistrate promptly caught and beheaded a few of the ringleaders
- appeared to have small deterrent effect on public feeling.
- </p>
- <p>
- Detachments of strange-appearing soldiers, wearing curious insignia, were
- marching into the province over the Western Mountains. A native worker at
- one of the mission outposts wrote that they broke into his compound and
- robbed him of food, but made little further trouble.
- </p>
- <p>
- Reports bearing on the activities of the new Great Eye Society—already
- known along the wayside as “The Lookers”—were coming in daily. The
- Lookers were initiating many young men into their strange magic, which
- appeared to differ from the incantations of the Boxers of 1900 more in
- detail than in spirit.
- </p>
- <p>
- And in the western, villages this element was welcoming the new soldiers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here in T'ainan disorder was increasing. An old native, helper of Dr.
- Cassin in the dispensary, was mobbed on the street and given a beating
- during which his arm was broken. He managed to walk to the compound, and
- was now about with the arm in a sling, working quietly as usual. But it
- was evident that native Christians must, as usual in times of trouble,
- suffer for their faith.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the following afternoon the tao-tai called, in state, with bearers,
- runners, soldiers and secretaries. The main courtyard of the compound was
- filled with the richly colored chairs and the silks and satins and plumed
- ceremonial hats of his entourage. For more than an hour he was closeted
- with Griggsby Doane, while the Chinese schoolgirls, very demure, stole
- glances from curtained windows at the beautiful young men in the
- courtyard.
- </p>
- <p>
- By this impressive visit, and by his long stay, Chang Chih Ting clearly
- meant to impress on the whole city his friendship for these foreign
- devils. For the whole city would know of it within an hour; all middle
- Hansi would know by nightfall.
- </p>
- <p>
- He brought disturbing news. It had been obvious to Doane that the menacing
- new society could hardly spread and thrive without some sort of secret
- official backing. He was inclined to trust Chang. He believed, after days
- of balancing the subtle pros and cons in his mind, that Pao Ting Chuan
- would keep order. And he knew that the official who was responsible for
- the province—as Pao virtually was—could keep order if he
- chose.
- </p>
- <p>
- Chang, always naively open with Doane, supported him in this view. But it
- was strongly rumored at the tao-tai's yamen that the treasurer, Kang Hsu,
- old as he was, weakened by opium, for the past two or three years an
- inconsiderable figure in the province, had lately been in correspondence
- with the Western soldiers. And officers from his yamen had been recognized
- as among the drill masters of the Looker bands. Chang had reported these
- proceedings to His Excellency, he said (“His Excellency,” during this
- period, meant always Pao, though Kang Hsu, as treasurer, ranked him) and
- had been graciously thanked. It was also said that Kang had cured himself
- of opium smoking by locking himself in a room and throwing pipe, rods,
- lamp and all his supply of the drug out of a window. For two weeks he had
- suffered painfully, and had nearly died of a diarrhea; but now had
- recovered and was even gaining in weight, though still a skeleton.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane caught himself shaking his head, with Chang, over this remarkable
- self-cure. It would apparently be better for the whites were Kang to
- resume his evil ways. It was clear to these deeply experienced men that
- Kang's motives would be mixed. Doubtless he had been stirred to jealousy
- by Pao. It seemed unlikely that he, or any prominent mandarin, could
- afford to run the great risks involved in setting the province afire so
- soon after 1900. Perhaps he knew a way to lay the fresh troubles at Pao's
- gate. Or perhaps he had come to believe, with his befuddled old brain, in
- the Looker incantations. Only seven years earlier the belief of ruling
- Manchus in Boxer magic had led to the siege of the legations and something
- near the ruin of China. Come to think of it, Kang, unlike Pao and Chang,
- was a Manchu.
- </p>
- <p>
- Chang also brought with him a copy of the Memorial left by Li Hsien, which
- it appeared was being widely circulated in the province. The document gave
- an interesting picture of the young man's complicated mind. His death had
- been theatrical and, in manner, Western, modern. Suicides of protest were
- traditionally managed in private. But the memorial was utterly Chinese,
- written with all the customary indirection, dwelling on his devotion to
- his parents and his native land, as on his own worthlessness; quoting apt
- phrases from Confucius, Mencius and Tseng Tzu; quite, indeed, in the best
- traditional manner. And he left a letter to his elder brother, couched in
- language humble and tender, giving exact directions for his funeral, down
- to the arrangement of his clothing and the precise amount to be paid to
- the Taoist priest, together with instructions as to the disposition of his
- small personal estate. Doane pointed out that these documents were
- designed to impress on the gentry his loyal conformity to ancient
- tradition, while his motives were revolutionary and his final act was
- designed to excite the mob at the fair and folk of their class throughout
- the province. Chang believed he had scholarly help in preparing the
- documents. And both men felt it of sober significance that the memorial
- was addressed to “His Excellency, Kang Hsu, Provincial Treasurer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- That Li Hsien's inflammatory denunciation of “the foreign engineer at Ping
- Yang” had an almost immediate effect was indicated by the news from that
- village at the railhead. M. Puurmont wrote, in French, that an Australian
- stake-boy had been shot through the lungs while helping an instrument man
- in the hills. He was alive, but barely so, at the time of writing. As a
- result of this and certain lesser difficulties, M. Pourmont was calling in
- his engineers and mine employees, and putting them to work improvising a
- fort about his compound, and had telegraphed Peking for a large shipment
- of tinned food. He added that there would be plenty of room in case Doane
- later should decide to gather in his outpost workers and fall back toward
- the railroad.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane translated this letter into Chinese for Chang's benefit.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has he firearms?” asked the tao-tai.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane inclined his head. “More than the treaty permits,” he replied. “He
- told me last winter that he thought it necessary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is as well,” said Chang. “Though it is not necessary for you to leave
- yet. To do that would be to invite misunderstanding.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would invite attack,” said Doane.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was on the morning after Chang's call that the telegram came from Jen
- Ling Pu. Doane was crossing the courtyard when he heard voices in the gate
- house; then Sun Shao-i came down the steps and gave him the message. He at
- once sent a chit to Pao, writing it in pencil against a wall; then ordered
- a cart brought around. Within an hour the boy was back. Pao had written on
- the margin of the note: “Will see you immediately.”
- </p>
- <p>
- For once the great mandarin did not keep him waiting. The two inner gates
- of the yamen opened for him one after the other, and his cart was driven
- across the tiled inner court to the yamen porch. It was an unheard-of
- honor. Plainly, Pao, like the lesser Chang, purposed standing by his guns,
- and meant that the city should know. By way of emphasis, Pao himself,
- tall, stately, magnificent in his richly embroidered robe, the peacock
- emblem of a civil mandarin of the third-class embroidered on the breast,
- the girdle clasp of worked gold, wearing the round hat of office crowned
- with a large round ruby—Pao, deep and musical of voice, met him in
- the shadowy porch and conducted him to the reception room. Instantly the
- tea appeared, and they could talk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your Excellency,” said Doane, “a Christian worker in So T'ung, one Jen
- Ling Pu, telegraphs me that strange soldiers, helped by members of the
- Great Eye Society, last night attacked his compound. They have burned the
- gate house, but have no firearms. At eight this morning, with the aid of
- the engineer for the Ho Shan Company in that region, and with only two
- revolvers, he was defending the compound. I am going there. I will leave
- this noon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hear your alarming words with profound regret,” Pao's deep voice rolled
- about the large high room. “My people are suffering under an excitement
- which causes them to forget their responsibility as neighbors and their
- duty to their fellow men. I will send soldiers with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Soldiers should be sent, Your Excellency, and at once. Well-armed men.
- But I shall not wait.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are not going alone? And not in your usual manner, on foot?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Your Excellency.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But that may be unsafe.”.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My safety is of little consequence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is of great consequence to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For that I thank you. But it is to So T'ung a hundred and eighty <i>li</i>.
- The best mules or horses will need two days. I can walk there in less than
- one day. I have walked there in twenty hours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are a man of courage. I will order the soldiers to start by noon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Back at the compound, Doane assembled his staff in one of the schoolrooms.
- Mr. and Mrs. Boatwright were there, Miss Hemphill and Dr. Cassin. He laid
- the telegram before them, and repeated his conversation with the
- provincial judge.
- </p>
- <p>
- They listened soberly. For a brief time one spoke. Then Mrs. Boatwright
- asked, bluntly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are sure you ought to go?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane inclined his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If things are as bad as this, how about our safety here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will be protected. Both Pao and Chang will see to that. And in case
- of serious danger—something unforeseen, you must demand an escort to
- Ping Yang. You will be safe there with Monsieur Pourmont.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How about your own safety?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have put the responsibility squarely on Pao's shoulders. He knows what
- I am going to do. He is sending soldiers after me. He will undoubtedly
- telegraph ahead; he'll have to do that.”
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>etty was in his
- study, standing by the window. She turned quickly when he came in. He
- closed the door, and affecting a casual manner passed her with a smile and
- went into the bedroom for the light bag with a shoulder strap, the blanket
- roll and the ingenious light folding cot that he always carried on these
- expeditions if there was likelihood of his being caught overnight at
- native inns. He put on his walking boots and leggings, picked up his thin
- raincoat and the heavy stick that was his only weapon, and returned to the
- study.
- </p>
- <p>
- He felt Betty's eyes on him, and tried to speak in an offhand manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm off to So T'ung, Betty. Be back within two or three days.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She came over, slowly, hesitating, and lingered the blanket roll.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will there he danger at So T'ung, Dad?” she asked gently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very little, I think.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He saw that neither his words nor his manner answered the questions in her
- hind. Patting her shoulder, he added:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Kiss me good-by, child. You've been listening to the chatter of the
- compound. The worst place for gossip in the world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But she laid a light finger on the court-plaster that covered a cut on his
- cheek-bone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You never said a word about that, Dad. It was the riot at the fair. I
- know. You had to fight with them. And Li Hsien killed himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But His Excellency put down the trouble at once. That is over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She sank slowly into the swivel chair before the desk; dropped her cheek
- on her hand; said, in a low uneven voice:
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one talks to me... tells me...”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked down at her, standing motionless. His eyes filled. Then,
- deliberately, he put his park aside, and seated himself at the other side
- of the desk.
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked up, with a wistful smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm not afraid, Dad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You wouldn't be,” said he gravely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. But there is trouble, of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. There is trouble.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you think it will be as—as bad as—nineteen hundred?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No... no, I'm sure it won't. The officials simply can't afford to let
- that awful thing happen again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would be... well, discouraging,” said she thoughtfully. “Wouldn't it?
- To have all your work undone again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He found himself startled by her impersonal manner. He saw her, abruptly
- then, as a mature being. He didn't know how to talk to her. This
- thoughtful young woman was, curiously, a stranger.... And this was the
- first moment in which it had occurred to him that she might already have
- had beginning adult experience. She was an individual; had a life of her
- own to manage. There would have been men. She was old enough to have
- thought about marriage, even. It seemed incredible.... He sighed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're worried about me,” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shouldn't have brought you out here, dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't fit in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a great change for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I... I'm no good.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Betty, dear—that is not true. I can't let you say that, or think
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it's the truth. I'm no good. I've tried. I have, Dad. You know, to
- put everything behind me and make myself take hold.... And then I draw
- half the night, and miss my classes in the morning. It seems to go against
- my nature, some way. No matter how hard I try, it doesn't work. The worst
- of it is, in my heart I know it isn't going to work.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shouldn't have brought you out here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you couldn't help that, Dad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It did seem so.... I'm planning now to send you back as soon as we can
- manage it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, Dad... the expense...!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know. I am thinking about that. There will surely be a way to manage
- it, a little later. I mean to find a way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I can't go back to Uncle Frank's.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must work it out so that it won't be a burden to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean... pay board?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But think, Dad! I've cost you so much already!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am glad you have, dear. I think I've needed that. And I want you to go
- back to the Art League. You have a real talent. We must make the most of
- it.” Betty's gaze strayed out the window. Her father was a dear man. She
- hadn't dreamed he could see into her problems like this. She was afraid
- she might cry, so she spoke quickly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But that means making me still more a burden!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is the sort of burden 1 would love, Betty. But don't misunderstand me—I
- can't do all this now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I know!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may have to be patient for a time. Tell me, dear, first though... is
- it what you want most?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh... why...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Answer me if you can. If you know what you want most.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder if I do know. It's when I try to think that out clearly that it
- seems to me I'm no good.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I recognize, of course, that you are reaching the age when many girls
- think of marrying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I... oh...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't want to intrude into your intimate thoughts, dear. But in so far
- as we can plan together... it may help if...”
- </p>
- <p>
- She spoke with a touch of reserve that might have been, probably was,
- shyness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There have been men, of course, who—-well, wanted to marry me. This
- last year. There was one in New York. He used to come out and take me
- riding in his automobile. I—I always made some of the other girls
- come with us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane found it impossible to visualize this picture. When he was last in
- the States there were no automobiles on the streets. It suggested a
- condition of which he knew literally nothing, a wholly new set of
- influences in the life of young people. The thought was alarming; he had
- to close his eyes on it for a moment. Much as his daughter had seemed like
- a visitor from another planet, she had never seemed so far off as now. And
- he fell to thinking, along with this new picture, of the terribly hard
- struggle they had had out here, since 1900, in rebuilding the mission
- organization, in training new workers and creating a new morale. He felt
- tired.... His brain was tired. It would help to get out on the road again,
- swinging gradually into the rhythm of his forty-inch stride. Once more he
- would walk himself off, even as he hastened on an errand of rescue.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty was speaking again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And there's one now. He's in Korea, a mining engineer. He's awfully nice.
- But I—I don't think I could marry him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you love him, Betty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “N—no. No, I don't. Though I've wondered, sometimes, about these
- things....” The person she was wondering about, as she said this, was
- Jonathan Brachey. Suddenly, with her mind's eye, she saw this clearly. And
- it was startling. She couldn't so much as mention his name; certainly not
- to her father, kind and human as he seemed. But she would never hear from
- him again; not now. If he could live through those first few weeks without
- so much as writing, he could let the years go. That would have been the
- test for her sort of nature, and she could understand no other sort.
- </p>
- <p>
- She compressed her lips. She didn't know that her face showed something of
- the trouble in her mind. She spoke, bravely, with an abruptness that
- surprised herself a little, as it surprised him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Dad, I shan't marry. Not for years, if ever. I'd rather work. I'd
- rather work hard, if only I could fit in somewhere.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm seeing it a little more clearly, Betty.”' He arose. “On the way out
- I'll tell Mrs. Boatwright and Miss Hemphill both that I don't want you to
- do any more work about the compound.... No, dear, please! Let me
- finish!... When you're a few years older, you'll learn as I have learned,
- that the important thing is to find your own work, and find it early. So
- many lives take the wrong direction, through mistaken judgment, or a
- mistaken sense of duty. And nothing—nothing—can so mislead us
- as a sense of duty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He said this with an emphasis that puzzled Betty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The thing for you,” he went on, “is to draw. And dream. The dreaming will
- work out in more drawing, I imagine. For you have the nature of the
- artist. Your mother had it. You are like her, with something of my energy
- added. Don't let the atmosphere of the compound pull you down. It mustn't
- do that. Live within yourself. Let your energy go into honest expression
- of yourself. You see what I'm getting at—<i>be</i> yourself. Don't
- try to be some one else.... You happen to be here in an interesting time.
- There's a possibility that the drawings you could make out here, now,
- would have a value later on. So try to make a record of your life here
- with your pencil. And don't be afraid of happiness, dear.” He pointed to a
- row of jonquils in a window-box. “Happiness is as great a contribution to
- life as duty. Think how those flowers contribute! And remember that you
- are like them to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She clung to him, in impulsive affection, as she kissed him good-by. And
- it wasn't until late that night, as she lay in her white bed, such a glow
- did he leave in her warm little heart, that the odd nature of his talk
- caught her attention. She had never, never, heard him say such things. It
- was as if he, her great strong dad, were himself starved for happiness. As
- if he wanted her to have all the rich beauty of life that had passed him
- grimly by.
- </p>
- <p>
- She fell to wondering, sleepily, what he meant by finding a way to get the
- money. There was no way. Though it was dear of him even to think of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- She fell asleep then.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI—CATASTROPHE
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>OANE left the
- compound a little before noon, and arrived at So T'ung at six the
- following morning. The distance, a hundred and eighty <i>li</i>, was just
- short of sixty-five English miles. The road was little more than a
- footpath, so narrow that in the mountains, where the grinding of ages of
- traffic and the drainage from eroded slopes had long ago worn it down into
- a series of deep, narrow canyons, the came! trains, with their wide
- panniers, always found passing a matter of difficulty and confusion. Here
- it skirted a precipice, or twisted up and up to surmount the Pass of the
- Flighting Geese, just west of the sacred mountain; there it wandered along
- the lower hillsides above a spring torrent that would be, a few months
- later, a trickling rivulet. His gait averaged, over all conditions of road
- and of gradient, about five miles an hour. He followed, on this occasion,
- the principle of walking an hour, then resting fifteen minutes. And toward
- midnight he set up his cot by the roadside, in the shelter of a tree by a
- memorial arch, and gave himself two hours of sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little hill city of So T'ung was awake and astir, with gates open and
- traffic already flowing forth. There were no signs of disorder. But Doane
- noted that the anti-foreign mutterings and sneers along the roadside (to
- which he had grown accustomed twenty years earlier) were louder and more
- frequent than common. For himself he had not the slightest fear. His great
- height, his enormous strength, his commanding eye, had always, except on
- the one recent occasion of the riot at the T'ainan fair, been enough to
- cow any native who was near enough to do him injury. And added to this
- moral and physical strength he had lately felt a somewhat surprising
- recklessness. He felt this now. He didn't care what happened, so long as
- he might be busy in the thick of it. His personal safety took on
- importance only when he kept Betty in mind. He must save himself to
- provide for her. And, of course, in the absence of any other strong
- personality, the mission workers needed him; they had no one else, just
- now, on whom to lean. And then there were the hundreds of native
- Christians; they needed him, for they would be slaughtered first... if it
- should come to that. They would be loyal, and would die, at the last, for
- their faith.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the long hours of walking through the still mountain night, his
- thoughts ranged far. He considered talking over his problems with M.
- Pourmont. There should be work for a strong, well-trained man somewhere in
- the railroad development that was going on all over the yellow kingdom.
- Preferably in some other region, where he wouldn't be known. Starting
- fresh, that was the thing!
- </p>
- <p>
- Over and over the rather blank thought came around, that a man has no
- right to bring into the world a child for whom he can not properly, fully,
- care. And it came down to money, to some money; not as wealth, but as the
- one usable medium of human exchange. A little of it, honestly earned,
- meant that a man was productive, was paying his way. A saying of Emerson's
- shot in among his racing thoughts—something about clergymen always
- demanding a handicap. It was wrong, he felt. It was—he went as far
- as this, toward dawn—parasitic. A man, to live soundly, healthily,
- must shoulder his way among his fellows, prove himself squarely.
- </p>
- <p>
- And he dwelt for hours at a time on the ethical basis of all this
- missionary activity. It was what he came around to all night. There was an
- assumption—it was, really, the assumption on which his present life
- was based—that the so-called Christian civilization, Western Europe
- and America—owed its superiority to what he thought of as the
- Christian consciousness. That superiority was always implied. It was the
- motive power back of this persistent proselytizing. But to-night, as
- increasingly of late years, he found himself whittling away the
- implications of a spiritual and even ethical quality in that superiority
- of the White over the Yellow. More and more clearly it seemed to come down
- to the physical. It was the amazing discoveries in what men call modern
- science, and the wide application in industry of these discoveries, that
- made much of the difference. Then there were the accidents of climate and
- soil and of certain happy mixtures of blood through conquests... these
- things made a people great or weak. And lesser accidents, such as a simple
- alphabet, making it easy and cheap to print ideas; the Chinese alphabet
- and the lack of easy transportation had held China back, he believed....
- Back of all these matters lay, of course, a more powerful determinant; the
- genius that might be waxing or waning in a people. The genius of America
- was waxing, clearly; and the genius of China had been waning for six
- hundred years. But in her turn, China had waxed, as had Rome, and Greece,
- and Egypt. None of these had known the Christian consciousness, yet each
- had run her course. And Greece and Rome, without it, had risen high. Rome,
- indeed, whatever the reason, had begun to wane from the very dawn of
- Christianity; and had finally succumbed, not to that, but to barbarians
- who had in them crude physical health and enterprise.
- </p>
- <p>
- The more deeply he pondered, the more was he inclined to question the
- importance of Christianity in the Western scheme. For Western
- civilization, to his burning eyes, walking at night, alone, over the hills
- of ancient Hansi, looked of a profoundly materialistic nature. You felt
- that, out here, where oil and cigarettes and foreign-made opium and
- merchandise of all sorts were pushing in, all the time, about and beyond
- the missionaries. And with bayonets always bristling in the background.
- The West hadn't the finely great gift of Greece or the splendid unity of
- Rome. Its art was little more than a confusion of copies, a library of
- historical essays. And art seemed, now, important. And as for religion...
- Doane had moments of real bitterness, that night, about religion. And he
- thought around and around a circle. The one strongest, best organized
- church of the West—the one that made itself felt most effectively in
- China—seemed to him not only opposed to the scientific enterprise
- that was, if anything, peculiarly the genius of the West, but insistent on
- superstitions (for so they looked, out here) beside which the quiet
- rationalism of the Confucian drift seemed very reality. And the period of
- the greatest power and glory of that church had been, to all European
- civilization, the Dark Ages. The Reformation and the modern free political
- spirit appeared to be cognates, yet the evangelical churches fought
- science, in their turn, from their firm base of divine revelation. It was
- difficult, to-night, to see the miracles and mysteries of Christianity as
- other than legendary superstitions handed down by primitive, credulous
- peoples. It was difficult to see them as greatly different from the
- incantations of the Boxers or of these newer Lookers.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then, of all those great peoples that had waxed and waned, China alone
- remained.... There was a thought! She might wax again. For there she was,
- as always. Without the Christian consciousness, the Chinese, of all the
- great peoples, alone had endured.
- </p>
- <p>
- A fact slightly puzzling to Doane was that he thought all this under a
- driving nervous pressure. Now and then his mind rushed him, got a little
- out of control. And at these times he walked too fast.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he mission station
- was situated in the northern suburbs of So T'ung-fu, outside the wall.
- Duane went directly there.
- </p>
- <p>
- The mission compound lay a smoking ruin. Not a building of the five or six
- that had stood in the walled acre, was now more than a heap of bricks,
- with a Ft of wall or a chimney standing. The compound wall had been
- battered down at a number of points, apparently with a heavy timber that
- now lay outside one of the breaches. There was no sign of life.
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked in among the ruins. They were still too hot for close
- examination. But he found the body of a white man lying in an open space,
- clad in flannel shirt and riding breeches, with knee-high laced boots of
- the sort commonly worn by engineers. The face was unrecognizable. The top
- of the head, too, had been beaten in. But on the back of the head grew'
- curly yellow' hair. From the figure evidently a young man; one of
- Pourmont's adventurous crew; probably one of the Australians or New
- Zealanders. A revolver lay near the outstretched hand. Doane picked it up
- and examined it. Every chamber was empty. And here and there along the
- path were empty cartridges; as if he had retreated stubbornly, loading and
- firing as he could. Not far off lay an empty cartridge box. That would be
- where he had filled for the last time. He must have sent some of the
- bullets home; but the attackers had removed their dead. Yes, closer
- scrutiny discovered a number of blood-soaked areas along the path.
- </p>
- <p>
- A young Chinese joined him, announcing himself as a helper at the station.
- Jen Ling Pu had sent him out over the rear wall, he said, with the
- telegram to Mr. Doa ne.
- </p>
- <p>
- Together they carried the body of the white man to a clear space near the
- wall and buried him in a shallow grave. Duane repeated the burial service
- in brief form.
- </p>
- <p>
- The boy, whose name was Wen, explained that on his return from the
- telegraph station he had found it impossible to get into the compound, as
- it was then surrounded, and accordingly hid in the neighborhood. By that
- time, he said, Jen, with the three or four helpers and servants who had
- not perished in the other buildings, one or two native Bible-women, a few
- children of native Christians and the white man were all in the main
- house, and were firing through the windows. They had all undoubtedly been
- burned to death, as only the white man had come out. He himself could not
- get close enough to see much of what happened, though he slipped in among
- the curious crowd outside and picked up what information he could. The
- attacking parlies were by no means of one mind or of settled purpose. The
- Lookers among them were for a quick and complete massacre, as were the
- young rowdies who had joined in the attack for the fun of it. But there
- were more moderate councils. And so many were injured or killed by the
- accurate marksmanship of the young foreign devil, that for a time they all
- seemed to lose heart. The Lookers were subjected to ridicule by the crowd
- because by their incantations they were supposed to render themselves
- invisible to foreign eyes, and it was difficult to explain the high
- percentage of casualties among them on the grounds of accidental contact
- with flying bullets. Finally a ruse was decided on. The white man was to
- come out for a parley. A student, recently attached to the yamen of the
- local magistrate as an interpreter volunteered—in good faith, Wen
- believed—to act in that capacity on this occasion.
- </p>
- <p>
- The meeting took place by one of the breaches in the wall. The engineer
- demanded that the three principal leaders of the Lookers Le surrendered to
- him on the spot, and held until the arrival of troops from T'ainan. While
- they were pretending to listen, a party crept around behind the wall. He
- heard them, stepped back in time to avoid being clubbed to death, in a
- moment shot two of them dead, and shot also the captain of the Lookers,
- who had been conducting the parley. Then, evidently, he had backed tow ard
- the main house and had nearly reached it when his cartridges gave out.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane was busy, what with the improvised burial and with noting down Wen's
- narrative, until nearly noon. By this time he was very sleepy. There was
- nothing more he could do. The ruins of the main house would not be cool
- before morning. Nor would the soldiers arrive. He decided to call at once
- on the magistrate and arrange for a guard to be left in charge of the
- compound; then to set up his cot in a cell in one of the local
- caravansaries. He had brought a little food, and the magistrate would give
- him what else he needed. The innkeeper would brew him tea.... Before two
- o'clock he was asleep.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p>
- He was awakened by a persistent light tapping at the door. Lying there in
- the dusky room, fully clad, gazing out under heavy lids at the dingy wall
- with its dingier banners hung about lettered with the Chinese characters
- for happiness and prosperity, and at the tattered gray paper squares
- through which came soft evening sounds of mules and asses munching their
- fodder at the long open manger, of children talking, of a carter singing
- to himself in quavering falsetto, it seemed to him that the knocking had
- been going on for a very long time. His thoughts, slowly coming awake,
- were of tragic stuff. Death stalked again the hills of Hansi. Friends had
- been butchered. The blood of his race had been spilled again. Life was a
- grim thing....
- </p>
- <p>
- A voice called, in pidgin-English.
- </p>
- <p>
- He replied gruffly; sat up; struck a match and lighted the rush-light on
- the table. It was just after eight.
- </p>
- <p>
- He went to the door; opened it. A small, soft, yellow Chinaman stood
- there.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you want?” Doane asked in Chinese.
- </p>
- <p>
- The yellow man looked blank.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My no savvy,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What side you belong?” The familiar pidgin-English phrases sounded
- grotesquely in Doane's ears, even as they fell from his own lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My belong Shanghai side,” explained the man. He was apparently a servant.
- Some one would have brought him out here. Though to what end it would be
- hard to guess, for a servant who can not make himself understood has small
- value. And no Shanghai man can do that in Hansi.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What pidgin belong you this side?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My missy wanchee chin-chin.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus the man. His mistress wished a word. It was odd. Who, what, would his
- mistress be!
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane always made it a rule, in these caravansaries, to engage the “number
- one” room if it was to be had. A countryside inn, in China, is usually a
- walled rectangle of something less or more than a halfacre in extent.
- Across the front stands the innkeeper's house, and the immense, roofed,
- swinging gates, built of strong timbers and planks. Along one side wall
- extend the stables, where the animals stand a row, looking over the manger
- into the courtyard. Along the other side are cell-like rooms, usually on
- the same level as the ground, with floors of dirt or worn old tile, with a
- table, a narrow chair or two of bent wood, and the inevitable brick <i>kang</i>,
- or platform bed with a tiny charcoal stove built into it and a thickness
- or two of matting thrown over the dirt and insect life of the crumbling
- surface. At the end of the court opposite' the gate stands, nearly always,
- a small separate building, the floor raised two or three steps from the
- ground. This is, in the pidgin vernacular, the “number one” room. Usually,
- however, it is large enough for division into two or three rooms. In the
- present instance there were two rather large rooms on either side of an
- entrance hall. Doane had been ushered into one of these rooms with no
- thought for the possible occupant of the other, beyond sleepily noting
- that the door was closed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hastily brushing his hair and smoothing the wrinkles out of his coat he
- stepped across the hall. That other door was ajar now. He tapped; and a
- woman's voice, a voice not unpleasing in quality, cried, in English, “Come
- in!”
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>he rose, as he
- pushed open the door, from the chair. She was young—certainly in the
- twenties—and unexpectedly, curiously beautiful. Her voice was
- Western American. Her abundant hair wras a vivid yellow. She was clad in a
- rather elaborate negligee robe that looked odd in the dingy room. Her cot
- stood by the paper windows, on a square of new white matting. Two
- suit-cases stood on bricks nearer the <i>kang.</i> And a garment was
- tacked up across the broken paper squares.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm sorry to trouble you,” she said breathlessly. “But it's getting
- unbearable. I've waited here ever since yesterday for some word. I know
- there was trouble. I heard so much shooting. And they made such a racket
- yelling. They got into the compound here. I had to cover my windows, you
- see. It was awful. All night I thought they'd murder me. And this morning
- I slept a little in the chair. And then you came in... I saw you... and I
- was wild to ask you the news. I thought perhaps you'd help me. I've sat
- here for hours, trying to keep from disturbing you. I knew you were
- sleeping.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She ran on in an ungoverned, oddly intimate way.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm glad to be of what service I—” He found himself saying
- something or other; wondering with a strangely cold mind what he could
- possibly do and why on earth she was here. His own long pent-up emotional
- nature was answering hers with profoundly disturbing force.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ought to ask you to sit down,” she was saying. She caught his arm and
- almost forced him into the chair. She even stroked his shoulder, nervously
- yet casually. He coldly told himself that he must keep steady, impersonal;
- it was the unexpectedness of this queer situation, the shock of it...
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's all right,” said she. “I'll sit on the cot. It's a pig-sty here. But
- sometimes you can't help these things.... please tell me what dreadful
- thing has happened!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She had large brown eyes... odd, with that hair!... and they met his, hung
- on them.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a low measured voice he explained:
- </p>
- <p>
- “The natives attacked a mission station here—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, just a mission!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They burned it down, and killed all but one of the workers there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Were they white?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The workers were Chinese, Christian Chinese. But—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I see! I couldn't imagine what it was all about. It's been frightful.
- Sitting here, without a word. But if it was just among the Chinese, then
- where's—I've got to tell you part of it—where's Harley
- Beggins? He brought me out here. He isn't the kind that skips out without
- a word. I've known him two years. He's a good fellow. You see, this thing—whatever
- it is—leaves me in a hole. I can't just sit here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am trying to tell you. Please listen as calmly as you can. First tell
- me something about this Harley Beggins.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He's with the Ho Shan Company. An engineer. But say—you don't mean—you're
- not going to—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was a young man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. Tall. Curly hair. A fine-looking young man. And very refined. His
- family... but, my God, you—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must keep quiet!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Keep quiet! I'd like to know how, when you keep me in suspense like
- this!” She was on her feet now.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am going to tell you. But you must control yourself. Mr. Beggins must
- be the young engineer who tried to help the people in the compound.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was killed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quiet! Yes, he was killed. I buried him this morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the young woman's nerves gave way utterly, Doane found his mind
- divided between the cold thought of leaving her, perhaps asking the
- magistrate to give her an escort down to Ting Yang or up through the wall
- to Peking, and the other terribly strong impulse to stay. It was clear
- that she was not—well, a good woman; excitingly clear. She said odd
- things. “Well, see where this mess leaves <i>me!</i>” for one. And,
- “What's to become of me? Do I just stay out here? Die here? Is this
- all?”... When, daring a lull in the scene she was making he undertook to
- go, she clung to him and sobbed on his shoulder. The young engineer had
- meant little in her life. Her present emotion was almost wholly fright.
- </p>
- <p>
- He knew, then, that he couldn't go. He was being swept toward destruction.
- It seemed like that. He could think coolly about it during the swift
- moments. He could watch his own case. One by one, in quick-flashing
- thoughts, he brought up all the arguments for morality, for duty, for
- common decency, and one by one they failed him. Something in life was too
- strong for him. Something in his nature.... This, then was the natural end
- of all his brooding, speculating, struggling with the demon of
- unbelief.... And even then he felt the hideously tragic quality of this
- hour.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 5
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>he was, it came
- out, a notorious woman of Soo-chow Road, Shanghai; one of the so-called
- “American girls” that have brought a good name to local disgrace. The new
- American judge, at that time engaged in driving out the disreputable women
- and the gamblers from the quasi protection of the consular courts, had
- issued a warrant for her arrest, whereupon young Beggins, who had been
- numbered among her “friends,” had undertaken to protect her, out here in
- the interior, until the little wave of reform should have passed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Despite her vulgarity, and despite the chill of spiritual death in his
- heart, he wished to be kind to her. Something of the long-frustrated
- emotional quality of the man overflowed toward her. He did what he could;
- laid her case before the magistrate, and left enough money to buy her a
- ticket to Peking from the northern railroad near Kalgan. This in the
- morning.
- </p>
- <p>
- One other thing he did in the morning was to write to Hidderleigh, at
- Shanghai, telling enough of the truth about his fall, and asking that his
- successor be sent out at the earliest moment possible. And he sent off the
- letter, early, at the Chinese post-office. At least he needn't play the
- hypocrite. The worst imaginable disaster had come upon him. His real life,
- it seemed, was over As for telling the truth at the mission, his mind
- would shape a course. The easiest thing would be to tell Boatwright,
- straight. Though in any case it would come around to them from Shanghai.
- He had sealed his fate when he posted the letter. They would surely know,
- all of them. Henry Withery would know. It would reach the congregations
- back there in the States. At the consulates and up and down the coast—where
- men drank and gambled and carved fortunes out of great inert China and
- loved as they liked—they would be laughing at him within a
- fortnight.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then he thought of Betty.
- </p>
- <p>
- That night, on the march back to T'ainan, he stood, a solitary figure on
- the Pass of the Flighting Geese, looking up, arms outstretched, toward the
- mountain that for thousands of years has been to the sons of Han a sacred
- eminence; and the old prayer, handed down from another Oriental race as
- uttered by a greater sinner than he, burst from his lips:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will lift mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But no help came to Griggsby Duane that night. With tears lying warm on
- his cheeks he strode down the long slope toward Tainan.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII—LOVE IS A TROUBLE
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T WAS early
- morning—the first day of April—when the Pacific liner that
- carried Betty Doane and Jonathan Brachey out of Yokohama dropped anchor in
- the river below Shanghai and there discharged passengers and freight for
- all central and northern China.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey, on that occasion, watched from his cabin porthole while Betty and
- the Hasmers descended the accommodation ladder and boarded the company's
- launch. Then, not before, he drank coffee and nibbled a roll. His long
- face was gray and deeply lined. He had not slept.
- </p>
- <p>
- He went up to Shanghai on the next launch, walked directly across the Bund
- to the row of steamship offices, and engaged passage on a north-bound
- coasting steamer. That evening he dined alone, out on the Yellow Sea,
- steaming toward Tsingtau, Chefu and (within the five days) Tientsin. He
- hadn't meant to take in the northern ports at this time; his planned
- itinerary covered the Yangtse Valley, where the disorderly young shoots of
- revolution were ripening slowly into red flower. But he was a shaken man.
- As he saw the problem of his romance, there were two persons to be saved,
- Betty and himself. He had behaved, on the one occasion, outrageously. He
- could see his action now as nothing other than weakness, curiously
- despicable, in the light of the pitiless facts. Reason had left him. Gusts
- of emotion lashed him. He now regarded the experience as a storm that must
- be somehow weathered. He couldn't weather it in Shanghai. Not with Betty
- there. He would surely seek her; find her. With his disordered soul he
- would cry out to her. In this alarming mood no subterfuge would appear too
- mean—sending clandestine notes by yellow hands, arranging furtive
- meetings.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was, of course, running away from her, from his task, from himself. It
- was expensive business. But he had meant to work up as far as Tientsin and
- Peking before the year ran out. He was, after all, but taking that part of
- it first. To this bit of justification he clung. He passed but one night
- at Tientsin, in the curiously British hotel, on an out-and-out British
- street, where one saw little more to suggest the East than the Chinese
- policeman at the corner, an occasional passing amah or mafoo, and the
- blue-robed, soft-footed hotel servants; then on to Peking by train, an
- easy four-hour run, lounging in a European dining-car where the allied
- troops had fought their way foot by foot only seven years earlier.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey, though regarded by critical reviewers as a rising authority on
- the Far East, had never seen Peking. India he knew; the Straits
- Settlements—at Singapore and Penang he was a person of modest but
- real standing; Borneo, Java, Celebes and the rest of the vast archipelago,
- where flying fish skim a burnished sea and green islands float above a
- shimmering horizon against white clouds; the Philippines, Siam, Cochin
- China and Hongkong; but the swarming Middle Kingdom and its Tartar capital
- were fresh fuel to his coldly eager mind. He stopped, of course, at the
- almost Parisian hotel of the International Sleeping Car Company, just off
- Legation Street.
- </p>
- <p>
- Peking, in the spring of 1907, presented a far from unpleasant aspect to
- the eye of the traveler. The siege of the legations was already history
- and half-forgotten; the quarter itself had been wholly rebuilt. The
- clearing away of the crowded Chinese houses about the legations left <i>à
- glacis</i> of level ground that gave dignity to the walled enclosure.
- Legation Street, paved, bordered by stone walks and gray compound-walls,
- dotted with lounging figures of Chinese gatekeepers and alert sentries of
- this or that or another nation—British, American, Italian, Austrian,
- Japanese, French, Belgian, Dutch, German—offered a pleasant stroll
- of a late afternoon when the sun was low. Through gateways there were
- glimpses to be caught of open-air tea parties, of soldiers drilling, or
- even of children playing. Tourists wandered afoot or rolled by in
- rickshaws drawn by tattered blue and brown coolies.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the western end of the street beyond the American <i>glacis</i>, one
- might see the traffic through the Chien Gate, with now and then a nose-led
- train of camels humped above the throng; and beyond, the vast brick walls
- and the shining yellow palace roofs of the Imperial City. Around to the
- north, across the Japanese <i>glacis</i>, one could stroll, in the early
- evening, to the motion-picture show, where one-reel films from Paris were
- run off before an audience of many colors and more nations and costumes,
- while a placid Chinaman manipulated a mechanical piano.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>rachey had letters
- to various persons of importance along the street. With the etiquette of
- remote colonial capitals, he had long since trained himself to a
- mechanical conformity. Accordingly he devoted his first afternoon to a
- round of calls, by rickshaw; leaving cards in the box provided for the
- purpose at the gate house of each compound. Before another day had gone he
- found return cards in his box at the hotel; and thus was he established as
- <i>persona grata</i> on Legation Street. Invitations followed. The
- American minister had him for tiffin. There were pleasant meals at the
- legation barracks. Tourist groups at the hotel made the inevitable
- advances, which he met with austere dignity. Meantime he busied himself
- discussing with experts the vast problems confronting the Chinese in
- adjusting their racial life to the modern world, and within a few days was
- jotting down notes and preparing tentative outlines for his book.
- </p>
- <p>
- This activity brought him, at first, some relief from the emotional storm
- through which he had been passing. Work, he told himself, was the thing;
- work, and a deliberate avoidance of further entanglements.
- </p>
- <p>
- If, in taking this course, he was dealing severely with the girl whose
- brightly pretty face and gently charming ways had for a time disarmed him,
- he was dealing quite as severely with himself; for beneath his crust of
- self-sufficiency existed shy but turbulent springs of feeling. That was
- the trouble; that had always been the trouble; he dared not let himself
- feel, lie had let go once before, just once, only to skim the very border
- of tragedy. The color of that one bitter experience of his earlier manhood
- ran through every subsequent act of his life. Month by month, through the
- years, he had winced as he drew a check to the hard, handsome, strange
- woman who had been, it appeared, his wife; who was, incredibly, his wife
- yet. With a set face he had read and courteously answered letters from
- this stranger. A woman of worldly wants, all of which came, in the end, to
- money. The business of his life had settled down to a systematic meeting
- of those wants. That, and industriously employing his talent for travel
- and solitude.
- </p>
- <p>
- No, the thing was to think, not feel. To logic and will he pinned his
- faith. Impulses rose every day, here in Peking, to write Betty. It
- wouldn't be hard to trace her father's address. For that matter he knew
- the city. He found it impossible to forget a word of hers. Vivid memories
- of her round pretty face, of the quick humorous expression about her brown
- eyes, the movements of her trim little head and slim body, recurred with,
- if anything, a growing vigor They would leap into his mind at unexpected,
- awkward moments, cutting the thread of sober conversations. At such
- moments he felt strongly that impulse to explain himself further. But his
- clear mind told him that there would be no good in it. None. She might
- respond; that would involve them the more deeply. He had gone too far. He
- had (this in the bitter hours) transgressed. The thing was to let her
- forget; it would, he sincerely tried to hope, be easier for her to forget
- than for himself He had to try to hope that.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ut on an evening
- the American military attaché dined with him. They sat comfortably over
- the coffee and cigars at one side of the large hotel dining-room. Brachey
- liked the attaché. His military training, his strong practical instinct
- for fact, his absorption in his work, made him the sort with whom Brachey,
- who had no small talk, really no social grace, could let himself go. And
- the attaché knew China. He had traversed the interior from Manchuria and
- Mongolia to the borders of Thibet and the Loto country of Yunnan, and
- could talk, to sober ears, interestingly. On this occasion, after dwelling
- long on the activity of secret revolutionary societies in the southern
- provinces and in the Yangtse Valley, he suddenly threw out the following
- remark:
- </p>
- <p>
- “But of course, Brachey, there's an excellent chance, right now, to study
- a revolution in the making out here in Hansi. You can get into the heart
- of it in less than a week's travel. And if you don't mind a certain
- element of danger...”
- </p>
- <p>
- The very name of the province thrilled Brachey. He sat, fingering his
- cigar, his face a mask of casual attention, fighting to control the uprush
- of feeling. The attache was talking on. Brachey caught bits here and
- there; “You've seen this crowd of banker persons from Europe around the
- hotel? Came out over the Trans Siberian with their families. A committee
- representing the Directorate of the Ho Shan Company. The story is that
- they've been asked to keep out of Hansi for the present for fear of
- violence.... You'd get the whole thing, out there—officials with a
- stake 'n the local mines shrewdly stirring up trouble while pretending to
- put it down; rich young students agitating, the Chinese equivalent of our
- soap-box Socialists; and queer Oriental motives and twists that you and I
- can't expect to understand.... The significant thing though, the big fact
- for you, I should say—is that if the Hansi agitators succeed in
- turning this little rumpus over the mining company into something of a
- revolution against the Imperial Government, it'll bring them into an
- understanding with the southern provinces. It may yet prove the deciding
- factor in the big row. Something as if Ohio should go democratic this
- year, back home. You see?... There are queer complications. Our Chinese
- secretary says that a personal quarrel between two mandarins is a
- prominent item in the mix-up.... That's the place for you, all right—Hansi!
- They've got the narrow-gauge railway nearly through to T'ainan-fu, I
- believe. You can pick up a guide here at the hotel. He'll engage a cook.
- You won't drink the water, of course; better carry a few cases of Tan San.
- And don't eat the green vegetables. Take some beef and mutton and potatoes
- and rice. You can buy chickens and eggs. Get a money belt and carry all
- the Mexican dollars you can stagger under. Provincial money's no good a
- hundred miles away. Take some English gold for a reserve. That's good
- everywhere. And you'll want your overcoat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Five minutes later Brachey heard this:
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. P. Browning, the Agent General of the Ho Shan Company, is stopping
- here now, along with the committee. Talk with him, first. Get the
- company's view of it. He'll talk freely. Then go out there and have a look—see
- for yourself. Say the word, and I'll give you a card to Browning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Now Brachey looked up. It seemed to him, so momentous was the hour, that
- his pulse had stopped. He sat very still, looking at his guest, obviously
- about to speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- The attaché, to whom this man's deliberate cold manner was becoming a
- friendly enough matter of course, waited.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks,” Brachey finally said. “Be glad to have it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the particular card, scribbled by the attaché, there across the table,
- was never presented. For late that night, in a bitter revulsion of
- feeling, Brachey tore it up.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n the morning,
- however, when he stopped at the desk, the Belgian clerk handed him a thick
- letter from his attorney in New York, forwarded from his bank in Shanghai.
- He read and reread it, while his breakfast turned cold; studied it with an
- unresponsive brain.
- </p>
- <p>
- It seemed that his wife's attorney had approached his with a fresh
- proposal. Her plan had been to divorce him on grounds of desertion and
- non-support; this after his refusal to supply what is euphemistically
- termed “statutory evidence.” But the fact that she had from month to month
- through the years accepted money from him, and not infrequently had
- demanded extra sums by letter and telegram, made it necessary that he
- enter into collusion with her to the extent of keeping silent and
- permitting her suit to go through unopposed. His own instructions to his
- lawyer stood flatly to the contrary.
- </p>
- <p>
- But a new element had entered the situation. She wished to marry again.
- The man of her new choice had means enough to care for her comfortably.
- And in her eagerness to be free she proposed to release him from payment
- of alimony beyond an adjustment to cover the bare cost of her suit, on
- condition that he withdraw his opposition.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the old maneuvering and bargaining. At first thought it disgusted
- and hurt him. The woman's life had never come into contact with his, since
- the first few days of their married life, without hurting him. He had been
- harsh, bitter, unforgiving. He had believed himself throughout in the
- right. She had shown (in his view) no willingness to take marriage
- seriously, give him and herself a fair trial, make a job of it. She had
- exhibited no trait that he could accept as character. It had seemed to him
- just that she should suffer as well as he.
- </p>
- <p>
- But now, as the meaning of the letter penetrated his mind, his spirits
- began to rise. It was a tendency he resisted; but he was helpless. From
- moment to moment his heart, swelled. Not once before in four years had the
- thought of freedom occurred to him as a desirable possibility. But now he
- knew that he would accept it, even at the cost of collusion and
- subterfuge. He saw nothing of the humor in the situation; that he, who had
- judged the woman so harshly, should find his code of ethics, his very
- philosophy, dashed to the ground by a look from a pair of brown eyes,
- meant little. It was simply that up to the present time an ethical
- attitude had been the important thing, whereas now the important thing was
- Betty. That was all there seemed to be to it. But then there had been
- almost as little of humor as of love in the queerly solitary life of
- Jonathan Brachey.
- </p>
- <p>
- He cabled his attorney, directly after breakfast, to agree to the divorce.
- Before noon he had engaged a guide and arranged with him to take the
- morning train southward to the junction whence that narrow-gauge Hansi
- Line was pushing westward toward the ancient provincial capital.
- </p>
- <p>
- In all this there was no plan. Brachey, confused, aware that the
- instinctive pressures of life were too much for him, that he was beaten,
- was soberly, breathlessly, driving toward the girl who had touched and
- tortured his encrusted heart. He was not even honest with himself; he
- couldn't be. He dwelt on the importance of studying the Hansi problem at
- close range He decided, among other things, that he wouldn't permit
- himself to see Betty, that he would merely stay secretly near her,
- certainly until a cablegram from New York should announce his positive
- freedom. In accordance with this decision he tore up his letters to her as
- fast as they were written. If the fact that he was now writing such
- letters indicated an alarming condition in his emotional nature, at least
- his will was still intact. He proved that by tearing them up. He even
- found this thought encouraging.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, of course, he had taken his real beating when he gave up his plans
- and caught the coasting steamer at Shanghai. He was to learn now that
- rushing away from Betty and rushing toward her were irradiations of the
- same emotion.
- </p>
- <p>
- He left Peking on that early morning way-train of passenger and freight
- cars, without calling again at the legation; merely sent a chit to the
- Commandant of Marines to say that he was off. He had not heard of the
- requirement that a white traveler into the interior carry a consular
- passport countersigned by Chinese authorities, and also, for purposes of
- identification, a supply of cards with the Chinese equivalent of his name;
- so he set forth without either, and (as a matter of fixed principle)
- without firearms.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII—THE WAYFARER
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>ASSENGER traffic
- on the Hansi Line ended at this time at a village called Shau T'ing, in
- the heart of the red mountains. Brachey spent the night in a native
- caravansary, his folding cot set up on the earthen floor. The room was
- dirty, dilapidated, alive with insects and thick with ancient odors. A
- charcoal fire in the crumbling brick <i>kang</i> gave forth fumes of gas
- that suggested the possibility of asphyxiation before morning. Brachey
- sent his guide, a fifty-year-old Tientsin Chinese of corpulent figure,
- known, for convenience, as “John,” for water and extinguished the fire.
- The upper half of the inner wall was a wooden lattice covered with paper;
- and by breaking all the paper squares within his reach, Brachey contrived
- to secure a circulation of air. Next he sent John for a piece of new
- yellow matting, and by spreading this under the cot created a mild
- sensation of cleanliness, which, though it belied the facts, made the
- situation a thought more bearable. For Brachey, though a veteran traveler,
- was an extremely fastidious man. He bore dirt and squalor, had borne them
- at intervals for years, without ever losing his squeamish discomfort at
- the mere thought of them. But the stern will that was during these, years
- the man's outstanding trait, and his intense absorption in his work, had
- kept him driving ahead through all petty difficulties. The only outward
- sign of the strain it put him to was an increased irritability.
- </p>
- <p>
- He traveled from Shau T'ing to Ping Yang, the next day in an unroofed
- freight ear without a seat, crowded in with thirty-odd Chinese and their
- luggage. During the entire day he spoke hardly a word. His two servants
- guarded him from contact with the other natives; but he ignored even his
- own men. At a way station, where the engine waited half an hour for water
- and coal, a lonely division engineer from Lombardy called out a greeting
- in bad French. Brachey coldly snubbed the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- He planned to pick up either a riding animal or a mule litter at Ping
- Yang. As it turned out, the best John could secure was a freight cart;
- springless, of course. T'ainan was less than a hundred miles away, yet he
- was doomed to three days of travel in a creaking, hard-riding cart through
- the sunken roads, where dust as fine as flour sifts through the clothing
- and rubs into the pores of the skin, and to two more nights at native inns—with
- little hope of better accommodation at T'ainan.
- </p>
- <p>
- By this time Brachey was in a state of nerves that alarmed even himself.
- Neither will nor imagination was proving equal to this new sort of strain.
- The confusion of motives that had driven him out here provided no sound
- justification for the journey. When he tried to think work now, he found
- himself thinking Betty. And misgivings were creeping into his mind. It
- amounted to demoralization.
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked out after the solitary dinner of soup and curried chicken and
- English strawberry jam. The little village was settling into evening calm.
- Men and boys, old women and very little girls, sat in the shop fronts—here
- merely rickety porticoes with open doorways giving on dingy courtyards—or
- played about the street. Carpenters were still working on the roof of the
- new railway station. Three young men, in an open field, were playing
- decorously with a shuttlecock of snake's skin and duck feathers, deftly
- kicking it from player to player. Farther along the street a middle-aged
- man of great dignity, clad in a silken robe and black skull-cap with the
- inevitable red knot, was flying a colored kite ... through all this,
- Jonathan Brachey, the expert observer, wandered about unseeing.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>arther up the
- hill, however, rounding a turn in the road, he stopped short, suddenly
- alive to the vivid outer world. A newly built wall of brick stood before
- him, enclosing an area of two acres or more, within which appeared the
- upper stories of European houses, as well as the familiar curving roofs of
- Chinese tile. And just outside the walls two young men and two young
- women, in outing clothes, white folk all, were playing tennis. To their
- courteous greeting he responded frigidly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Later a somewhat baffled young Australian led him to the office of M.
- Pourmont and presented him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The distinguished French engineer, looking up from his desk, beheld a tall
- man in homespun knickerbockers, a man with a strong if slightly forbidding
- face. He fingered the card.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, Monsieur Brashayee! Indeed, yes! It is ze <i>grand plaisir!</i> But
- it mus' not be true zat you go on all ze vay to T'ainan-fu.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” Brachey replied with icy courtesy, “I am going to T'ainan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But ze time, he is not vat you call—-ripe. One makes ze trouble. It
- is only a month zat zay t'row ze <i>pierre</i> at me, zay tear ze cart of
- me, zay destroy ze ear of me! <i>Choses affreuses!</i> I mus'not let you
- go!''
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey heard this without taking it in any degree to himself. He was
- looking at the left ear of this stout, bearded Parisian, from which, he
- observed, the lobe was gone.... Then, with a quickening pulse, he thought
- of Betty out there in T'ainan, in real danger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come wiz me!” cried M. Pourmont. “I vill show you vat ve do—<i>nous
- ici</i>.” And snatching up a bunch of keys he led Brachey out about the
- compound. He opened one door upon what appeared to be a heap of old
- clothes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Des sac â terres</i>,” he explained.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey picked one up. “Ah,” he remarked, coldly interested—“sand-bags!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, it is zat. Sand-bag for ze vail. Ve have ze <i>femme Chinoise</i>—ze
- Chinese vimmen—sew zem all every day. And you vill look...” He led
- the way with this to a corner of the grounds where the firm loess had been
- turned up with a pick. “It is so, Monsieur Brashayee, <i>partout</i>. All
- is ready. In von night ve fill ze bag, ve are a fort, ve are ready....
- See! An' see!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He pointed out a low scaffolding built here and there along the compound
- wall for possible use as a firing step. Just outside the wall crowding
- native houses were being torn down. “I buy zem,” explained M. Pourmont
- with a chuckle, “an' I clear avay. I make a <i>glacis, nest ce pas?</i>”
- On several of the flat roofs of supply sheds along the wall were heaps of
- the bags, ready filled, covered from outside eyes with old boards. In one
- building, under lock and key, were two machine guns and box on box of
- ammunition. Back in M. Pourmont's private study was a stand of modern
- rifles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You vill see by all zis vat is ze t'ought of myself,” concluded the
- genial Frenchman. “Ze trouble he is real. It is not safe to-day in Hansi.
- Ze Société of ze Great Eye—ze Lookair—he grow, he <i>fait
- l'exercice</i>, he make ze t'reat. You vill not go to T'ainan, alone. It
- is not right!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey was growing impatient now.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes,” he said, more shortly than he knew. “I will go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have ze arm—ze revolvair?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey shook his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You vill, zen, allow me to give you zis.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Brachey declined the weapon stiffly, said good night, and returned to
- the inn below.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next morning a Chinese servant brought a note from M Pourmont. If he
- would go—thus that gentleman—and if he would not so much as
- carry arms for protection, at least he must be sure to get into touch with
- M. Griggsby Duane at once on arriving at T'ianan. M. Doane was a man of
- strength and address. He would be the only support that M. Brachey could
- look for in that turbulent corner of the world.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he lamp threw a
- flickering unearthly light, faintly yellow, on the tattered wall-hangings
- that bore the Chinese characters signifying happiness and hospitality and
- other genial virtues. The lamp was of early Biblical pattern, nor unlike a
- gravy boat of iron, full of oil or grease, in which the wick floated. It
- stood on the roughly-made table.
- </p>
- <p>
- The inn compound was still, save for the stirring and the steady crunching
- of the horses and mules at their long manger across the courtyard.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey, half undressed, sat on his cot, staring at the shadowy brick
- wall. His face was haggard. There were hollows under the eyes. His hands
- lay, listless, on his knees. The fire that had been for a fortnight
- consuming him was now, for the moment, burnt out.
- </p>
- <p>
- But at least, he now felt, the particular storm was over. That there might
- be recurrences, he recognized. That girl had found her way, through all
- the crust, to his heart. The result had been nearly unbearable while it
- lasted. It had upset his reason; made a fool of him. Here he was—now—less
- than a day's journey from her. He couldn't go back; the thought stirred
- savagely what he thought of as the shreds of his self-respect. And yet to
- go on was, or seemed, unthinkable. The best solution seemed to be merely
- to make use of T'ainan as a stopping place for the night and pass on to
- some other inland city. But this thought carried with it the unnerving
- fear that he would fail to pass on, that he might even communicate with
- her.
- </p>
- <p>
- His life, apparently, was a lie. He had believed since his boyhood that
- human companionship lay apart from the line of his development. Even his
- one or two boy friends he had driven off. The fact embittered his earlier
- life; but it was so. In each instance he had said harsh things that the
- other could not or would not overlook. His marriage had contributed
- further proof. Along with his pitilessly detached judgment of the woman
- went the sharp consciousness that he, too, had failed at it. He couldn't
- adapt his life to the lives of others. Since that experience—these
- four years—by living alone, keeping away, keeping clear out of his
- own land, even out of touch with the white race, and making something of a
- success of it, he had not only proved himself finally, he had even, in a
- measure, justified himself. Yet now, a chance meeting with a
- nineteen-year-old girl had, at a breath, destroyed the laborious structure
- of his life. It all came down to the fact that emotion had at last caught
- him as surely as it had caught the millions of other men—men he had
- despised. He couldn't live now without feeling again that magic touch of
- warmth in his breast. He couldn't go on alone.
- </p>
- <p>
- He bowed his head over it. Round and round went his thoughts, cutting
- deeper and deeper into the tempered metal of his mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- He said to her: “I am selfish.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He had supposed he was telling the simple truth. But clearly he wasn't. At
- this moment, as at every moment since that last night on the boat deck, he
- was as dependent on her as a helpless child. And now he wasn't even
- selfish. These two days since the little talk with M. Pourmont he had been
- stirred deeply by the thought that she was in danger.
- </p>
- <p>
- Over and over, with his almost repelling detachment of mind, he reviewed
- the situation. She might not share his present emotion. Perhaps she had
- recovered quickly from the romantic drift that had caught them on the
- ship. She was a sensitive, expressive little thing; quite possibly the new
- environment had caught her up and changed her, filled her life with fresh
- interest or turned it in a new direction. With this thought was interwoven
- the old bitter belief that no woman could love him. It must have been that
- she was stirred merely by that romantic drift and had endowed him, the
- available man, with the charms that dwelt only in her own fancy. Young
- girls were impressionable; they did that.
- </p>
- <p>
- But suppose—it was excitingly implausible—she hadn't swung
- away from him. What would her missionary folk say to him and his
- predicament? Sooner or later he would be free; but would that clear him
- with these dogmatic persons, with her father? Probably not. And if not,
- wouldn't the fact thrust unhappiness upon her? You could trust these
- professionally religious people, he believed, to make her as unhappy as
- they could—nag at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Suppose, finally, the unthinkable thing, that she—he could hardly
- formulate even the thought; he couldn't have uttered it—loved him.
- What did he know of her? Who was she? What did she know of adult life?
- What were her little day-by-day tastes and impulses, such as make or break
- any human companionship...? And who was he? What right had he to take on
- his shoulders the responsibility for a human life... a delicately joyous
- little life? For that was what it came down to. It came to him, now, like
- a ray of blipdirig light, that he who quickens the soul of a girl must
- carry the burden of that soul to his grave. At times during the night he
- thought wistfully of his freedom, of his pleasant, selfish solitude and
- the inexigent companionship of his work.
- </p>
- <p>
- His suit-case lay on the one chair. He drew it over; got out the huge,
- linen-mounted map of the Chinese Empire that is published by the China
- Inland Mission, and studied the roads about T'ainan. That from the east—his
- present route—swung to the south on emerging from the hills, and
- approached the city nearly from that direction. Here, instead of turning
- up into the city, he could easily enough strike south on the valley road,
- perhaps reaching an apparently sizable village called Hung Chan by night.
- </p>
- <p>
- He decided to do that, and afterward to push southwest. It should be
- possible to find a way out along the rivers tributary to the Yangtse,
- reaching that mighty stream at either Ichang or Hankow. And he would work
- diligently, budding up again the life that had been so quickly and lightly
- overset. At least, for the time. He must try himself out This riding his
- emotions wouldn't do. At some stage of the complicated experience it was
- going to be necessary to stop and think. Of course, if he should find
- after a reasonable time, say a few months, that the emotion persisted, why
- then, with his personal freedom established, he might write Betty, simply
- stating his case.
- </p>
- <p>
- And after all this, on the following afternoon, dusty, tired of body and
- soul, Jonathan Brachey rode straight up to the East Gate of T'ainan-fu.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX—KNOTTED LIVES
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F Brachey had
- approached that East Gate a year later he would have rolled comfortably
- into the city in a rickshaw (which has followed the white man into China)
- along a macadamized road bordered by curbing of concrete from the new
- railway station. But in the spring of 1907 there was no station, no
- pavement, not a rickshaw. The road was a deep-rutted way, dusty in dry
- weather, muddy in wet, bordered by the crumbling shops and dwellings found
- on the outskirts of every Chinese city. A high, bumpy little bridge of
- stone spanned the moat.
- </p>
- <p>
- Over this bridge rode Brachey, in his humble cart, sitting fiat under a
- span of tattered matting, surrounded and backed by his boxes and bales of
- food and water and his personal baggage. John and the cook rode behind on
- mules. The muleteers walked.
- </p>
- <p>
- Under the gate were lounging soldiers, coolies, beggars, and a
- money-changer or two with their bags of silver lumps, their strings of
- copper cash and their balanced scales. Two of the soldiers sprang forward
- and stopped the cart. Despite their ragged uniforms (of a dingy blue, of
- course, like all China, and capped with blue turbans) these were tall,
- alert men. Brachey was rapidly coming to recognize the Northern Chinese as
- a larger, browner, more vigorous type of being than the soft little yellow
- men of the South with whom he had long been familiar in the United States
- as well as in the East. A mure dangerous man, really, this northerner.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey leaned back on his baggage and watched the little encounter
- between his John and the two soldiers. Any such conversation in China is
- likely to take up a good deal of time, with many gestures, much vehemence
- of speech and an 'ncreasing volume of interference from the inevitable
- curious crowd. The cook and the two muleteers joined the argument, Brachey
- had learned before the first evening that this interpreter of his had no
- English beyond the few pidgin phrases common to all speech along the
- coast. And since leaving Shau T'ing it had transpired that the man's
- Tientsin-Peking dialect sounded strange in the ears of Hansi John was now
- in the position of an interpreter who could make headway in neither of the
- languages in which he was supposed to deal. Brachey didn't mind. It kept
- the man still. And he had learned years earlier that the small affairs of
- routine traveling can be managed with but few spoken words. But just now,
- idly watching the little scene, he would have liked to know what it meant.
- </p>
- <p>
- Finally John came to the cart, followed by shouts from the soldiers and
- the crowd.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Card wanchee,” he managed to say.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Card? No savvy,” said Brachey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Card,” John nodded earnestly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey produced his personal card, bearing his name in English and the
- address of a New York club.
- </p>
- <p>
- John studied it anxiously, and then passed it to one of the soldiers. That
- official fingered it; turned it over; discussed it with his fellow.
- Another discussion followed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey now lost interest. He filled and lighted his pipe; then drew from
- a pocket a small leather-bound copy of <i>The Bible in Spain</i>, opened
- at a bookmark, and began reading.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a wanderer after his own heart—George Borrow! An eager
- adventurer, at home in any city of any clime, at ease in any company, a
- fellow with gipsies, bandits, Arabs, Jews of Gibraltar and Greeks of
- Madrid, known from Mogadore to Moscow. Bor-row's missionary employment
- puzzled him as a curious inconsistency; his skill at making much of every
- human contact was, to the misanthropic Brachey, enviable; his genius for
- solitude, his self-sufficiency in every state, whether confined in prison
- at Madrid or traversing alone the dangerous wilderness of Galicia, were to
- Brachey points of fine fellowship. This man needed no wife, no friend. His
- enthusiasm for the new type of human creature or the unfamiliar tongue
- never weakened.
- </p>
- <p>
- The cart jolted, creaking, forward, into the low tunnel that served as a
- gateway through the massive wall. A soldier walked on either hand. Two
- other soldiers walked in the rear. The crowd, increasing every moment,
- trailed off behind. Small boys jeered, even threw bits of dirt and stones,
- one of which struck a soldier and caused a brief diversion.
- </p>
- <p>
- They creaked on through the narrow, crowded streets of the city. A murmur
- ran ahead from shop to shop and corner to corner. Porters, swaying under
- bending bamboo, shuffled along at a surprising pace and crowded past.
- Merchants stood in doorways and puffed at lung pipes with tiny nickel
- bowls as the strange parade went by.
- </p>
- <p>
- Finally it stopped. Two great studded gates swung inward, and the cart
- lurched into the courtyard of an inn.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey appropriated a room, sent John for hot water, and coolly shaved.
- Then he stretched out on the folding cot above its square of matting,
- refilled his pipe and resumed his Borrow.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ithin half an hour
- fresh soldiers appeared, armed with carbines and revolvers, and settled
- themselves comfortably, two of them, by his door; two others taking up a
- position at the compound gate.
- </p>
- <p>
- They brought a letter, in Chinese characters, on red paper in a buff and
- red envelope, which Brachey examined with curiosity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No savvy,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the faithful John, inarticulate from confusion and fright could not
- translate.
- </p>
- <p>
- Between this hour in mid-afternoon and early evening, six of these
- documents were passed in through Brachey's door. With the last one, John
- appeared to see a little light.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Number one policeman wanchee know pidgin belong you,” he explained
- laboriously.
- </p>
- <p>
- That would doubtless mean the police minister. So they wanted to know his
- business! But as matters stood, with no other medium of communication than
- John's patient but bewildered brain, explanation would be difficult.
- Brachey reached for his book and read on. Something would have to happen,
- of course. It really hardly mattered what. He even felt a little relief.
- The authorities might settle his business for him. Pack him off. It would
- be better. M. Pourmont's letter to Griggsby Doane had burned in his pocket
- for two days. It had seemed to press him, like the hand of fate, to
- Betty's very roof. Now, since he had become—the simile rose—a
- passive shuttlecock, a counterplay of fate might prove a way out of his
- dilemma.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had chicken fried in oil for his dinner. And John ransacked the boxes
- for dainties; as if the occasion demanded indulgence.
- </p>
- <p>
- At eight John knocked with shaking hands at his door. It was dark in the
- courtyard, and a soft April rain was falling. Two fresh soldiers stood
- there, each with carbine on back and a lighted paper lantern in band. A
- boy from the inn held two closed umbrellas of oiled paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go now,” said John, out of a dry throat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go what side?” asked Brachey, surveying the little group.
- </p>
- <p>
- John could not answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey compressed his lips; stood there, knocking his pipe against the
- door-post. Then, finally, he put on overcoat and rubber overshoes, took
- one of the umbrellas, and set forth.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey walked a long
- way through twisting, shadowy streets, first a soldier with the boy from
- the inn, then Brachey under his umbrella, then John under another, then
- the second soldier. Dim figures finished past them. Once the quaint waihng
- of stringed instruments floated out over a compound wall. They passed
- through a dark tunnel that must have been one of the city gates; then on
- through other streets.
- </p>
- <p>
- They stopped at a gate house. A door opened, and yellow lamplight fell
- warmly across the way. Brachey found himself stepping up into a structure
- that was and yet was not Chinese. A smiling old gate-keeper received him
- with striking courtesy, and, to his surprise, in English.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you come with me, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- John and the soldiers waited in the gate house.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey followed the old man across a paved court. His pulse quickened.
- Where were they bringing him?
- </p>
- <p>
- Through a window he saw a white woman sitting at a desk, under an American
- lamp.
- </p>
- <p>
- He mounted stone steps, left his coat and hat in a homelike front hall.
- The servant led the way up a flight of carpeted stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the top step, Brachey paused. At the end of the corridor, where a chair
- or two, a table, bookcase, and lamp made a pleasant little lounge, a young
- woman sat quietly reading. She looked up; sat very still, gazing straight
- at him out of a white face. It was Betty. His heart seemed to stop.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then a man stood before him. A little, dusty blond man. They were clasping
- hands. He was ushered rather abruptly into a study. The door closed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little man said something twice. It proved to be, “I am Mr.
- Boatwright,” and he was looking down at the much-thumbed card; Brachey's
- own card.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey was fighting to gather his wits. Why hadn't he spoken to Betty, or
- she to him? Would she wait there to see him? If not, how could he reach
- her?... He must reach her, of course. He knew now that through all his
- confusion of mind and spirit he had come straight to her.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he little man was
- nervous, Brachey observed; even jumpy. He hurried about, drawing down the
- window-shades. Then he sat at a desk and with twitching fingers rolled a
- pencil about. He cleared his throat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You've come in from the railroad?” he asked.... “Yes? Do you bring news?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Brachey coldly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What gossip have your boys picked up along the road, may I ask?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Back and forth, back and forth, his fingers twitched the pencil. Bradley's
- eyes narrowly followed the movement. After a little, he replied:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no information from my boys.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seven years ago”—thus Mr. Boatwright, huskily, “they killed all but
- a few of us. Now the trouble has started again—a similar trouble
- They attacked our station up at So T'ung yesterday. Mr. Doane is on his
- way there now. He left this noon. That is why they referred your case to
- me. Oh. yes, I should have told you—the tao-tai, Chang Chili Ting,
- has asked me to get from you an explanation of your appearance here
- without a passport. But perhaps your card explains. You come simply as a
- journalist?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey bowed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have no connection w ith the Ho Shan Company?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “None”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Chang is taking up your case this evening with the provincial judge, Pao
- Ting Chuan. Pao is to give you an audience to-morrow, I believe, at noon.
- I will act as your interpreter.” Mr. Boatwright paused, and sighed. “I am
- very busy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I regret this intrusion on your time,” said Brachey. It was impossible
- for him to be more than barely courteous to such a man as this.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, that's all right,” Boatwright replied vaguely. “The audience will
- probably be at noon. Then you will come back here with me for tiffin.” He
- sighed again; then went on. “They shot one of Pourmont's white men.
- Through the lungs.... You must have seen Pourmont at Ping Yang, as you
- came through.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I called on him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Didn't he tell you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. He advised against my coming on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course. It's really very difficult. He wants us all to get out, as far
- as his compound. But, you see, our predicament is delicate. Already
- they've attacked one of our outposts. But the trouble may not spread. We
- can't draw in our people and leave at the first sign of difficulty. It
- would be interpreted as weakness not only on our part but on the part of
- all the white governments as well. Mr. Doane, I know”—he said this
- rather regretfully—“would never consent to that.... Mr. Doane is a
- strong man. We shall all breathe a little more easily when he is safely
- back. If he should not get back—well, you will see that I must face
- this situation—-the decision would fall on me. That's why I asked
- you for news. I have to consider the problem from every angle. We have
- other stations about the province and we must plan to draw all our people
- in before we can even consider a general retreat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey heard part of this. He wished the man would keep still: His own
- racing thoughts were with that pale girl in the hall. Was she still there?
- He must plan. He must be prepared with something to say, if they should
- meet face to face.
- </p>
- <p>
- As it turned out, they met on the stairs. Betty was coming up. She paused;
- looked up, then down. The color stole back into her face; flooded it. She
- raised her hand, hesitatingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0179.jpg" alt="0179 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0179.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Brachey heard and felt the surprise of Boatwright, behind him. The little
- man said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey felt the warm little hand in his. It should have been, easy to
- explain their acquaintance; to speak of the ship, ask after the Hasmers.
- In the event, however, it proved impossible, all he could say—he
- heard the dry hard tones issuing from his own lips:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, how do you do! How have you been?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty said, after too long a pause, glancing up momentarily at Mr.
- Boatwright:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Brachey was on the steamer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was odd, that little situation. It might so easily have escaped being a
- situation, had not their own turbulent hearts made it so. But now, of
- course, neither could explain why they hadn't spoke before he went into
- the study. And little, distrait Mr. Boatwright was wide-eyed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The situation passed from mildly bad to a little worse. Betty went on up
- the stairs; and Brachey went down.
- </p>
- <p>
- The casual parting came upon Brachey like a tragedy. It was unthinkable.
- Something personal he must say. On the morrow it might be worse, with a
- whole household crowding about. It was a question if he could face her at
- all, that way. He got to the bottom step; then, with an apparently
- offhand, “I beg your pardon!” brushed past the now openly astonished
- Boatwright and bolted back up the stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty moved a little way along the upper hall; hesitated; glanced back.
- </p>
- <p>
- He spoke, low, in her ear. “I must see you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her head inclined a little.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Once! I must see you once. I can't leave it this way. Then I will go.
- To-morrow—at tiffin—if we can't talk together—you must
- give me some word. A note, perhaps, telling me how I can see you alone.
- There is one thing I must tell you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Please!” she murmured. There were tears in her eyes. They scalded his own
- high-beating heart, those tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will plan it? I am helpless. But I must see you—tell you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He thought her head inclined again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will? You'll give me a note? Oh, promise!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” she whispered; and slipped away into another room.
- </p>
- <p>
- So this is why he had to come to T'ainan-fu—to tell her the
- tremendous news that he would one day be free! And she had promised to
- arrange a meeting!
- </p>
- <p>
- Never in all his cold life had Jonathan Brachey experienced such a thrill
- as followed that soft “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Not a word passed between him and Boatwright until they stood in the gate
- house. Then, for an instant, their eyes met. He had to fight back the
- burning triumph that was in his own. But the little man seemed glad to
- look away; he was even evasive.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'd better be around about half past eleven in the morning,” said he.
- “We'll go to the yamen from here. We must have blue carts and the extra
- servants. Good night.” And again he sighed.
- </p>
- <p>
- That was all. Boatwright let him go like that, back to the dirty,
- dangerous native inn.
- </p>
- <p>
- He fell in behind the leading soldier, holding his umbrella high and
- marching stiffly, like a conqueror, through the sucking mud.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X—GRANITE
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ETTY did not get
- down for breakfast in the morning. And Mrs. Boatwright sent nothing up.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was close upon noon when Betty, sketching portfolio under arm, came
- slowly down the stairs. Mrs. Boatwright, at her desk in the front room,
- glanced up, called:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Betty—just a moment!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The girl stood in the doorway. She looked so slim and small and, even,
- childlike, that the older woman, to whom responsibility for all things and
- persons about her was a habit, knit her heavy brows slightly. What on
- earth were you to do with the child? What had Griggsby Doane been thinking
- of in bringing her out here? Anything, almost, would have been better. And
- just now, of all times!
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would you mind coming in? There's a question or two I'd like to ask you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty paused by a rocking chair of black walnut that was upholstered in
- crimson plush; fingered the crimson fringe. Mrs. Boatwright was marking
- out a geometrical pattern on the back of an envelope; frowning down at it.
- The silence grew heavy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Finally Mrs. Boatwright, never light of hand, rame out with:
- </p>
- <p>
- “This Mr. Brachey—who is he?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty's fringed lids moved swiftly up; dropped again. “He—he's a
- writer, a journalist.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You knew him on the ship?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You knew him pretty well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—saw something of him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know why he came out here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty was silent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should think you would ask him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright considered this. The girl was selfconscious, a little. And
- quietly—very quietly—hostile. Or perhaps merely on the
- defensive.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you do know?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied Betty, with that same very quiet gravity, “I can't say that
- I do. He is studying China, of course. He came from America to do that, I
- understand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you know he was coming out here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty slowly shook her head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you been corresponding with him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Another silence. Then this from Betty, without heat:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't understand why you are asking these questions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you unwilling to answer them?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Such personal questions as that last one—yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have no right to ask it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” Mrs. Boatwright considered. “Hmm!” She controlled her temper and
- framed her next remark with care. This slip of a girl was unexpectedly in
- fiber like Griggsby Doane. There was no weakness in her quiet resistance,
- no yielding. Perhaps she was strong, after all. Though she looked soft
- enough; gentle like her mother. Perhaps, even, she was a person, of
- herself. This was a new thought. Mrs. Boatwright drew a parallelogram,
- then painstakingly shaded the lines.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We mustn't misunderstand each other, Betty,” she said. “In your father's
- absence, I am responsible for you. This man has appeared rather
- mysteriously. His business is not clear. The tao-tai asked Mr. Boatwright
- to look him up, for it seems he hasn't even an interpreter. He has just
- been here. They've gone for an audience with the provincial judge. Mr.
- Boatwright has asked him to come back here for tiffin. Which was rather
- impulsive, I'm afraid....” She paused; started outlining an octagon. “I
- may as well come out with it. Mr. Boatwright told me a little of what
- happened last evening—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of what happened But nothing—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you please! Mr. Boatwright is not a particularly observant man in
- these matters, but he couldn't help seeing that there is something between
- you and this Mr. Brachey.... Now, since you see what is in my mind, will
- you tell me why he is here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- During this speech Betty stopped fingering the crimson fringe. She stood
- motionless, holding the portfolio still against her side. A slow color
- crept into her cheeks. She wouldn't, or couldn't, speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well, if you won't answer that question, will you at least tell me
- something of what you do know about him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know very little about him,” said Betty now, in a low but clear voice,
- without emphasis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must try to make you understand this, my dear. Here the man is. Within
- the hour we are to sit down at tiffin with him. It is growing clearer
- every minute that Mr. Boatwright's suspicion was correct—
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have no right to use that word!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, his surmise, say. There <i>is</i> something between you and
- this man. Don't you think you'd better tell me what it is?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is nothing—nothing at all—that I need tell you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is there nothing that you ought to tell your father?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can not speak for him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I stand in his place, while he's away It is a responsibility I must
- accept. You say you know very little about the man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty bowed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You met him on the ship, by chance?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know any of his friends?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Anything of his past?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty hesitated. Then, as the woman glanced keenly up, she replied:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only what he has told me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you know, even, whether he is a married man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Another long silence fell. Betty stood as quietly as before, looking out
- of frank brown eyes at the sunlit courtyard and the gate house beyond
- where old Sun Shao-i, seated on a stool, was having the inside of his
- eyelids scraped by an itinerant barber.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” Betty replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean—?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that he <i>is</i> married.”
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>etty, as she threw
- out this bit of uncompromising truth, was stirred with a thrill of wilder
- adventure than had hitherto entered her somewhat untrammeled young life.
- The situation had outrun her experience; she was acting on instinct. There
- was a sense of shock, too; and of hurt—hurt that Mrs. Boatwright
- could look, feel, so forbidding. Her firm face, now pressed together from
- chin to forehead, wrinkled across, squinting unutterable suspicions,
- stirred a resistance in Betty's breast that for a little time flared into
- anger.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was no telling what Mrs. Boatwright felt. Her frown even relaxed,
- after a moment. The outbreak of moral superiority that Betty looked for
- didn't come. Instead she said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “How did you learn this?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He told me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, he told you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, he wrote a letter before he—went away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh. he went away!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. He went. Without a word. I didn't know where he was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When was that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When we landed at Shanghai.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hardly three weeks ago. He's here now. Tell me—he wouldn't have
- gone off like that, of course, leaving such an intimate letter, unless a
- pretty definite situation had arisen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty was silent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you tell me what it was?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then—I really have a right to ask this of you—will you give
- me your word not to see him until your father returns, and then not until
- you have laid it before him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Silence again. The fringed lids fluttered. A small hand reached for the
- crimson fringe, slim fingers clung there.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty's thoughts were running away. She felt the situation now as a form
- of torture. That grim experienced woman must be partly right, of course;
- Betty was still so young as to defer mechanically to her elders, and she
- had no great opinion of herself, of her strength of character or her
- judgment. She thought of the boys at home, who had been fond of her. ...
- She thought of Harold Apgar, over there in Korea. He was clean, likable,
- prosperous; and he wanted to marry her. It really would solve her
- problems, could she only feel toward him so much as a faint reflection of
- the glow that Jonathan Brachey had aroused in her. But nothing in her
- nature answered Harold Apgar. For that matter—and this was the
- deeply confusing thing—she could not formulate her feeling for
- Brachey. She couldn't admit that she loved him. The thought of giving her
- life into his keeping—one day, should he come to her with clean
- hands; should he ask—was not to be entertained at all. But she
- couldn't think of him without excitement; and that excitement, last night
- and to-day, was the dominant fact in her life. She had no plans in which
- he figured. She was vaguely bent on forgetting him. During the night she
- had regretted her promise to meet him once more alone. Yet she had given
- that promise. Given the same situation she would—she knew with a
- touch of bewilderment that this was so—promise again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty looked appealingly at Mr. Boatwright. Then, meeting with no
- sympathy, she drew up her little figure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You said he was coming here for tiffin, Mrs. Boatwright?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.” The woman glanced out at the courtyard. “Any moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I shan't come into the dining-room.” And Betty turned to leave the
- room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just a moment! Am I to take that as an answer? Are you promising?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hetty turned; hesitated; then, suddenly, impulsively, came across the
- room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mrs. Boatwright,” she said unsteadily—her eyes were filling—“would
- it do any good for me to talk right out with you? Probably I do need
- advice.” She faltered momentarily, shocked by the expression on that
- nearly square face. “Oh, it isn't a terribly serious situation. It really
- isn't. But that man is honest. He has led an unhappy, solitary life...”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her voice died out.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you said he was <i>married!</i>” cried Mrs. Boatwright explosively.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'But! But!' Child, what are you talking about?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was nothing in Betty's experience of life that could interpret to
- her mind such a point of view as that really held by the woman before her.
- She had no means of knowing that they were speaking across a gulf wider
- and deeper perhaps than has ever before existed between two generations;
- and that each of them, quite unconsciously, was an extreme example of her
- type. She turned again.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a commotion out at the gate house that arrested her this time. She
- felt that curious excitement rising up in her heart and brain. Old Sun was
- springing up from the barber's stool, with his always great dignity
- brushing that public servitor aside. Then Brachey appeared, followed by
- Mr. Boatwright.
- </p>
- <p>
- The wife of that little man now caught the look on Betty's face, the
- sudden light in her eyes, and rose, alarmed, to her feet. Taking in the
- situation, she said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall send something up to your room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty moved her head wanly in the negative. It was no use explaining to
- this woman that she couldn't think of food. She moved slowly toward the
- door. She was unexpectedly tired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where are you going?” asked the older woman shortly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I've got to be by myself,” said Betty, apparently less resentful now. It
- was more a rather faint statement of fact. And she went on out, not so
- much as answering Mrs. Boatwright's final “But you will not promise?” It
- wasn't even certain that she heard.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>rs. Boatwright
- stood thinking. Betty had run up the stairs. The two men were coming
- slowly across the courtyard, talking. Or her husband was talking; she
- could hear his light voice. The other man was silent; a gloomy figure in
- knickerbockers. She studied him. Already he was catalogued in her mind,
- and permanently. For nothing that might happen to present Brachey in
- another light could ever, now, shake her judgment of him. No new evidence
- of ability or integrity in the man or of genuine misfortune in marriage,
- would influence her. No play of sympathy, no tolerant reflectiveness,
- would for a moment occupy her mind. She was a New Englander, with the old
- non-conformist British insistence on conduct and duty bred in her bone.
- Her emotional nature was almost the granite of her native lulls. And she
- was strong as that granite. She feared nothing, shrank from nothing, that
- could be classified as duty. No Latin flexibility ever softened her
- vigorous expression of independent thought. Her duty, now, was clear.
- </p>
- <p>
- She went out into the hall and opened the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two men were just mounting the steps.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear,” began her husband, sensing her mood, glancing up
- apprehensively, “this is Mr. Brachey. He—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said she, standing squarely in the doorway, “I understand. Mr.
- Brachey, I can not receive you in this house. You, of course, know why. I
- must ask you to go at once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she simply waited; commandingly. From her eyes blazed honest,
- invincible anger.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Boatwright caught his breath; stood motionless, very white; finally
- murmured:
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, my dear, I'm sure you...”
- </p>
- <p>
- His wife merely glanced at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey stood as she had caught him, on the steps, one foot above the
- other. His face was expressionless. His eyes fastened on the woman a gaze
- that might have meant no more than cold curiosity, growing slowly into
- contempt. Then, after a moment, as quietly, he turned and descended the
- steps.
- </p>
- <p>
- Boatwright caught his arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Really, Mr. Brachey—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Elmer!” cried his wife shortly. “Let him go!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Brachey had already shaken off the detaining hand. He marched straight
- across the court, stepped into the gate house, and disappeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty, all hurt confusion, had lingered in the second floor hall. At the
- first sound of Mrs. Boatwright's firm voice, she stepped, her brain a
- tangle of little indecisions, to the stair rail.
- </p>
- <p>
- She ran lightly to the front window and watched Jonathan Brachey as he
- walked away. Then she shut herself in her own room, telling herself that
- the time had come to think it all out. But she couldn't think.
- </p>
- <p>
- Against the granite in Mrs. Boatwright Betty, who understood herself not
- at all, had to set a quick strong impulsiveness that was certain, given a
- little time, to work out in positive act. Very little time indeed now
- intervened between impulse and act. She scribbled a note, in pencil:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear Mr. Brachey—I am going out to sketch in the tennis court. You
- can reach it by the little side street just beyond our gate house as you
- come from the city. Please do come!—Betty D.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She went down the stairs again, portfolio under arm, and on to the gate
- house. Sun, as she had thought, knew at which inn the white gentleman was
- stopping, and at Miss Doane's request sent a boy with the chit.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI—EMOTION
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>RACHEY came
- suddenly into view, around the corner of the wall from the little side
- street.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was dressed almost stiffly—not in knickerbockers now, but in what
- would be called at home a business suit, with stiff white collar and a
- soft but correct hat; and he carried a stick—like an Englishman,
- Betty thought, careful to the last of appearances. As if there were no
- such thing as danger; only stability. She might have been back in the
- comfortable New Jersey town and he a casual caller. And then, after taking
- him in, in a quick conflict of moods that left her breathless, she glanced
- hurriedly about. But only the blank compound wall met her gaze, and tile
- roofs, with the chimneys of the higher mission house peeping above
- foliage. The gate was but a narrow opening, near the farther end of the
- tennis court. No one could see. For that matter, it was to be doubted that
- any one in the compound knew she was here. And beyond the little street
- stood another blank wall.... And he had come!
- </p>
- <p>
- She could not know that she seemed very composed as she laid her portfolio
- on the camp stool and rose. Then her hand was in his. Her voice said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was nice of you to come. But—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I asked for a meeting—for one meeting....” Her eyes were down;
- he was set, as for a formal speech.... “It was, as you may imagine,
- because a matter has arisen that seems to me of the greatest importance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She wondered what made him talk like that. As if determined to appeal to
- her mind. She couldn't listen; not with her mind; she was all feeling. He
- was a stranger, this man. Yet she had thought tenderly of him. It was
- difficult.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You didn't come alone?” she asked, unaware that her manner, too, was
- formal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. Oh, yes! I know the way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it isn't safe. When I wrote... I heard what Mrs. Boatwright said. I
- was angry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She was very rude.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It seemed as if I ought to get word to you—after that. I promised,
- of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But your note surprised me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You thought I wouldn't keep my promise?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wasn't sure that you could.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you hadn't heard from me, what would you have done?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should have left T'ainan this afternoon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how could you? Where could you go?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The provincial judge has assigned four soldiers to me. He was most
- courteous. He wants me to publish articles in America and England against
- the Ho Shan Company. He seems a very astute man. And he sent runners to
- the inn just now with presents.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh—what were they?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some old tins of sauerkraut. A German traveler must have left them here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty smiled. Then, sober again, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you should have brought the soldiers with, you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no. I preferred being alone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I don't think you understand. It isn't safe to go about alone now.
- Not if you're a white man. I don't like to think that I've put you in
- danger.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You haven't. It doesn't matter. As I was about to tell you... you must
- understand that I assume no interest on your part—I can't do that,
- of course—but after what happened, that night on the ship...” He was
- ha\ing difficulty with this set speech of his. Betty averted her face to
- hide the warm color that came. Why on earth need he come out with it so
- heavily! Whatever had happened had happened, that was all!... His voice
- was going on. Something about a divorce. He was to be free shortly. He
- said that. He sounded almost cold about it, deliberate. And he had come
- clear out here to T'ainan just to say that. He <i>was</i> assuming, of
- course. To a painful degree. He seemed to feel that he owed it to her to
- make some sort of payment... for kissing her... and the payment,
- apparently, was to be himself. She was moved by a little wave of anger.
- She managed to say:
- </p>
- <p>
- “We won't talk about that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I felt that I must tell you. I'll go now, of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As soon as I am free I shall write you. I will ask you, then, to be my
- wife.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He drew himself up, at this, stiffly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty's blush was a flush now. She gathered up her drawing tilings;
- deliberately arranged the sheets of paper in the portfolio.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall say good-by...
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait,” said Betty, rather shortly, not looking up “You mustn't go like
- this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a long silence. Then, abruptly, he broke out:
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is no way that I can stay. I would bring you only trouble. And it
- will be easier for me to go. Of course, I should never have come. It has
- been very upsetting, I haven't faced it honestly. I wanted to forget you.
- I've been tortured. And then I learned that you were in danger. I—can't
- talk about it!” And he clamped his lips shut.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty opened her portfolio and slowly fingered the sheets of drawing
- paper. Her eyes filled; she had to keep them down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where are you going?” Her voice was no more than a murmur. She said it
- again, a little louder: “Where are you going?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Back to the inn. And then, perhaps—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mustn't leave T'ainan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is the difficulty. I couldn't save myself and leave you here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “On your account, I mean. We're safe enough; I've heard them talking at
- the house. Pao will protect us. And Chang, the tao-tai. But if you were to
- go out alone—on the highway—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, that is nothing. I have soldiers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You said four soldiers. Father was attacked right here in the city, with
- Chang and his body-guard defending him. They even tore Chang's clothes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't care about myself,” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- She glanced up at him. She knew he spoke the truth, however bitter his
- spirit. He was talking on: “Don't misunderstand me....”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This journey has been a time of painful self-revelation. I used to think
- myself strong. That was absurd, of course. I am very weak. In this new
- trouble my will seems to have broken down. Yes, it has broken down; I may
- as well admit it. I had no right to fall in love with you. Already I have
- injured the life of one woman. Now, by merely coming out here in this
- ill-considered way, I am injuring yours.... The worst of it is these
- moments of terrible feeling. They make it impossible for me to reason. At
- one time I can really believe that a fatal accident out here—an
- accident to myself—would be the best thing that could happen for
- everybody concerned: but then, in a moment, I become inflamed with
- feeling, and desire, and a perfectly unreasonable hope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder,” mused Betty, moved now by something near a thrill of power—a
- disturbing sort of power—“if love is like that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know. I don't even know if this is love Part of the time I resent
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!... Well—yes, I can understand that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you resent me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sometimes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In my lucid moments I sec the thing clearly enough. It is simply an
- impossible situation. And I have added the final touch by coming out
- here.” He seated himself on a block of stone, and rested his chin moodily
- on his two hands. “That is what disturbs me—it frightens me. I have
- watched other men and women going through this queer confusion we call
- falling in love. I've pitied them. They were weak, helpless, surrendering
- the reasoning faculty to sheer emotion. Sometimes, I've thought of them as
- creatures caught in a net.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” Betty breathed softly, “I've never thought.. I wonder if it is like
- that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is with me. I see no happiness in it. I hope you will never have to
- live through what I've lived through these past few weeks. And now I sit
- here——weakly—knowing I ought to go at once and never
- disturb you again. But the thought of going—of saying good-by—is
- terrible. It's one more thing I seem unable to face.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty was struggling now against tumultuous thoughts. And without
- overcoming them, without even making headway against them, she spoke:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can't let you take all this on yourself. I must have—well made it
- hard for you, there on the ship. I enjoyed being with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was all she could say about that.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a long, long silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly, with an inarticulate exclamation, he sprang up.
- </p>
- <p>
- Startled, all impulses, she caught his hand. His fingers tightened about
- hers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What?” she asked, breathless.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not away from T'ainan?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. It's the only thing. After all, it doesn't matter much what happens
- to any individual. We've got to take that chance. When my—when I'm—free,
- if I'm alive, and you're alive. I'll write you. I won't come—I'll
- write. Meanwhile, you can make up your mind. All I'll ask of you then is a
- decision. I'll accept it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her fingers were twisting around his. She couldn't look up at him, nor he
- down at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When shall you leave T'ainan?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now—this afternoon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But... don't you see?..
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know what to say.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He knelt beside her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You dear child!” he murmured unsteadily, “can't you see what a trouble
- we're in? It's my fault—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's no more your fault than mine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, but it is! I'm an experienced man. You're a girl. They're right in
- blaming me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “People can't help their feelings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “God, if they could! Don't you see, child, that I can't stay near you? I
- can't look at you—you're so little, so pretty, so charming! When I'm
- with you, all this feeling, all the warm feminine quality, all the
- beautiful magic that's been shut out of my life comes to me through you.
- It drives me crazy.... Betty, God forgive me! I can't help it—this
- once! It's good-by.” He took her lightly, reverently, in his arms, and
- brushed his lips against her forehead. Then he arose.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good-by, Betty!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's too late to start to-day. You can't travel Chinese roads at night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll start early in the morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll—if you—I'll come out here this evening. I think I can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh—Betty!...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It may be a little late. Perhaps about half past eight. They'll all be
- busy then.... Just for a little while.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He considered this. “It's wrong,” he said. “But what's the good of my
- deciding not to come. Of course I will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You came clear to T'ainan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know....”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how about me!” she broke out. “I'm shut in a prison here. You're the
- only friend that's come—the only person I can talk with. Father is
- wonderful, but he's busy and worried, and I'm his daughter, and we can't
- talk much. And you and I—if you're going in the morning—we
- can't leave things—our very lives”—her voice wavered—“like
- this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll come,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And keep the soldiers with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder if it is like a net,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII—STORM CENTER
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>HINA, in its
- vastness, its mystery, its permanence, its ceaseless ebb and flow of
- myriad, uncounted life, suggests the ocean. The surface is restless,
- ripped by universal family discord, whipped by gusts of passion from tong
- or tribe, upheaved by political storms, but everywhere in the unsounded
- depths lies the peace of submissiveness. Within its boundaries breathes
- sufficient power to overwhelm the world, yet only on the self-conscious
- surface is this power sensed and slightly used. Chinese life, in city and
- village, as in the teeming countryside, moves in disorganized poverty
- about its laborious daily tasks, little more aware of the surface
- political currents than are Crustacea at the bottom of the sea of ships
- passing overhead; while to these patient minds the mighty adventure of the
- Western World is no more than a breath upon the waters.
- </p>
- <p>
- This simile found a place among the darker thoughts of Griggsby Doane as
- he tramped down into the fertile valley of the Han. Behind him lay
- tragedy; yet on every hand the farmers were at work upon the narrow
- holdings that terraced the red hills to their summits. At each countryside
- well the half-naked coolies—two, three, or four of them—were
- turning windlasses and emptying buckets of water into stone troughs from
- which trickled little painstakingly measured streams to the sunbaked
- furrow of this or that or another field. The trains of asses anil camels
- wound ceaselessly up and down the road that led from the northern hills to
- T'ainan. The roadside vendors and beggars chanted their wares and their
- grievances. The villages, always indolent, lived on exactly as always,
- stirred only by noisy bargains or other trivial excitement. The naked
- children tumbled about. It w as hard to believe that here could be—had
- so lately been—violence and cruelty. It was simply one of the
- occasions, evidently, when no Lookers or hostile young men happened to be
- about to shout their familiar taunts at the white devil. Though the
- fighting of 1900, for that matter, had passed like a wave, leaving hardly
- more trace. Still more, at dusk, the outskirts of the great city stirred
- perplexing thoughts. The quiet of a Chinese evening was settling on shops
- and homes. Children's voices carried brightly over compound walls. Kites
- flew overhead. The music of stringed instalments floated pleasantly,
- faintly, to the ear.
- </p>
- <p>
- And every quaint sight and sound was registered with a fresh vividness on
- Doane's highly strung nerves. He was tired; might easily, too easily,
- become irritable; a fact he sensed and struggled to guard against. Now, of
- all occasions in his life, he must exercise self-control. Difficult tasks
- lay directly ahead. One would be the talk with Pao Ting Chuan about the So
- T'ung massacre. Pao was, in his Oriental way, friendly; but his way was
- Oriental. It would be necessary to meet him at every evasive turn;
- necessary to read behind every courteous speech of a cultivated and
- charming gentleman the complex motivation of a mandarin skilled in the
- intricate relationships of the Court of Peking. Helping avert trouble was
- one matter; Pao could doubtless, or apparently, be counted on to that
- extent; but assuming full responsibility for the taking of white life and
- the destruction of white man's property, was a vastly more complicated
- matter. No other sort of human creature is so skilful at evading
- responsibility as the Chinaman; this, perhaps, because responsibility,
- once accepted, is, under the Chinese tradition and system, inescapable....
- Another task, of course, would be the telling Boatwright of his personal
- disaster. It still seemed better to do this before the news could drift
- around in some vulgar, disruptive way from Shanghai. He couldn't plan this
- talk, not yet; but a way would doubtless present itself. He stood before
- his God, in his own strong heart, convicted of sin. There had been
- moments, during the tramp southward, when he found himself welcoming this
- nearly public self-arraignment with a bitter eagerness. But at such
- moments pictures of Betty rose in his mind, and of the gentle beautiful
- wife of his youth—wistful, delicately traced pictures.
- </p>
- <p>
- His face would change then; the lines would deepen and a look of torment,
- of wild hurt animal strength that was new, would appear in and about his
- deep-shaded eyes.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s he drew near the
- mission compound his stride shortened and slowed. Once he stopped, and for
- a brief bme stood motionless, not heeding the curious Chinese who passed
- (dim figures with soft-padded shoes), his lips drawn tightly together over
- nervous mutterings that nearly, once or twice, came out as sounds. He was
- not a man who talks out overwrought feelings on the public way. The
- tendency alarmed him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He came deliberately into the gate house. Here, talking in some excitement
- with old Sun, were four or five of the servants.
- </p>
- <p>
- He paused to ask what was the matter. To take hold again, to step so
- quickly into his position as head of the compound, brought a sense of
- relief. That would be habit functioning. A moment later, his confusion was
- deeper than before; in one of those quick flashes that can illuminate and
- occupy the inner mind while the outer is engaged with the brisk affairs of
- life, he was wondering how soon these men would know what he was, what
- pitiful sort he had overnight become; and what they would think of him,
- they who now obeyed and loved him.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'They told him the gossip of the streets. Those strange soldiers, Lookers,
- from beyond the western mountains, had been coming of late to the yamen of
- old Kang Hsu. Kang, so ran the local story, had reviewed these troops
- within the twelve hours, witnessing their incantations, giving them his
- approval.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane said what little he could to quiet their fears; he even managed a
- rather austere smile; then passed on into the courtyard.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dr. Cassin came slowly down the steps from the dispensary, her keys
- jingling in her hand. She was a spare, competent woman, deeply consecrated
- to her work, but not lacking in kindliness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Mr. Doane!” she said. Then, “How did you find things at So T'ung?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood a moment, looking at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very bad,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not—well—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane inclined his head. “Yes, Jen is gone—and twelve to fifteen
- others. Shot or burned. One helper escaped. I could get word of no others.
- One of Monsieur Pourmont's engineers helped very bravely in the defense,
- but was finally clubbed to death.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Dr. Cassin stood silent; then drew in her breath sharply. The keys
- jingled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” she murmured in a broken voice, “That <i>is</i> bad!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It couldn't be worse. How is it here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well”—she pursed her lips—“I'm afraid we've all been getting
- a little nervous. It's well you're back. We need you. The servants are
- jumpy....”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I gathered that, in the gate house.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder... in the fighting at So T'ung there must have been a good many
- wounded...
- </p>
- <p>
- “Among the attackers, yes; the Lookers themselves, and village rowdies.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was wondering... mightn't it be a good thing for me to go up there and
- take charge?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For the effect it might have on the people, I mean. Wouldn't it help
- restore their confidence in us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Doctor. The people—except the young men—haven't changed.
- Trouble will come wherever the Lookers go. No, your place is here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Once in the mission residence, Doane hurried up the two flights of stairs
- to his own rooms. He met no one; the door of Boatwright's study was
- closed.
- </p>
- <p>
- So they needed him. The strain was shaking their monde a little. It was
- really not surprising, after 1900. But if they needed him it was no time
- to indulge his own emotions. He would have to take hold again, that was
- all; perhaps keep hold, letting the news that was to be to him so evil
- come up as it might. He sighed as he closed his door. Some sort of a scene
- there must be; at least a talk with the Boatwrights about So T'ung and
- about the local problem.... One thing he could do; remove his dusty
- clothing, wash, put on fresh things. It would help a little, just the
- physical refreshment. He went back to the door and locked it.....
- Boatwright would be up, almost certainly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Very shortly came the familiar hesitant tapping. For years the little man
- had made his presence known in that same faintly timid way. It was
- irritating.... Doane called out that he would be down soon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh... all right... thank you!” Thus Boatwright, outside the door. And
- then he moved slowly, uncertainly, down the stairs.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>oatwright was
- sitting idle at his desk, rolling a pencil about. It was an old roll-top
- desk from Michigan via Shanghai. Doane closed the door, quietly, and drew
- up a chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'd better read this.” Boatwright spread a telegram on the desk. “I
- haven't told the others. It came late this afternoon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The message was from Mrs. Nacy, acting dean of the little college at Hung
- Chan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Several hundred Lookers”—it ran—“broke into compound this
- noon and took all our food, slightly injuring cook and helper who
- resisted; they order us to send all girl students home; remain at present
- carousing near compound; very threatening; commander forbids any
- communication with you as they seem to fear you and your influence at
- Judge's yamen, though boasting that Treasurer now rules province and that
- Judge will be fortunate to escape with his life; wish greatly you could be
- here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane, sifting very quietly, shading his eyes with a powerful hand, read
- the message twice; then asked, calmly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you notified Pao?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not yet. Your message came several hours earlier. It seemed wise to wait
- for yuu.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane considered the matter; then reached for red paper, ink pot and
- brush, and wrote, in Chinese, the equivalent of the following note:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg to report that a band of Lookers at So T'ung, assisted by local
- young men, killed Jen Ling Pu and about fourteen others, including white
- engineer named Beggins from compound of Monsieur Pourmont at Ping Yang.
- Considerable property destroyed. Several buildings burned to ground.
- Further, to-day, comes a report of attack on the Mission College at Hung
- Chan, with urgent appeal for help. I am going to Hung Chan at once,
- to-night, and must beg of Your Excellency immediate support from local
- officials and troops. I must further beg to advise Your Excellency that I
- am reporting these unfortunate events to the American Minister at Peking
- by telegraph to-night and to suggest that only the greatest promptness and
- firmness on your part can now avert widespread trouble which threatens to
- bow the head of China once more with shame in the dust.
- </p>
- <p>
- “James Griggsby Doane.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He struck a bell then, and to the servant who entered gave instructions
- regarding the etiquette to be observed in promptly delivering the note at
- the yamen of the provincial judge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am worried, I'll admit, about Kang,” observed Boatwright, when the
- servant had gone. He said this without looking up, rolling the pencil back
- and forth, back and forth. His voice was light and husky.
- </p>
- <p>
- Deane, watching him, felt now that his own task was to forget self
- utterly. It was beginning, even, to seem the pleasantly selfish course.
- The trip down to Hung Chan he welcomed. He would drive himself
- mercilessly; it would be an escaping from his thoughts. Moments had come,
- during the walk from So T'ung, when for the first time in his life he
- understood suicide. So many men fell back on it during the tragic
- disillusionments of middle life. The trouble with suicide, of course, this
- sort, was the element of cowardice. He wasn't beaten. Not yet. At least,
- he had strength left, and physical courage. No, action was the thing. It
- was the sort of contribution he was best fitted to give these helpless,
- frightened people here. As to Betty, he would give to the limits of his
- great strength.
- </p>
- <p>
- And so he answered Boatwright with a manner of calm confidence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Kang is putting up a fight, of course, but Pao will prove too strong for
- him. At least, there's no good in believing anything else, Elmer. It's the
- position we've got to take. I'll get into my walking clothes again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're not going to Hung Chan alone, to-night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. It's the quickest way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't you need sleep—a few hours, at least?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I was too late at So T'ung.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was not your fault.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. Still... I'll go right along.” Doane got up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you could give me a few minutes more there's another matter. I'm
- afraid you'll regard it as rather important. It's—difficult....” And
- then, instead of continuing, he fell to rolling the pencil, and gazing at
- it. His color rose a little.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a light knock at the door. Neither man responded. After a moment
- the door opened a little way, and Mrs. Boatwright looked in.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!...” she exclaimed, then: “How do you do, Mr. Doane!... Elmer, have
- you spoken of that matter?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was just beginning to, my dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright, after a silence, came in and closed the door softly
- behind her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Doane hasn't much time.” Boatwright's voice was low, tremulous.
- “Matters at So Thing are as bad as they could be. And he is going down to
- Hung Chan now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To-night?” asked the wife, rather sharply.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane inclined his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then what are we to do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr Doane,” put in the husband, “has given instructions that we are to
- stay here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh—instructions?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Doane gravely. And he courteously explained: “The situation is
- developing too rapidly for us to get all the others in to T'ainan. And we
- can't desert them. Not yet. You will certainly be safer here than you
- would be on the road. Hung Chan is only eighteen miles. I shall be back
- within twenty-four hours, probably to-morrow evening. Then we will hold a
- conference and decide finally on a course. We may be reduced to demanding
- an escort to Ping Yang, telegraphing the others to save themselves as best
- they can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright soberly considered the problem.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It looks like nineteen hundred all over again,” Boatwright muttered
- huskily, without looking up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Doane, “it won't be the same. The only thing we positively know
- is that history never repeats itself. We'll take it as it comes.” He
- didn't see Mrs. Boatwright's sharp eyes taking him in as he said this.
- “I'll leave you now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just this other matter,” said the wife, more briskly. “I won't keep you
- long. But I don't feel free to handle the situation in my own way, and—well,
- something must be done.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see,” said the husband, “there's a man here—a queer American—he
- turned up—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Elmer!” the wife interrupted, “if you will let me.... It is a man your
- daughter met on the ship coming out, Mr. Doane. Evidently a case of
- infatuation....”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is a journalist—has written works on British administration in
- India, I believe—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Elmer! Please! The fact is, the man has deliberately followed Betty out
- here. There is some understanding between them—something that should
- be got at. The man is married. Betty admits that—she seems to be
- intimately in his confidence. He came rushing out here without so much as
- a passport. Elmer has had to give up a good deal of time to setting him
- right at Pao's yamen. I very properly refused to accept him here as a
- guest, whereupon Hetty got word to him secretly and they have been meeting—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Out in the tennis court!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Last night I found them there myself. I sent him away, and brought Betty
- in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell it all, dear!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will. Mr. Doane must know the facts. The man was kissing her. He
- offered no apology. And Betty was defiant. She seemed then to fear the man
- would not appear again, but in some way she found him this afternoon out
- in the side street. They must have been there together for some time,
- walking back and forth, talking earnestly. I had other things to do, of
- course. I couldn't devote all my time to watching her. And it would seem,
- if she had any normal sense of... I secured a promise then from Betty that
- she would not meet him again until after your return. The man, however,
- would promise nothing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- On few occasions in her intensely busy life had Mrs. Boatwright been so
- voluble. But she was excited and perhaps a little prurient; for to such
- severe self-discipline as hers there are opposite and sometimes equal
- reactions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Something must be done, and at once.” She appeared to be bringing her
- speech to a conclusion. “The man impressed me as persistent and quite
- shameless. He is unquestionably exerting a dangerous power over the girl.
- Even in times like these, I am sure that you, as her father, will feel
- that a strong effort must be made to save her. I needn't speak of the
- whispers that are already loose about the compound.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Through all this, Doane, his face wholly expressionless except for a
- stunned look about the eyes and perhaps a sad settling about the mouth,
- looked quietly from wife to husband and back again. They seemed utter
- strangers, these two. With disconcerting abruptness he discovered that he
- disliked them both.... Another thought that came was of the scene of
- desolation he had left at So T'ung. After that, what mattered, what little
- human thing! Then it occurred to his dazed mind that this wouldn't do.
- Suddenly he could see Betty—her charm and grace, her bright pretty
- ways, with his inner eye; and again his spirit was tom and tortured as all
- during the night, back there in the hills. If only he could recall the
- prayers that used to rise so easily and earnestly from his eager heart!
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is she now?” he asked, outwardly so calm as to stir resentment in
- the woman before him. She replied, acidly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “In her room. If she hasn't slipped out again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She promised, I believe you said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was uttered so quietly that a slow moment passed before it reached
- home. Then Mrs. Boatwright replied, with less emphasis:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. She promised.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And where is the man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At an inn, somewhere inside the walls. Sun would know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is his name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Boatwright fumbled among the papers on his desk, and found a card which he
- passed over.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane looked thoughtfully at it, then slipped it into a pocket; said,
- quiet, deathly sober, “You may look for me sometime to-morrow night. We
- will make our final arrangements then. Meantime you had all better get
- what rest you can.” Then he left the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Husband and wife looked at each other. The man's lids drooped first. He
- began rolling the pencil. Finally he said, listlessly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Probably it would be wise to sort out these papers—get the letters
- and reports straight. If we should go, there wouldn't be much time for
- packing.”
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>oane went directly
- to Betty's door, and knocked. She came at once, in her pretty kimono;
- peeped out at him; cried softly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Dad! You're safe!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, dear. I have one more trip, a short one. It will be all I can do.
- To-morrow night I'll be back for good. Take care of yourself, little
- girl.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes—oh, yes! But I shall worry about you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. Never worry. I'll be back.”
- </p>
- <p>
- That seemed to be all he could say. She, too, was still. The silence
- lengthened, grew into a conscious thing in his mind anti hers. Finally he
- took a hesitating backward step.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must be off, dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dad—wait!” She stood erect, her head drawn back, looking directly
- at him out of curiously bright eyes. Her abundant hair flowed down about
- her shoulders... But he thought of her eyes. They were frank, brave, and
- very young and eager and bright. Somewhere within her slim little frame
- she had a store of fine young courage; he knew it now, and felt a thrill
- that was at once hope and pain. He had to fight back tears.... She was
- going to tell him. Yes, she was plunging wonderfully into it:
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's one thing, Dad! I'm sorry—I oughtn't to make you think of
- other things now. But if we could only have a little talk....”
- </p>
- <p>
- He managed to say:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only a day more, dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. I suppose we should wait... though...” He stepped forward, drew her
- to him, and in an uprush of exquisite tenderness kissed her forehead;
- then, with an odd little sound that might almost have been a sob, he
- rushed off, descended the stairs, and went out the front door.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the window she saw his dim figure crossing the court. At the gate
- house he paused and called aloud.
- </p>
- <p>
- Two of the servants came; she could see their quaintly colored paper
- lanterns bobbing about. One of them went into the gate house and came out
- again. He was struggling with something. She strained her eyes against the
- glass. Oh. yes—he was getting into his long coat; that was all.
- Apparently he went out, this man, with her father.... The other colored
- lantern bobbed back into the gate house, and the compound settled again
- into calm.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane, though he could not talk with his daughter, could talk directly and
- bluntly to the man named Brachey, who had rushed out here incontinent
- after her He knew this; was alive with a slow swelling anger that came to
- him as a perverse sort of blessing after the cumulative emotional torment
- of the past three days.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII—THE PLEDGE
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N the morning of
- that same day—while Griggsby Doane was striding down the mountain
- road from So T'ung to T'ainan-fu—Jonathan Brachey sat in his room at
- the inn trying to read, trying to write, counting the minutes until two
- o'clock at which hour Betty would be waiting in the tennis court, when
- John slipped in with a small white card bearing the printed legend, in
- English:
- </p>
- <h3>
- <i>MR. PO</i>
- </h3>
- <p>
- <i>Interpreter and Secretary</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Yamen of His Excellency the Provincial Judge T'ainan-fu</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Po proved to be a tall, slim, rather elegant young man in conventional
- plain robe, black skull-cap and large spectacles, who met Brachey's stiff
- greeting with a broad smile and a wholly Western grip of the hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How d' do!” he said eagerly: “How d' do!” Then he glanced about at the
- two worn old chairs, the crumbling walls of the sun-dried brick with their
- soiled, ragged motto scrolls, the dirty matting on the <i>kang</i>, and
- slowly shook his head. “You're not comfortable as all get-out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- If there was in Mr. Po's speech a softness of intonation and a faint
- difficulty with the <i>r's</i> and <i>l's</i>, the faults were not so
- marked as to demand changes of spelling in setting it down. He accepted a
- cigarette. Brachey lighted his pipe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are quite at home in English,” remarked Brachey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! English is my professional matter in hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have lived abroad?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no! But at Tientsin Anglo-Chinese College, I made consumption largely
- of midnight oil. And among English people society I have broken the ice.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey settled back in the angular chair; pulled at his pipe; thought.
- The man was here for a purpose, of course. But from that slightly eager
- manner, it seemed reasonable to infer that among his motives was a desire
- to practise and exhibit his English, a curious mixture of book phrases and
- coast slang, with here and there the Chinese sentence-structure showing
- through. And he offered an opportunity to study the local problem that
- Brachey mentally leaped at.
- </p>
- <p>
- So these two fell into chat, the smiling young Chinese gentleman and the
- austere Westerner. Mr. Po, speaking easily, without emphasis, his casual
- manner suggesting that nothing mattered much—not old or new, life or
- death—revealed, through the words he so lightly used, stirring
- enthusiasms. And Brachey observed him through narrowed eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here, thought the journalist, before him, smoking a cigarette, sat modern
- China; in robe and queue, speaking of the future but ridden by the past;
- using strong words but with no fire, no urge or glow in the voice; as if
- eager to hope without the substance of hope; at once age and youth,
- smiling down the weary centuries at himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It has been expressed to me that you are literature man.” Thus Mr. Po.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey's head moved downward.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is quite wonderful. If you will tell me the names of certain of your
- books I will give myself great delight in reading them. I read English
- like the devil—all the time. I'm crazy about Emerson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey led him on. They talked of Russia and England, of the new railways
- in China, of truculent Japan, of Edison, much of Roosevelt. Mr. Po
- suggested a walk; and they mounted the city wall, sat on the parapet and
- talked on; the Chinaman always smiling, nerveless, his calm, easily
- flowing voice without body or emphasis. Brachey finally succeeded in
- guiding the man to his own topic, China.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It puzzles and bewilders,” said Mr. Po. “China must leap like grasshopper
- over the many centuries. To railways one may turn for beneficent
- assistance. And also to missionaries.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm surprised to hear you say that. I supposed all China was opposed to
- the missionaries.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not dwell at present time upon their religion practises. That may be
- all to the good—I can not say. But the domicle of each and every
- missionary may be termed civilization propaganda center. Here are found
- books, medicines, lamps. Your eyes have discerned enveloping gloom of
- Chinese cities by night. Think, I beg of you, what difference it will be
- when illumination brightens all. Our people do not like these things, it
- is true. They descend avidly into superstitions. They make a hell of a
- fuss. But that fuss is growing pain. China must grow, though suffering
- accumulate and dismay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come to think of it,” mused Brachey aloud, “superstition isn't stopping
- the railroads.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Po snapped his fingers, smilingly. “A fig and thistle for
- superstition!” he remarked. “Take good look at the railways! What
- happened? In every field of China, as you know, stand grave mounds of
- honorable ancestral worshiping. It will break heart of China to desecrate
- those grave mounds. It will bring down untold misery upon ancestors. But
- when they build Hankow-Peking Rahway, very slick speculator employed
- observation upon surveyors and purchased up claims against railway for
- bringing misery upon ancestors and sold them to railway company at
- handsome profit to himself. And, sir, do you know what it set back company
- to desecrate ancestors of China? It set back twelve dollars per ancestor.
- And that slick speculator he is now millionaire. He erects imposing house
- at Shanghai and elaborates dinners to white merchants. It is said that he
- will soon be compradore and partner in most pretentious English Hong....
- No, the superstition will have to go. It will go like the chaff.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But this big change will take a little time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Time? Oh, yes, of course! But what is time to China! A few centuries!
- They are nothing!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A few centuries are something to me,” observed Brachey dryly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! And to me. That is different. There are times to come of running
- to and fro and hubbub. It is not easy to adjust.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is not,” said Brachey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For myself, I would like to get away. I have observed with too great
- width customs of white peoples, I have perused with too diligent attention
- many English books as well as those of French and German authorship, to
- find contentment in Chinese habit ways. I would appreciate to voyage
- freely to America. If I might ask, is not there an exception made under
- so-called Chinese Exclusion Act in instance of attentive student and
- gentleman who finds himself by no means dependent upon finance
- arrangements of certain others?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I really don't know,” said Brachey. “You'd have to talk with somebody up
- at the legation about that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But up at legation somebodies make always assumption never to know a darn
- thing about anything.” Mr Po laughed easily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have employed great thought concerning this topic,” he went on, with
- mounting assurance. “It is here and now time of beginning upset in Hansi,
- as perhaps as well in all China. At topmost pinnacle of Old Order here
- stands Kang, the treasurer. It can not, indeed, be said that for ennobling
- ideas of New Order he cares much of a damn. And he is miserably jealous of
- His Excellency, Pao Ting Chuan. But Pao is very strong. Sooner or later he
- will pin upon Kang defeat humiliation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You feel sure Pao will be able to do that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! Pao is cat, Kang is mouse.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hmm!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes indeed! But it is nothing to me. Nothing in world! I have laid before
- His Excellency desires of my heart. He expresses willing courtesy. If I
- may make voyage freely he will make best of it. And not unlike myself he
- has perceived half-notion that if I turn to you for wisdom advice you will
- not turn cold shoulder and throw me down.” Catching the opposition behind
- Brachey's slightly knit brows, he added hastily, “I have no need. That is
- to say, I'm not broke. And—with this thought plan I have made
- transferrence of certain monies to Hongkong Bank at Shanghai where no
- revolution or hell of a row can snatch it from my outstretched hands. With
- but a nod from your head, sir, and also with permission of His Excellency,
- I could make sneak out of province as your servant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey, after some thought, said he would take the proposal under
- consideration.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the walk back to the inn he contrived to hold the interpreter's
- chatter closely to the ferment in the province.
- </p>
- <p>
- Kang, it appeared, was openly backing the Lookers now. His yamen enclosure
- swarmed with ragged soldiers from the West who foraged among the shops for
- food and trinkets, and beat or shot the inoffensive Chinese merchants by
- way of emphasizing rather casually their privileged status in the capital
- city. Down the river, near Hung Chan, a more considerable concentration of
- the strange troops was taking place. Hung Chan was also the rendezvous for
- the local young men who had been initiated into the Looker bands. Rumors
- were flying of a general massacre to come of the white and secondary (or
- native) Christians. There was even talk of a political alliance with the
- organizers of rebellion in the South against the Imperial Manchu
- Government and of a triumphant march to the coast. A phrase that might be
- translated as “China for the Chinese” had come into circulation.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey grew more and more thoughtful as he listened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If Pao is so strong, why does he permit matters to go so far?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Po laughed. “His Excellency will in his own good time get move on
- himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hmm!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only yesterday I myself was pinched on street by Western soldiers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pinched?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seized and arrested. Taken up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey raised his eyebrows; but Mr Po smiled easily on.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! They called me secondary Christian. They ran me in before low
- woman, a courtesan. They have told Kang that this courtesan is
- second-sighted.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Clairvoyant?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, that is now firm belief of Kang on mere say-so of cheap skates. This
- courtesan has been conveyed to treasurer's yamen where with eunuchs and
- concubines to attend and soldiers to stand sentry-go she now holds forth
- to beat the Dutch. All perfectly absurd!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And this creature sat in judgment over you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! Not a day since.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What was her decision?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again that easy laugh. “Oh, she decree that I am to kick bucket.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Execute you, eh? You take it lightly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is nothing. I will tell you. In companionship with me was my bosom
- friend, Chili T'ang, who is third son of well-known censor of Peking,
- Chili Chang Pu. It was Chih who got hustle on to yamen of His Excellency—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By His Excellency you mean Pao?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In every instance, if you please! Well, like a shot His Excellency acted
- in my behalf. In person and with full retinue grandeur panoply he set
- forth to pay visit to old rascal Kang, carrying as gift of utmost personal
- esteem ancient ring for thumb of jade that Kang had long made goo-goo eyes
- at. And he asked of Kang as favor mark to himself that he be let known
- instanter, right away, if any of soldiers from his yamen should behave
- with unpleasantness toward new soldiers of Kang, for new soldiers of Kang
- had come to T'ainan-fu out of far country and not unnaturally felt
- homesick and were not in each instance in step with customs of our city.
- And he made explanation as well that he would instruct his secretary, Po
- Sui-an, to bring news quicker than Johnny get your gun if his own soldiers
- should act up freshly or become stench in the nostrils.... Well, you see,
- sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not quite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I am Po Sui-an! It was rebuke like ton of brick, falling on all but
- face of old Kang. It has been insisted to me that Kang trembled like
- swaying aspen reed as he made high sign to attendant mandarins. And then
- His Excellency set forth that I had just stepped out on brief journey but
- would shortly be back and that he would then instruct me with determined
- vigor.... Such is His Excellency, a statesman of stiff upper lip. A most
- wise guy! Thus he served notice on that old reprobate that he will strike
- when iron is hot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They released you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At once. On return of His Excellency, to his yamen. There was I, slick as
- whistle!”,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very interesting. But if Kang continues to bring in soldiers from the
- West, how is Pao going to strike with any hope of success? Is he, too,
- marshaling an army?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no! But you see, I come to call upon you, with you I walk freely
- about streets. At Kang I thumb my nose and tell him go chase himself. Pao
- will protect myself and you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But as I understand it, Kang officially ranks Pao.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! But that is nothing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It looks like a little something to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no! I will ask you for brief moment to glance sidelong at Forbidden
- City of Peking. There during long devil of a while Eastern Empress
- officially ranked Western Empress, but I would call your attention to
- insignificant matter that it was not Western Empress—she whom you
- dub Empress Dowager—that turned up her toes most opportunely to
- daisies.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I see! Then it is believed that the Empress Dowager had the Eastern
- Empress killed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You could not ask that she neglect wholly her fences.”.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.... no, I suppose you couldn't ask that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is great woman. She will not permit that another person put her on
- the blink. It is so with His Excellency. A dam' big man! We shall see!”...
- He hesitated, smiling a thought more eagerly than before. They had reached
- the gate of the inn compound. His quick eye had caught increasing signs of
- preoccupation in Brachey's manner. Finally, laughing again, he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “'There is one other little bagatelle. An utter absurdity! I have made
- preparation for lecture in English about China. Name of it is 'Pigtail and
- Chop-stick.' When I read it at college I must say they held sides and
- shook like jelly bowl. On that occasion it was made plain to me by men of
- thought that it is peach of a lecture. It's a scream.” His laugh indicated
- now an apologetic self-consciousness. “It was said that in America my
- lecture would be knockout, that Chinaman treading with humor the lyceum
- would make novelty excitement. Indeed, by gentleman of Customs
- Administration this was handed me....” He fumbled inside his gown, finally
- producing a frayed bit of ruled paper, evidently torn from a pocket
- note-book, on which was written in pencil: “Try the J. B. Pond Lyceum
- Bureau, New York City.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Since it was expressed to me,” he hurried to add, “that American
- journalist notability was in our midst, I have amused myself with fool
- thought that you would run eyes over it and let me have worst of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would be a pleasure,” said Brachey, civilly enough but with
- considerable dismissive force, extending his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- So, Mr. Po, smiling but something crestfallen, sauntered away.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t ten o'clock that
- night Brachey sat in the angular chair, his <i>Bible in Spain</i> lying
- open on his knees, his weary face deeply shadowed and yellow-gray in the
- flickering light of the native lamp on the table beside him.
- </p>
- <p>
- John tapped at the door; came softly in; stood, holding the door to behind
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?” cried Brachey irritably. “Well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Man wanchee see you. Can do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Man?... What man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No savvy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “China man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No China man. White man. Too big.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey sprang up; dropped his book on the table with a bang; brushed John
- aside and opened the door. The only light out there came slanting down
- from a brilliant moon. Dimly outlined as shadowy masses were the now
- familiar objects of the inn courtyard—the row of pack-saddles over
- by the stable, the darkly moving heads of the horses ami mules behind the
- long manger, the two millstones on their rough standard; above these the
- roofs of curving tile and a glimpse of young foliage. Then, after a
- moment, he sensed movement and peered across, beyond the stable, toward
- the street gates. A man was approaching; a huge figure of a man, six feet
- five or six inches in height, broad of shoulder, firm of tread; stood now
- before him. He carried something like a soldier's pack on his back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why did you come here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey on the door-step found his eyes level with those of his caller.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Brachcy?” The voice had the ring of power in it. Brachey's nerves
- tightened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am Mr. Doane.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you please come in?”
- </p>
- <p>
- John slipped away. Doane entered; moved to the table; turned. Brachey
- closed the door and faced him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will perhaps wish to take off your pack,” he said, with bare
- civility.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane disposed of this remark with a jerk of his head. “I have very little
- time to waste on you,” he said bruskly. “What are you doing in T'ainan?
- Why did you come here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0231.jpg" alt="0231 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0231.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- There was a long silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well, if you won't answer.”... Doane's voice rasped.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey raised his hand. “I was considering your question,” he broke in
- coldly. “While it is not the whole truth, it will probably save time to
- say that I came to see your daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He would have liked to express in his voice some thing of the desperate
- tenderness that he felt. The experiences of the preceding evening and of
- the afternoon just past—the glimpses he had had into the heart of a
- girl, his little storms of anger against Mrs. Boatwright and all her kind,
- followed in each instance by other little storms of anger against himself—had
- finally swept him from the last rational mooring place out into the
- bottomless, boundless sea of emotion. He had found himself, already
- to-night, a storm-tossed soul without compass or bearings or rudder. He
- burned to see Betty again. It had taken all that was left of his will to
- keep from charging out once more across the city, out through the wall, to
- the mission compound. He was shaken, humbled, frightened. To such a nature
- as Brachey's—stubbornly aloof from human contacts, sensitively
- self-sufficient—this was really a terrible experience. It was the
- worst storm of his life. He felt—had felt at times during the
- evening, as he tried to brace himself for this scene that he knew had to
- come within the twenty-four hours—something near tenderness for the
- man who was Betty's father. There were even moments when he looked forward
- to the meeting with the hope that through the father's feelings he might
- be helped in finding his lost self.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had tried, sitting among the shadows, to build up a picture of the man.
- Several of these he had constructed, to meet each of which he felt he
- could hold himself in a mental attitude of frankness and even sympathy.
- But each of these pictures was but an elaboration of familiar missionary
- types. All were what he considered—or once had considered—weak,
- or over-earnest to the borders of fanaticism, or cautious little men, or
- narrow formalists... men like Boatwright And without realizing, it, too,
- he had counted on either real or counterfeited Christian forbearance. The
- only thing he had feared might come up to disturb him was intolerance,
- like that of Boatwright's wife.
- </p>
- <p>
- With that, of course, you couldn't reason, couldn't talk at all.... What
- he really wanted to do, burned to do, was to tell the exact truth. He had
- passed the point where he could give Betty up; he would have to fight for
- her now, whatever happened. His one great fear had been that Betty's
- father would be incapable of entertaining the truth dispassionately,
- fairly.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the actual Doane cleared his over-charged brain as a mountain storm
- will clear murky air. Here was a giant of a man who meant business. Back
- of that strong face, back of the deep voice, Brachey felt a pressure of
- anger. It was not Christian forbearance; it was vigor and something more;
- something that perhaps, probably, would come out before they were through
- with each other. There was a restless power in the man, a wild animal
- pacing there behind the slightly clouded eyes. Even in the blinding fire
- of his own love for Betty he could look out momentarily and see or feel
- that this giant was burning too. And what he saw or felt, turned his heart
- to ice and his brain to tempered metal. Sympathy would have reached
- Brachey this night; weakness, blundering, might have reached him. But now,
- of all occasions, he would not be intimidated.. .. He felt the change
- coming over him, dreaded it, even resisted it; but was powerless to check
- it. The man proposed to beat him down. No one had ever yet done that to
- Jonathan Brachey. And so, though he tried to speak with simple frankness
- in saying, “I came to see your daughter,” the words came out coldly,
- tinged with defiance, between set lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- It might easily mean a fight of some sort, Brachey reflected. This
- mountain of a man could crush him, of course. Primitive emotion charged
- the air as each deliberately stud'ed the other.... It would hardly matter
- if he should be crushed. There were no police in T'airan to protect white
- men from each other. His wife would be relieved; a queer, bitter sob rose
- part way in his throat at the thought. There was no one else... save
- Betty. Betty would care! And this man was her father! It was terrible....
- He was struggling now to attain a humility his austere life had never
- known; if only he could trample down his savage pride, hear the man out,
- swallow every insult! But in this struggle, at first, he failed. Like a
- soldier he faced the huge fighting man with a pack on his back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You knew my daughter on the steamer?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before that—in America?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is something between you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are a married man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane, his face working a very little, his arms stiff and straight at his
- sides, came a step nearer. Brachey lifted his chin and stared up the more
- directly at him. “You seem to have a little honesty, at least.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am honest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How far has this gone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey was silent.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane took another step.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why don't I kill you?” he breathed.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was then that Brachey first caught the full force of Doane's emotional
- torment. To say that he did not flinch, inwardly, would be untrue; but all
- that Doane saw was a slight hesitation before the cold reply came: “I can
- not answer that question.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can answer the other. How far has this gone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey again clamped his lips shut. The situation, to him, had become
- inexplicable.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you answer?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane's eyes blazed down wildly. And Doane's voice broke through the
- restraint he had put upon it as he cried:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you harmed my little girl?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey was still.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Answer me!” Doane's great hand came down on his shoulder. “Have you
- harmed her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey's body trembled under that hand; he was fighting himself, fighting
- the impulse to strike with his fists, to seize the lamp, a chair, his
- walking stick; he held his breath; he could have tossed a coin for his
- life; but then, wandering like a little lost breeze among his bitter
- thoughts, came a beginning perception of the anguish in this father's
- heart. It confused him, softened him. His own voice was unsteady as he
- replied: “Not in the sense you mean.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In what sense, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey broke away. Doane moved heavily after him, but stopped short when
- the slighter man dropped wearily into a chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm not going to attack you,” said Brachey, “but for God's sake sit
- down!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What did you mean by that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Simply this.” Brachey's head dropped on his hand; he stared at the floor
- of rough tiles. “I love her. She knows it. She even seems to return it. I
- have roused deep feelings in her. Perhaps in doing that I have harmed her.
- I can't say.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is that all? You are telling me everything?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane walked across the room; came back; looked down at Brachey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know how such men as you are regarded, of course?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.... Oh, perhaps!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will leave T'ainan, of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is no question about that. You will leave.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's one question—a man dislikes to leave the woman he loves in
- actual danger.”
- </p>
- <p>
- An expression of bewilderment passed across Duane's face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You admit that you are married?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yet you speak as my daughter's lover. Does the fact of your marriage mean
- nothing to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing whatever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you are planning to fall back on the divorce court, perhaps?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.” Brachey's head came up then. “Does love mean nothing to you?” he
- cried. “In your narrow, hard missionary heart is there no sympathy for the
- emotions that seize on a man and a woman and break their wills and shake
- them into submission?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Looking up, he saw the color surge into Doane's face. Anger rose there
- again. The man seemed desperate, bitter. There was no way, apparently, to
- handle him; he was a new sort.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane crossed the room again; came back to the middle. He seemed to be
- biting his lip.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll have no more words from you,” he suddenly cried out. “You'll go in
- the morning! I'll have to take your word that you won't communicate with
- Betty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, my God, I can't just save myself—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It may not be so safe for you or any of us. Will you go?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh... yes!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will not try to see Betty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not to-morrow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor after.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey sprang up; leaned against the table; pushed the lamp away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do I know what I shall do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you do!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. You will do as I say. You are never to communicate with her again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey thought. “I'll say this: I'll undertake not to. If I can't endure
- it, I'll tell you first.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can endure it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you don't understand! It's a terrible thing! Do you think I wanted to
- come out here? I meant not to. But I couldn't stand it. I came. Is it
- nothing that I told her of my marriage with the deliberate purpose of
- frightening her away? But she is afraid of nothing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—she is not afraid.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I tell you, I've been torn all to pieces. Good God, if I hadn't been, and
- if you weren't her father, do you think I'd have stood here to-night and
- let you say these things to me! Oh, you would beat me; likely enough you'd
- kill me; but that's nothing. That would be easy—except for Betty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no time for heroics,” said Doane. “Have I your promise that you
- will leave in the morning, without a word to her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am going to Hung Chan. There are more important issues now than your
- life or mine. I shall be back to-morrow night and shall know then if you
- have failed to keep your word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shan't fail.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well! A word more. You are not to stop at Ping Yang on your way
- cut.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For a night only. Then go on. Go out of the province. Go back to the
- coast. Is that understood?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey inclined his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have your promise?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well. Good night, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane turned to the door. But then he hesitated, turned, hesitated again,
- finally came straight over and thrust out his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey, to his own amazement, took it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV—DILEMMA
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN DOANE had gone
- Brachey called John and ordered a mule litter for eight n the morning.
- John found ont of the soldiers among the lounging group by the gate. The
- soldier slipped out.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey busied himself until midnight in packing his bags. He felt that he
- couldn't sleep; most of the later night was spent in alternately walking
- the floor and trying to read. Before dawn the lamp burned out; and he lay
- down in his clothes and for a few hours dreamed wildly.
- </p>
- <p>
- At eight the spike-studded gates swung open and an Oriental cavalcade
- filed into the court. There was the litter, like a sedan chair but much
- larger, swung on poles between two mules; the sides covered with red
- cloth, the small swinging doors in blue; bells jingling about the necks of
- the mules. There were five or six other mules and asses, each hearing a
- wooden pack-saddle. There was a shaggy Manchurian pony for Brachey to ride
- in clear weather. Three muleteers, two men and a boy, marched beside the
- animals; hardy ragged fellows, already, or perhaps always, caked with
- dirt.
- </p>
- <p>
- At once the usual confusion and noise began. Men of the inn crowded about
- to help pack the boxes and bags of food and water and clothing on the
- saddles. The mules plunged and kicked. A rope broke and had to be
- elaborately repaired. The four soldiers brought out their white ponies,
- saddled them, slung their carbines over their shoulders; they were
- handsome men, not so ragged, in faded blue uniforms of baggy Chinese cut,
- blue half-leggings, blue turbans. Into the litter went Brachey's mattress
- and pillow. He tossed in after them camera, note-book, and <i>The Bible in
- Spain;</i> then mounted his savage little pony, which for a moment plunged
- about among the pack animals, starting the confusion anew.
- </p>
- <p>
- The cook mounted one of the pack-saddles, perching himself high on a bale,
- his feet on the neck of the mule. John was about to mount another, when
- the leading soldier handed him a letter which he brought at once to his
- master.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey with bounding pulse looked at the envelope. But the address,
- “Mister J. Brachey, Esquire,” was not in Betty's brisk little hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- He tore it open, and read as follows:
- </p>
- <p>
- “My Dear Sir—Taking Time touch and go by the forelock it becomes
- privileged duty to advise you to wit:
- </p>
- <p>
- “So-called Lookers and Western soldiers of that ilk have attacked mission
- college Hung Chan with crop up outcome that these unpleasant fellow's go
- the limit in violence. By telegraph officer of devotion to His Excellency
- this morning very early passes the tip that that mission college stands
- longer not a whit upon earth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Looker soldiers acting under thumb of man mentioned during our little
- chin-chin of yesterday forenoon plan within twenty-four hours advance on
- T'ain-an-fu cutting off city from Eastern access and then resting on oars,
- jolly well taking their time to destroy mission here and secondary
- Christians, making clean job of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Officer of devotion reports further of old reprobate plan that larger
- army has become nearly ready to march full tilt and devil take the
- hindmost on Ping Yang engineer compound fort and lay axe to root of it.
- Railroad and bridges and all works of white hands will go way of wrack and
- ruin except telegraph, that being offspring of Imperial Government.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, my dear sir, as Ping Yang is place of some strength and come on
- if you dare, I would respectfully recommend that you engage at once in
- forlorn hope and make journey post haste to Ping Yang, as we sit on kegs
- of gun powder with ground slipping out from under us as hour-glass runs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Regretting in great heaviness and sadness of heart that civilization sees
- no longer light of day in Hansi Province, I beg to remain, my Dear Sir,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yours most respectfully,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Po Sui-an.
- </p>
- <p>
- “P. S. In my busy as bee excitement I have neglected to kill two birds
- with one stone, and inform you that Rev. Doane of this city met death
- bravely at 3 a.m. to-day at Hung Chan Northern Gate.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Po.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The cavalcade was ready now in line. At the head two soldiers sat their
- ponies. The gay litter came next, bells jingling as the mules stirred.
- Behind the litter stood the pack animals, with John and the cook mounted
- precariously on the first two. The other two soldiers brought up the rear.
- The muleteers stood lazily by, waiting.... Brachey slipped Mr. Po's letter
- into a pocket and gazed up at the smoke that curled lazily from the
- chimney of the innkeeper's house. The pony, restless to be off, plunged a
- little; Brachey quieted him without so much as looking down.... After a
- brief time he lowered his eyes. A little girl with normal feet was
- trudging round and round the millstones, laboriously grinding out a double
- handful of flour; a skinny old woman, in trousers, her feet mere stumps,
- hobbled across the court with a stew pan, not so much as looking up at the
- caravan or at the haughty white stranger; ragged men moved about among the
- animals behind the manger. The huge gates had been swung open by coolies,
- who stood against them; outside was the narrow, deep-rutted roadway, with
- shops beyond.... Finally, brows knit as if he were at once hurt and
- puzzled, face white, Brachey took in the caravan—the calmly waiting
- soldiers, the muleteers, the grotesquely mounted cook and interpreter, the
- large, boxlike vehicle suspended in its richly dingy colors between two
- mules—and then, with tightly compressed lips and a settling frown,
- he rode out into the street ahead of the soldiers.
- </p>
- <p>
- With a lively jingle of bells and creakings from the litter as it swayed
- into motion, the others followed. One of the soldiers promptly came up
- alongside Brachey; their two ponies nearly filled the street, crowding
- passers-by into doorways.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey led the way out through the Northern Gate to the mission compound.
- Here he dismounted, handed his reins to a muleteer, and entered the gate
- house.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0247.jpg" alt="0247 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0247.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ld Sun Shao-i
- hurried from his chair and barred the inner door. Regarding this white man
- he had orders from Mrs. Boatwright. Brachey, however, brushed him
- carelessly aside and went on into the court.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the sort of thing, this walking coolly in, where he was not wanted,
- that he did well. He really cared nothing what they thought. He distrusted
- profoundly Mrs. Boatwright's judgment, and did not even consider sending
- in his name or a note. The hour had come for meeting her face to fare and
- by force of will defeating her. There was no time now for indulgence in
- personal eccentricities on the part of any of these few white persons set
- off in a vast, threatening world of yellow folk.
- </p>
- <p>
- Within the spacious courtyard the sunlight lay in glowing patches on the
- red tile. Through open windows came the fresh school-room voices of girls.
- At the steps of a small building at his right stood or lounged a group of
- Chinese men and old women and children—Brachey had learned that only
- by occasional chance is a personable young or even middle-aged.
- </p>
- <p>
- He led the way out through the northern gate aged woman visible to
- masculine eyes in China—each apparently with some ailment; one man
- had eczema; one boy a goitre that puffed out upon his breast, others with
- traces of the diseases that rage over China unchecked except to a tiny
- degree here and there in the immediate neighborhood of a medical
- mission.... It was a scene of peace and apparent security. The mission
- organization was functioning normally. Clearly they hadn't the news.
- </p>
- <p>
- A thin thoughtful woman came out of a school building, and confronted him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am Mr. Brachey,” said he coldly; “Jonathan Brachey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The woman drew herself up stiffly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What can I do for you, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She was stern; hostile.... How little it mattered!
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must see you all together, at once,” he said in the same coldly direct
- manner—“Mr. and Mrs. Boatwright, if you please, and any others.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can't you say what you have to say to me now? I am Miss Hemphill, the
- head teacher.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” he replied, not a muscle of his face relaxing. “May I ask why not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is not a matter of individual judgment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But Mrs. Boatwright will refuse to see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sony, but Mrs. Boatwright will have to see me and at once. And not
- alone, if you please. I don't care to allow her to dismiss what I have to
- say without consideration.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Hemphill considered; finally went up into the dispensary, past the
- waiting unfortunates on the steps. Brachev stood erect, motionless, like a
- military man. After a moment, Miss Hemphill came out, followed by another
- woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is Dr. Cassin,” she said; adding with a slight hesitation as if she
- found the word unpalatable—“Mr. Brachey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The physician at once took the matter in hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will please tell us what you have to say, Mr. Brachey. It will be
- better not to trouble Mrs. Boatwright.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey made no reply to this speech; merely stood as if thinking the
- matter over. Then his eye caught' a glimpse of something pink and white
- that fluttered past an up-stairs window. Then, still without a word, he
- went on to the residence, mounted the steps and rang the bell.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two women promptly followed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will please not enter this house,” said Dr. Cassin severely.
- </p>
- <p>
- A Chinese servant opened the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wish to see Mr. and Mrs. Boatwright at once,” said Brachey; then, as
- the servant was about to close the door, stepped within.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two women pressed in after him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are acting in a very high-handed manner,” remarked Dr. Cassin with
- heat—“an insolent manner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I regret that it is necessary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is <i>not</i> necessary!” This from Miss Hemphill.
- </p>
- <p>
- He merely looked at her, then away; stood waiting.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright appeared in a doorway.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What does this mean?” was all she seemed able to say at the moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you kindly send for the others”—thus Brachey—“Mr.
- Boatwright, any other whites who may be here, and—Miss Doane.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is necessary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is not. Why are you here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is not a matter for you to decide. I must have everybody present.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a rustle from the stairs. Betty, very pale, her slim young
- person clad in a lacy négligée gown of Japanese workmanship, very quick
- and light and nervously alert, came down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you please go back to your room?” cried Mrs. Boatwright.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the girl, coming on as far as the newel post, stopped there and
- replied, regretfully, even gently, but firmly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Mrs. Boatwright.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you at least do us the courtesy to dress yourself properly?”
- </p>
- <p>
- This, Betty, her eyes straining anxiously toward Brachey, ignored.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>r. Casein then
- abruptly, speaking in Chinese, sent the servant for Mr. Boatwright, and
- deliberately led the way into the front room. The others followed, without
- a word, and stood about silently until the appearance of Mr. Boatwright,
- who came in rather breathless, mopping his small features.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you do?” he said to Brachey; and for an instant seemed to be
- considering extending his hand; but after a brief survey of the grimly
- silent figures in the room, catching the general depression in the social
- atmosphere, he let the hand fall by his side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, Mr. Braehey,” remarked Dr. Cassin, with an air of professional
- briskness, “every one is present. We are ready for the business that
- brought you here.” Brachey looked about the room; his eyes rested longest
- on the physician. To her he handed the letter, saying simply:
- </p>
- <p>
- “This was written within the hour, by Po Sui-an, secretary to His
- Excellency Pao Ting Chuan. Will you please read it aloud, Dr. Cassin?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, as if through with the others, he went straight over to Betty, who
- stood by the windows. Quickly and softly he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brace up, little girl! It is bad news.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” she breathed, “is it—is it—father?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He bowed. She saw his tightened lips and the shine in his eyes; then she
- wavered, fought for breath, caught at his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright was calling out, apparently to Betty, something about
- taking a chair on the farther side of the room. There was a stir of
- confusion; but above it Brachey's voice rose sharply:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Read, please, Dr. Cassin!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Soberly they listened. After beginning the postscript, Dr. Cassin stopped
- short; then, slowly, with considerable effort, read the announcement of
- Griggsby Duane's death.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the room was still.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright was the first to speak; gently for her, and unsteadily,
- though the strong will that never failed this vigorous woman carried her
- along without a sign of hesitation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mary,” she said, addressing Miss Hemphill, “you had better go up-stairs
- with Betty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Dr. Cassin, ignoring this, or perhaps only half-hearing it (her eyes were
- brimming) broke in with:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Brachey, you must have come here with some definite plan or purpose.
- Will you please tell us what it is?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” cried Mrs. Boatwright—“no! If you please, Mary, this man must
- not stay here. Betty!... Betty, dear!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty did not even turn. She was staring out the window into the peaceful
- sunflecked courtyard, the tears running unheeded down her cheeks, her hand
- twisted tightly in Brachey's. He spoke now, in the cold voice, very stiff
- and constrained, that masked his feelings.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The death of Mr. Doane makes it clear that there is no safety here. There
- is a chance, to-day, for us all to get safely away. I have, at the gate, a
- litter and one riding horse, also a few pack animals. Most of my goods can
- be thrown aside—clothing, all that. The food I have, used sparingly,
- would serve for a number of us. We should be able to pick up a few carts.
- I suggest that we do so at once, and that we get away within an hour, if
- possible. We must keep together, of course. I suggest further, that any
- differences between us be set aside for the present.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They looked at one another. Miss Hemphill pursed her lips and knit her
- brows, as if unable to think with the speed required. Dr. Cassin, sad of
- face, soberly thinking, moved absently over to the silent girl by the
- window; gently put an arm about her shoulders. Mr. Boatwright, sunk deeply
- in his chair, was pulling with limp aimless fingers at the fringe on the
- chair-arm; once he glanced up at his wife.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This may not be true,” said Mrs. Boatwright abruptly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is from Pao's yamen,” said Miss Hemphill.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it may be no more than a rumor. Our first duty is to telegraph Mrs.
- Nacy at Hung Chan and ask for full particulars.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is”—this was Mr. Boatwright; he cleared his throat—“is there
- time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright's mouth had clamped shut. No one had ever succeeded in
- stampeding or even hurrying her mind. She had, for the moment, dismissed
- the special problem of Betty and this man Brachey from that mind and was
- considering the general problem. That settled, she would again take up the
- Brachey matter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is time,” she said, after a moment. “There must be. Mr. Doane left
- positive instructions that we were to await his return. He will be here
- to-night or to-morrow morning, if he is alive.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But—my dear”—it was her husband again—“Po is careful to
- explain that by to-morrow escape will be cut off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That,” replied his wife, still intently thinking, “is only a rumor, after
- all. China is always full of rumors. Even if it is true, these soldiers
- are not likely to act so promptly, whatever Po may think. If they should,
- we shall be no safer on the highway than here in our own compound.... And
- how about our natives? How about our girls—all of them? Shall we
- leave them?... No!” She was thinking, tanking. “No, I shall not go. I am
- going to stay here. I shall keep my word to Mr. Doane.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she rose and approached the little group by the window. Her eyes,
- resting on the firmly clasped hands of the lovers, snapped fire. Her face,
- again, was granite. To Dr. Cassiri, very quietly, she remarked, “Take
- Betty up-stairs, please.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The physician, obeying, made a gentle effort to draw the girl away; but
- met with no success.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright addressed herself to Brachey: “Will you please leave this
- compound at once!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He said nothing. Betty's fingers were twisting within his.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can hardly make use of force,” continued Mrs. Boatwright, “but I ask
- you to leave us. And we do not wish to see you again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey drew in a slow long breath: looked about the room, from one to
- another. Miss Hemphill and Boatwright had risen; both were watching him;
- the little man seemed to have found his courage, for his chin was up now.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Brachey felt, knew, that they were a unit against him. The
- fellow-feeling, the community of faith and habit that had drawn them
- together through long, lonely years of service, was stronger now than any
- mere threat of danger, even of death. They felt with the indomitable woman
- who had grown into the leadership, and would stay with her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey surveyed them. These were the missionaries he had despised as
- weak, narrow little souls. Narrow they might be, but hardly weak. No, not
- weak. Even this curious little Boatwright; something that looked like
- strength had come to life in him. He wouldn't desert. He would stay. To
- certain and horrible death, apparently. The very certainty of the danger
- seemed to be clearing that wavering little mind of his. A thought that
- made it all the more puzzling was that these people knew, so much better,
- so much more deeply, than he, all that had happened in 1900. Their own
- friends and pupils—white and yellow—had been slaughtered. The
- heart-breaking task of reconstruction had been theirs.
- </p>
- <p>
- And at the same time, seeming like a thought-strand in his brain, was the
- heart-breaking pressure of that soft, honest little hand in his.... Very
- likely it was the end for all of them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” he said icily. “I am sorry I can't be of use. However, if any
- of you care to go I shall esteem it a privilege to share my caravan with
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- No one spoke, or moved. The iron face of Mrs. Boatwright confronted his.
- </p>
- <p>
- Very gently, fighting his deepest desire, fighting, it seemed, life
- itself, he tried to disentangle his fingers from Betty's.
- </p>
- <p>
- But hers gripped the more tightly. There was a silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Betty whispered—faintly, yet not caring who might hear:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can't let you go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must, dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I can't stay here. Will you take me with you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He found this impossible to answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It won't take me long. Just a few things in a bag.” And she started away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright made an effort to block her, but Betty, without another
- sound, slipped by and out of the room and ran up the stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Mrs. Boatwright turned on the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will do this?” she said, in firm stinging tunes. “You will take this
- girl away?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked at her out of an expressionless face. Behind that mask, his mind
- was swiftly surveying the situation from every angle. He knew that he
- couldn't, as it stood, leave Betty here. And they wouldn't let him stay.
- He must at least try to save her. Nothing else mattered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” he replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright turned away. Brachey moved out into the hall and stood
- there. To her “At least you will step outside this house?” he replied,
- simply, “No.” Dr. Cassin, with a remark about the waiting queue at the
- dispensary, went quietly back to her routine work, as if there were no
- danger in the world. Mr Boatwright had turned to his wife's desk, and was
- making a show of looking over some papers there. Miss Hemphill sank into a
- chair and stared at the wall with the memory of horror in her eyes. Mrs.
- Boatwright stood within the doorway, waiting.
- </p>
- <p>
- A little time passed. Then Betty came running down the stairs, in
- traveling suit, carrying a hand-bag.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright stepped forward.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You really mean to tell me that you will go—alone—with this
- man?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty's lips slowlyy formed the word, “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then never come again to me. I can not help you. You are simply bad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty turned to Brachey; gave him her bag.
- </p>
- <p>
- Outside the gate house the little caravan waited.
- </p>
- <p>
- The mules were brought to their knees. Betty stepped, without a word, into
- the litter. Brachey closed the side door, and mounted his pony. The mules
- were kicked and flogged to their feet. The two soldiers in the lead set
- off around the city wall to the corner by the eastern gate, whence the
- main highway mounted slowly into the hills toward Ping Yang. As they
- turned eastward, a fourth muleteer, ragged and dirty, bearing a small
- pack, as the others, joined the party; a fact not observed by the white
- man, who rode close beside the litter.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when they had passed the last houses and were out where the road began
- to sink below the terraced grain-fields, the new muleteer stepped forward.
- For a little space he walked beside the white man's pony.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey, at last aware of him, glanced down at the ragged figure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's a deuce of a note,” said the new muleteer, looking up and smiling,
- “that your courtesy should return like confounded boomerang on your head.
- I make thousands of apologies.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey started; then said, merely:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!... You!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed I have in my own canoe take French leave. That it is funny as the
- devil and intruding presumption I know full well. But I have thought to be
- of service and pay my shot if you offer second helping of courtesy and
- glad hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey nodded. “Come along,” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV—THE HILLS
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>OST of the day,
- advised by Brachey. Betty kept closed the swinging litter doors. The
- little caravan settled into the routine of the highway, the muleteers
- trudging beside their animals. The gait was a steady three miles an hour.
- John rode his pack-saddle hour after hour, until six' o'clock in the
- evening, without a word. Just behind him, the cook, a thin young man with
- dreamy eyes, sang quietly a continuous narrative in a wailing, yodling
- minor key.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before the end of the first hour they had lost sight of T'ainan-fu and
- buried themselves in the hills; buried themselves in a double sense, for
- wherever water runs in Northwestern China the roads are narrow canyons. At
- times, however, the way mounted high along the hillsides, on narrow
- footways of which the mules all instinctively trod the outer edge. Brachey
- found it alarming to watch the litter as it swayed over some nearly
- perpendicular precipice. For neither up here on the hillsides nor along
- the path nor in the depths below was there a sign of solid rock; it was
- all the red-brown earth known as loess, which is so fine that it may be
- ribbed into the pores like talc or flour and that packs down as firmly as
- chalk. Along the sunken ways were frequent caves, the dwelling-places of
- crippled, loathsome beggars, with rooms cut out square and symmetrical
- doors and windows.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the high places one might look across a narrow chasm and see,
- decorating the opposite wall, strata of the loess in delicately varied
- tints of brown, red, Indian red and crimson, with blurred soft streaks of
- buff and yellow at times marking the divisions.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hills themselves were steep and crowded in, as if a careless Oriental
- deity had scooped together great handfuls of brown dice and thrown them
- haphazard into heaps. Trees were so few—here and there one might be
- seen clinging desperately to a terrace-wall where the narrow fields of
- sprouting millet and early shoots of vegetables mounted tier on tier to
- the very summits of the hills—that the general effect was of utter
- barrenness, a tumbling red desert.
- </p>
- <p>
- Much cf the time they were winding through the canyons or twisting about
- the hillsides with only an occasional outlook wider than a few hundred
- yards or perhaps a half-mile, but at intervals the crowded little peaks
- would separate, giving them a sweeping view over miles of shadowy red
- valleys.... At such times Betty would open one of her windows a little and
- lean forward; riding close behind, Brachey could see her face, usually so
- brightly alert, now sad, peeping out at the richly colored scene.
- </p>
- <p>
- Frequently they passed trains of camels or asses or carts, often on a
- precipice where one caravan hugged the loess wall while the other flirted
- with death along the earthen edge. But though the Hansean or Chihlean
- muleteers shouted and screamed in an exciting confusion of voices and the
- Mongol camel drivers growled and the ponies plunged, no animal or man was
- lost.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nearly always the air was heavy with fine red dust. It enveloped them like
- a fog, penetrating clothing, finding its way into packs and hand-bags. At
- times it softened and exquisitely tinted the view.
- </p>
- <p>
- At long intervals the little caravan wound its slow way through villages
- that were usually built along a single narrow street. In the broader
- valleys the villages, gray brown and faintly red like the soil of which
- their bricks had once been moulded, clung compactly to hill-slopes safely
- above the torrents of spring and autumn, each little settlement with its
- brick or stone wall and its ornamental pagoda gates, and each with its
- cluster of trees about some consequential tomb rising above the low roofs
- in plumes of pale green April foliage.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nowhere was there a sign of the disorder that was ravaging the province
- like a virulent disease. Brachey was aware of no glances of more than the
- usual passing curiosity from slanting eyes. He saw only the traditional
- peaceful countryside of the Chinese interior.
- </p>
- <p>
- This sense of peace and calm had an effect on his moody self that
- increased as the day wore on. Life was turning unreal on his hands. His
- judgment wavered and played tricks with memory. Had it been so dangerous
- back there in T'ainan? Could it have been? He had to look steadily at the
- ragged, trudging figure of the erstwhile elegant Mr. Po to recapture a
- small degree of mental balance.... He had brought Betty away. He saw this
- now with a nervous, vivid clarity for what it was, an irrevocable act. It
- had come about naturally and simply; it had felt inevitable; yet now at
- moments, unable to visualize again the danger that had seemed terribly
- real in T'ainan he felt it only as the logical end of the emotional drift
- that had carried the two of them far out beyond the confines of reason. It
- was even possible that Mrs. Boatwright's judgment was the better.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Betty couldn't go back now; they had turned her off; not unless her
- father should yet prove to be alive, and that was hardly thinkable.
- Anxiously during the day, he asked Mr. Po about that. But Mr. Po's
- confidence in the accuracy of his information was unshakable. So here he
- was, with a life on his hands, a life so dear to him that he could not
- control his mind in merely thinking of her there in the litter, traveling
- along without a question, for better or worse, with himself; a life that
- perhaps, despite this new spirit of consecration that was rising in his
- breast, he might succeed only in injuring. Brooding thus, he became grave
- and remote from her.
- </p>
- <p>
- In his distant way he was very considerate, very kind. During the
- afternoon, as they moved up a long valley, skirting a broad watercourse
- where peach and pear trees foamed with blossoms against the lower slopes
- of the opposite hills, he persuaded her to descend from the litter and
- walk for a mile or two with him. He felt then her struggle to keep
- cheerful and make conversation, but himself lacked the experience with
- women that would have made it possible for him to overcome his own
- depression and brighten her, Once, when the caravan stopped to repack a
- slipping saddle, he asked her to sketch the view for him. It was his idea
- that she should be kept occupied when possible. He always corrected his
- own moods in that disciplinary manner. But just then his feelings were
- running so high, his tenderness toward her was so sensitively deep, that
- he spoke bruskly.
- </p>
- <p>
- They rode on through the sunset into the dusk. The red hills turned slowly
- purple under the glowing western sky, swam mistily in a world-wide sea of
- soft dame.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty opened her windows wide now; gazed out at this scene of unearthly
- beauty with a sad deep light in her eyes.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey rode into
- another village. A soldier galloped on ahead to inspect the less
- objectionable inn. He reappeared soon, and the caravan jingled and creaked
- into a courtyard and stopped for the night. John dismounted and plunged
- into argument with the innkeeper. The cook set to work removing a
- pack-saddle. Coolies appeared. The mules were beaten to their knees.
- Brachey threw his bridle to a soldier and helped Betty out of the litter.
- Then they stood, he and she, amid the confusion, her hand resting lightly
- on his arm, her eyes on him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here they were! He felt now her loneliness, her sadness, her—the
- word rose—her helpless dependence upon himself. She was so helpless!
- His heart throbbed with feeling. He couldn't look down at her, standing
- there so close. He couldn't have spoken; not just then. He was struggling
- with the impractical thought that he might yet protect her from the savage
- tongues of the coast; from himself, even, when you came to it. The
- depression that had been pulling him down all day was turning now, rushing
- up and flooding his fired brain like a bitter tide. He shouldn't have let
- her come. It had been a beautiful impulse; her quiet determination to give
- her life into his hands had thrilled him beyond his deepest dreams of
- happiness, had lifted him to a plane of devotion that he remembered now,
- felt again, even in his bitterness, as utter beauty, intensified rather
- than darkened by the tragic quality of the hour. But he shouldn't have let
- her come. Mightn't she, after all, have been as safe hack there in the
- mission compound? What was the matter?... He hadn't thought of her coming
- on with him alone. That had simply happened. It was bewildering. Life had
- swept them out of commonplace safety, and now here they were! And nothing
- to do but go on, go through!
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I left my bag in there,” he heard her saying, and himself got it
- quickly from the litter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then John came. The “number one” rooms were to be theirs, it seemed;
- Betty's and his.... If only he could talk to her! She needed him so !
- Never, perhaps, again, would she need him as now, and he, it seemed, was
- failing her. Silently he led her up the steps of the little building at
- the end of the courtyard and into the corridor; peered into one dim room
- and then into the other; then curtly, roughly ordered John to spread for
- her his own square of new matting.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her hand was still on his arm, resting there, oh, so lightly. She seemed
- very slim and small.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's a dreadful place,” he made himself say. “But we'll have to make the
- best of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't mind,” he thought she replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps we'd better have dinner in here, It's a little cleaner than my
- room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She glanced up at him, then down: “I don't believe I can eat anything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you must.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I'll try.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll ask Mr. Po to come in with us. He is a gentleman. And perhaps it
- would be better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes,” said she, “of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here's John with hot water. I'll leave you now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'll—come back?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For dinner, yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With this he gently withdrew his arm. As she watched him go her eyes
- filled Then she closed her door.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey found Mr. Po curled on the ground against a pack-saddle, smoking a
- Chinese pipe.
- </p>
- <p>
- He rose at once, all smiles, and bowed half-way to the ground. But he
- thought it inadvisable to accept the invitation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hate to be fly in ointments,” he said, with his curiously dispassionate
- quickness and ease of speech, “but it's really no go. Our own men would
- play game of thick and thin blood brother, but to village gossip monger I
- must remain muleteer and down and out person of no account. It's a dam'
- sight safer for each and every one of us.”
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>etty tried to set
- the dingy room to rights. John had laid a white cloth over the table, and
- put out Brachey's tin plate and cup, his knife, fork and spoon, an English
- biscuit tin and a bright little porcelain jar of Scotch jam that was
- decorated with a red-and-green plaid. These things helped a little. She
- tidied herself as best she could; and then waited.
- </p>
- <p>
- For a time she sat by the table, very still, hands folded in her lap; but
- this was difficult, for thoughts came—thoughts that spun around and
- around and bewildered her—and tears. The tears she would not permit.
- She got up; rearranged the things on the table; moved over to the window,
- and through a hole in one of the paper squares watched with half-seeing
- eyes the coolies and soldiers and animals in the courtyard. Her head
- ached. And that wheel of patchwork thoughts spun uncontrollably around.
- </p>
- <p>
- For a little time then the tears came unhindered. That her father, that
- strong splendid man, could have been casually slain by vagabonds in a
- Chinese city seemed now, as it had seemed all day, incredible. His loss
- was only in part personal to her, so much of her life had been lived on
- the other side of the world; but childhood memories of him rose, and
- pictures of him as she had lately seen him, grave and kind and (since that
- moving little talk about beauty and its importance in the struggle of
- life) lovable. Her mother, too, had to-day become again a vivid memory.
- And then the sheer mystery of death twisted and tortured her sensitive
- Pagination, led her thoughts out into regions so grimly, darkly beautiful,
- so unbearably poignant, that her slender frame shook with sobs.
- </p>
- <p>
- The sensation of rootlessness, too, was upon her. But now it was complete.
- There was no tie to hold her to life. Only this man on whom, moved by
- sheer emotion, without a thought of self, yet (she thought now) with utter
- unreasoning selfishness, she had fastened herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright had called her bad. That couldn't be true. She couldn't
- picture herself as that. Even now, in this bitter crisis, she wasn't hard,
- wasn't even reckless; simply bewildered and terribly alone. Emotion had
- caught her. It <i>was</i> like a net. It had carried her finally out of
- herself. There was no way back; she was caught. Yet now the only thing
- that had justified this step—and how simple, how easy it had
- appeared in the morning!—the beautiful sober passion that had drawn
- her to the one mate, was clouded. For he had changed! He had drawn away.
- They were talking no more of love. She couldn't reach him; her desperately
- seeking heart groped in a dim wilderness and found no one, nothing. His
- formal kindness hurt her. Nothing could help her but love; and love,
- perhaps, was gone.
- </p>
- <p>
- So the wheel spun on and on.
- </p>
- <p>
- She saw him talking with the indomitably courteous Mr. Po. He came back
- then to the building they were to share that night. She heard him working
- at his door across the narrow corridor, trying to close it. He succeeded;
- then stirred about his room for a long time; a very long time, she
- thought.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then John came across the court from the innkeeper's kitchen with covered
- dishes, steaming hot. She let him in; then, while he was setting out the
- meal, turned away and once more fought back the tears. Brachey must not
- see them. She was helped in this by a sudden mentally blinding excitement
- that came, an inexplicable nervous tension. He was coming; and alone, for
- she had seen Mr. Po shake his head and settle back contentedly with his
- pipe against the pack-saddle.... That was the strange fact about love; it
- kept rushing unexpectedly back whenever her unstable reason had for a
- little while disposed of it; an unexpected glimpse of him, a bit of his
- handwriting, a mere thought was often enough. Sorrow could not check it;
- at this moment her heart seemed broken by the weight of the tragic world,
- yet it thrilled at the sound of his step. And it couldn't be wholly
- selfish, for the quite overwhelming uprush of emotion brought with it a
- deeper tenderness toward her brave father, toward that pretty, happy
- mother of the long ago; she thought even of her school friends. She was
- suddenly stirred with the desire to face this strange struggle called
- living and conquer it. Her heart leaped. He was coming!
- </p>
- <p>
- His door opened. He stepped across the corridor and tapped at hers. She
- hurried to open it. All impulse, she reached out a hand; then, chilled,
- caught again in the dishearteringly formal mood of the day, drew it back.
- </p>
- <p>
- For he stood stiffly there, clad in black with smooth white shirt-front
- and collar and little black tie. He had dressed for dinner.
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned quickly toward the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “John has everything ready,” she said, now quite as formal as he. “We may
- as well sit right down.”
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or a time they
- barely spoke. John had lighted the native lamp, and it flickered gloomily
- in the swiftly gathering darkness, throwing a huge shadow of him on the
- walls, and even on the ceiling, as he moved softly in his padded shoes
- about the table and in and out at the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty's mood had sunk, now at last, into the unreal. She seemed to be
- living through a dream of nightmare quality—something she had—it
- was elusive, haunting—lived through before. She saw Jonathan Brachey
- distantly, as she had seen him at first, so bewilderingly long ago on a
- ship in the Inland Sea of Japan. She saw again his long bony nose, coldly
- reflective eyes, firmly modeled head.... And he was talking, when he spoke
- at all, as he had talked on the occasion of their first meeting, slowly,
- in somewhat stilted language, pausing interminably while he hunted about
- in his amazing mind for the word or phrase that would precisely express
- his meaning.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is a village a short distance this side of Ping Yang, Mr. Po tells
- me”... here a pause... “not an important place. Ordinarily we should pass
- through it about noon of the day after to-morrow. But he has picked up
- word that a Looker band has been organized there, and he thinks it may be
- best for us to...” and here a pause so long as to become nearly unbearable
- to Betty. For a time she moved her fork idly about her plate, waiting for
- that next word. At length she gave up, folded her hands in her lap, tried
- to compose her nerves. After that she glanced timidly at him, then looked
- up at the waveing shadows on the dim veils. It was almost as if he had
- forgotten she was there. He was interested, apparently, in nothing in life
- except those words he sought: “... to make a detour to the south.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty drew in a deep breath. She felt her color coming slowly back. The
- 'best thing to do, she decided, was to go on trying to eat. He had been
- right enough about that. She must try. It was, in a way, her part of it;
- to keep strong. Or she would be more hopelessly than ever fastened on
- him.... It seemed to her as never before a dreadful thing to be a woman.
- Tears came again, and she fought them back, even managed actually to eat a
- little. “It will mean still another....”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Another what?” She waited and waited.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Another night on the road, after tomorrow. I am sorry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0273.jpg" alt="0273 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0273.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- She had lately forgotten the slightly rasping quality in his voice, though
- it had been what she had first heard there. Now it seemed to her that she
- could hear nothing else.... What blind force was it that had thrust them
- so wide apart; after those ardent, tender, heart-breaking hours together
- at T'ainan; wonderful stolen hours, stirring her to a happiness so wildly
- beautiful that it touched creative springs in her sensitive young soul and
- released the strong eager woman there. This, the present situation,
- carried her so far beyond her experience, beyond her mental grasp, that,
- she could only sit very quiet and try to weather it. She could do that, of
- course, somehow. One did. It came down simply to the gift of character.
- And that, however undeveloped, she had.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now and then, of course, clear thoughts flashed out for a moment; but only
- for a moment at a time. She sensed clearly enough that his whole being was
- centered on the need of protecting her. It was the fineness in him that
- made him hold himself so rigidly to the task. But it was a task to him;
- that was the thing. And his reticence! It was his attitude—or was it
- hers?—that had made frank talk impossible all day, ever since their
- moment of perfect silent understanding facing Mrs. Boatwright. He had felt
- then, with her, that she had to come, that it was their only way out; but
- now he, and therefore she, was clouded with afterthoughts. They had come
- to be frank enough about their dilemma, back there at T'ainan. But from
- the moment of leaving the city gate and striking tiff into the hills, they
- had lost something vital. And with every hour of this reticence, this
- talking about nothing, the situation was going to grow worse. She felt
- that, even now; struggled against it; but tound herself moving deeper,
- minute by minute, into the gloom that had settled on them.... And back of
- her groping thoughts, giving them a puzzling sort of life, was excitement,
- energy, the sense of being borne swiftly along on a mighty wave of feeling—swiftly,
- swiftly, to a tragic, dim place where the withered shadows of youth and
- joy and careless laughter caught at one in hopeless weakness and slipped
- off unheeded into the unknown.
- </p>
- <p>
- They came down at last to politeness. They even spoke of the food; and he
- reproved John for not keeping the curried mutton hot. And then, without
- one personal word, he rose to go. She rose, too, and stood beside her
- chair; she couldn't raise her eyes. She heard his voice saying, coldly she
- thought:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall leave you now. You must...”
- </p>
- <p>
- She waited, holding her breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- “... you must get what sleep you can. I think we shall have no trouble
- here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- After this he stood for a long moment. She couldn't think why. Then he
- went out, softly closing the door after him. Then his door opened, and,
- with some creaking of rusty hinges and scraping on the tiles, closed. And
- then Betty dropped down by the table and let the tears come.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI—DESTINY
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>HE heard little
- more for several hours; merely a muffled stirring about, at long
- intervals, as if he were walking the floor or trying to move a chair very
- quietly. The cot on which she now so restlessly lay was his. She couldn't
- sleep; he might as well have it, but would, of course, refuse.... She
- listened for a long time to the movements of the animals in the stable.
- Much later—the gong-clanging watchman had passed on his rounds twice
- at fewest; it must have been midnight—she heard him working very
- softly at his door. He was occupied some little time at this. She lay
- breathless. At length he got it open, and seemed to stand quietly in the
- corridor. Then, after a long silence, he opened as carefully the outer
- door, that had on it, she knew, a spring of bent steel, like a bow. After
- this he was still; standing outside, perhaps, or sitting on the top step.
- </p>
- <p>
- For a moment she indulged herself in the wish that she might ha\e courage
- to call to him; to call him by name; to call him by the name, “John,” she
- had no more than begun, that last day in the tennis court, timidly to
- utter. Her whole being yearned toward him She asked herself, lying there,
- why honesty should be impossible to a girl. Why shouldn't she call to him?
- She needed him so; not the strange stilted man of the day and evening, but
- the other, deeply tender lover that breathed still, she was almost sure,
- somewhere within the crust that encased him. And they had been honest, he
- and she; that had turned out to be the wonderful fact in their swift
- courtship.
- </p>
- <p>
- But this was only a vivid moment. She made no sound. The warm tears lay on
- her cheeks.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a little—it rose out of a jumble of wild thoughts, and then
- slowly came clear; she must have been dozing lightly—she heard his
- voice, very low; then another voice, a man's, that ran easily on in a soft
- nervelessness, doubtless the voice of Mr. Po. She thought of making a
- sound, even of lighting the little iron lamp; they must not be left
- thinking her safely asleep; but she did nothing; and the voices faded into
- dreams as a fitful sleep came to her. Nature is merciful to the young.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>uring those
- evening hours, Brachey sat for the most part staring at his wall. Finally,
- at the very edge of despair—for life, all that night, and the next
- day and the next night, offered Brachey nothing but a blank, black
- precipice over which he and Betty were apparently plunging—he gave
- up hope of falling asleep in his chair (important though he knew sleep to
- he, in the grisly light of what might yet have to be faced) and went out
- and sat on the steps; still in the grotesquely inappropriate dinner
- costume.
- </p>
- <p>
- A shape detached itself from the shadows of the stable door and moved
- silently toward him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey welcomed the opportunity for a little man talk, if only because it
- might, for the time, take his mind in some degree out of the emotional
- whirlpool in which it was helplessly revolving.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You've heard no more news?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no,” replied Mr. Po, with his soft little laugh. “There is no more
- oil on fire of province discontent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From your letter I gathered that you are not so sure of Pao.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Po did not at once reply to this; seemed to be considering it, gazing
- out on the moonlit courtyard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is no longer a case of cat and mouse,” Brachey pressed on. “Something
- happened last night at the yamen. Am I right?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey waited. After a long pause Mr. Po shifted his position, laughed a
- little, then spoke as follows:
- </p>
- <p>
- “In afternoon yesterday old reprobate, Kang, sent to His Excellency letter
- which passed between my hands as secretary. He said that in days like
- these of great sorrow and humiliation agony of China it is best that those
- of responsible care and devotion to her welfare should draw together in
- friendship, and therefore he would in evening make call on His Excellency
- to express friendship and speak of measures that might lay dust of
- misunderstanding and what-not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hmm!” Thus Brachey. “And what did <i>that</i> mean?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, the devil to pay and all! It was insult of blackest nature.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't quite see that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes. He should not have written in arrogant put-in-your-place way.
- His Excellency most graciously gave orders to prepare ceremonial banquet
- and presents of highest value, but in his calm eye flashed light of battle
- to death. You see, sir, it was thought of Kang to show all T'ainan and
- near-by province who was who, taking bull by horns.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hmm! I don't know as I... well, go on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In particular His Excellency made prepare great bowl of sweet lotus soup,
- for in past years Kang had great weakness for such soup made by old cook
- of far-away Canton who attach to His Excellency a devil of a while ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so they had the banquet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, and I was privileged to be in midst.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes. Banquet was of great dignity and courteous good fellowship.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't altogether understand the good fellowship.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “China custom habit differs no end from Western custom habit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Naturally. Yes. But what was Kang really up to?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm driving at that. After banquet all attendant retinue mandarins
- withdraw out of rooms except secretaries.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why didn't they go too?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, well, it was felt by Kang that His Excellency might put it all over
- him with knives of armed men. And His Excellency had not forgotten tricky
- thought of Kang in eighteen-ninety-eight in Shantung when he asks
- disagreement but very strong mandarins to banquet and then sends out
- soldiers to remove heads in a wink while mandarins ride out to their homes
- when all good nights are said.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean that Kang's men beheaded all his dinner guests, because they
- disagreed with him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes.” Here Mr. Po grew reflective. “Kang is very queer old son of a
- gun—very tall, very thin, very old, with face all lines that come
- down so”—he drew down his smooth young face in excellent mimicry of
- an old man—“and he stoops so, and squints little sharp eyes like
- river rat, so. A mighty smart man, the reprobate! Regular old devil!” Mr.
- Po laughed a little. “My bosom friend Chih T'ang slipped himself in to me
- and explained in whisper talk that yamen of His Excellency was surrounded
- by Western soldiers of that old Manchu devil. And within yamen, up to
- third gate itself, swarmed a hell of a crowd of Manchu guard of Kang. It
- was no joke, by thunder!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should say not,” observed Brachey dryly. “You were going to tell me
- what Kang was really up to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! I will tell that post haste. When all had gone except four—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is, Kang, and His Excellency, and two secretaries?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, of whom it was my honor to be absurdly small part. Then Kang
- explained with utmost etiquette courtesy to His Excellency that letter had
- but yesterday come to him of most hellish import and very front rank. And
- his secretary handed cool as you please letter to me and I to Kis
- Excellency. It was letter of Prince Tuan to old Kang giving him power to
- have beheaded at once His Excellency.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To behead Pao?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! And Kang said in neat speech then that no one could imagine his
- heartsick distress that one in power should wish great headless injury to
- dear old friend of long years and association government. To him he said
- it meant hell to pay. And he asked that His Excellency pass over from own
- hand infamous letter to be destroyed on spot by own hand of himself with
- firm resolve. But His Excellency smiled—a dam' big man!—and
- said for letter of Prince Tuan he felt only worshipful respect and
- obedience spirit, and he gave letter to me, and I delivered it to
- secretary of Kang, and secretary of Kang delivered it; to old Manchu
- himself. Then Kang, with own hands tore letter to bits and dropped bits in
- bowl, and his secretary asked me to have servant burn them, but I put on
- courteous look of attention to slightest wish of His Excellency and do not
- hear low word of secretary to old devil. And then Manchu reprobate with
- great courtesy makes farewell ceremony and goes out to his chair and
- altogether it's a hell of a note.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Bradley, in his deliberately reflective way, put the curious story
- together in his mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Kang, of course, sent to Peking for that letter.” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was, in a way, fair warning to Pao that the time had come for action
- and that Pao had better not try to meddle.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes—all of that. When he had gone Pao was sad. For he knew now
- that Kang had on his side heavy hand of Imperial Court at Peking. And
- then, late in night we have word from yamen of Kang and other word from
- observing officers of His Excellency that Western soldiers make attack at
- Hung Chan and that Reverend Doane is killed at city gate. Old Kang express
- great regret consideration and shed tears of many crocodiles, but they
- don't go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Pao found himself powerless to interfere.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! And so then I had audience of His Excellency and with permission
- of his mouth sent letter to you. His Excellency formed opinion right off
- the reel that it is not wise to send warning to mission compound, and that
- if I ever send word to you my head would not longer be of much use to me
- in T'ainan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Need they know of it at Kang's yamen?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There can not be secrets 'n yamen of great mandarin from observation eyes
- of other mandarin. Nothing doing!''
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I see. Spying goes on all the time, of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! So I say farewell with tears to His Excellency, and in these old
- clothes of great disrepute, I”—he chuckled—“I make my
- skiddoo.” From within the rags about his body he drew a soiled roll of
- paper “It has occurred to me that at Ping Yang time might roll around
- heavily on your hands and then, if you don't care what fool thing you do,
- you might bring me great honor by reading this silly little thing. It is
- lecture of which I spoke lightly once too often.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Absently Brachey took it. “But why can't old Kang see,” he asked—“and
- Prince Tuan, for that matter—that if they are to start in again
- slaughtering white people, they will simply be piling up fresh trouble for
- China? Pao, I gather, does see it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh. yes, His Excellency sees very far, but now he must sit on fence and
- wait a bit. Kang, like Prince Tuan, is of the old.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Didn't the outcome of the Boxer trouble teach these men anything?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not these men. Old China mind is not same as Western progress mind—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I quite understand that, but...”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Po was slowly shaking his head. “No, old China minds dwell in
- different proposition. It is hard to say.”
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>oward morning,
- before his lamp burned out, Brachey read the lecture to which Mr. Po was
- pinning such great hopes. It seemed rather hopeless. There was humor, of
- course, in the curious arrangement of English words; but this soon wore
- off.
- </p>
- <p>
- Later, sitting in the dark, waiting for the first faint glow of dawn, and
- partly as an exercise of will, he pondered the problems clustering about
- the little, hopeful, always aggressive settlements of white in Chinese
- Asia. Mr. Po's phrases came repeatedly to mind. That one—“Old China
- mind dwell in different proposition.” Mr. Po was touching there,
- consciously or not, on the heart of the many-tinted race problems which
- this bafflingly complex old world must one day either settle or give up.
- The inertia of a numerous, really civilized and ancient race like the
- Chinese was in itself a mighty force, one of the mightiest in the
- world.... Men like Prince Tuan and this Kang despised the West, of course.
- And with some reason, when you came down to it. For along Legation Street
- the whites dwelt in a confusion of motives. They had exhibited a firm
- purpose only when Legation Street itself was attacked. By no means all the
- stray casualties among the whites in China were avenged by their
- governments. In the present little crisis out here in Hansi, it might be a
- long time—a very long time indeed—before the lumbering
- machinery of government could be stirred to act in an unaccustomed
- direction. At the present time there were not enough American troops in
- China to make possible a military expedition to Ping Yang; merely a
- company of marines at the legation. To penetrate so far inland and
- maintain communication an army corps would be needed; troops might even
- have to be assembled and trained in America. It might take a year. And
- first the diplomats would have to investigate; then the State Department
- would have to be brought by heavy and complicated public pressures to the
- point of actually functioning; a sentimental element back home might
- question the facts... Meantime, he hadn't yet so much as got Betty safely
- to Ping Yang.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was “hard to say.” But he found objective thought helpful. Emotion
- seemed, this night, not unlike a consuming fire. Emotion was, in its
- nature, desire. It led toward destruction.
- </p>
- <p>
- He even made himself sleep a little, in a chair; until John knocked, at
- seven. Then he changed from evening dress to knickerbockers. His spirit
- had now sunk so low that he had John serve them separately with breakfast.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the caravan was ready he went out to the courtyard and busied himself
- preparing the litter for her. She came out with John, very white, glancing
- at him with a timid question in her eyes. In his stiffest manner he handed
- her into the litter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, accompanied by three soldiers, they swung out on the highway. The
- fourth soldier joined them outside the wall; him Brachey had sent to the
- telegraph station with a message to his Shanghai bankers advising them
- that his address would be in care of M. Pourmont, the Ho Shan Company,
- Ping Yang, Hansi, and further that cablegrams from America were to be
- forwarded immediately by wire.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p>
- Only at intervals during the forenoon did Betty and Brachey speak; for the
- most part he rode ahead of the litter. The luncheon hour was awkward; the
- dinner hour, when they had settled at their second inn, was even more
- difficult. They sat over their tin plates and cups in gloomy silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Finally Betty pushed her plate away, and rose; went over to the papered
- window and stared out.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey got slowly to his feet; stood by the table. He couldn't raise his
- eyes; he could only study the outline of his plate and move it a little,
- this way and that, and pick up crumbs from the table-cloth. His mind was
- leaden; the sense of unreality that had come to him on the preceding day
- was now at a grotesque climax. He literally could not think. This, he
- felt, was the final severe test of his character, and it exhibited him as
- a failure. He was then, after all, a lone wolf; his instinct had been
- sound at the start, his nature lacked the quality, the warmth and richness
- of feeling, that the man who would claim a woman's love must offer her. He
- could suffer—the pain that even now, as he stood listless there,
- downcast, heavily fingering a tin plate, was torturing him to the limits
- of his capacity to endure, told him that— out suffering seemed a
- poor gift to bring the woman he loved. ... And here they were, unable to
- turn back. It was unthinkable; yet it was true. His reason kept thundering
- at his ear the perhaps tragic fact that his spirit was unable to grasp....
- Braehey, during this hour—with a bitterness so deep as to border on
- despair—told himself that his lack amounted to abnormality. His case
- seemed quite hopeless. Yet here he was; and here, irrevocably, was she.
- The harm, whatever it might prove to be, and in spite of his sensitive,
- fire conquest of them emotional problem (at such a price, this!) was done.
- And there were no compensations. Here they were, lost, groping helplessly
- toward each other through a dark labyrinth.
- </p>
- <p>
- Even when she turned (he heard her, and felt her eyes) he could not look
- up.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he heard her voice; an unsteady voice, very low; and he felt again
- the simple honesty, the naively child-like quality, that had seemed her
- finest gift. It was the artist strain in her, of course. She was not
- ashamed of her feeling, of her tears; there had never been pretense or
- self-consciousness in her. And while she now, at first, uttered merely his
- name—'"John!”—his inner ear heard her saying again, as she had
- said during their first talk in the tennis court—“I wonder if it is
- like a net.”... Yes, she seemed to be saying that again.
- </p>
- <p>
- But he was speaking; out of a thick throat:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What are we to do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He met this with a sort of mental dishonesty that he found himself unable
- to avoid. “Well—if all goes well, we shall be safe at Ping Yang
- within forty-eight hours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't mean that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shouldn't have come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I couldn't leave you there, dear. Not there at T'ainan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It wasn't you who made the decision.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I did it. It seemed the thing to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He managed to look up now, but could not knowhow coolly impenetrable he
- appeared to be. “It <i>was</i> the thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She slowly shook her head. “No... no, I shouldn't have come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can't let you say that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's true. Can't we be honest?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The question stung him. He dropped again into his chair and sat for a
- brief time, thinking, thinking, in that, to her, terribly deliberate way
- of his.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're right,” he finally came out. “We've got to be honest. It's the
- only thing left to us, apparently... The mistake lay back there in
- T'ainan. Our first talk in the tennis court. I knew then that the thing
- for me to do was to go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn't let you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I should have. That situation was the same as this, only then we
- hadn't crossed our Rubicon. Now w e have. Don't you see? This situation
- has followed that, inevitably. And now we no longer have the power to
- choose. We've got to go on, at least as far as Ping Yang. But we mustn't
- be together...”
- </p>
- <p>
- She glanced at him, then away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “—no, not even like this. We have no right to indulge our moods. I'm
- going to be really honest now. We're in danger from these natives, yes.
- But that's a small thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She moved a hand. “Of course...” she murmured.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The real danger is to you. And from me. Oh, my God, child, you're in
- danger from me!” He covered his face with his hands; then, after a moment,
- steadied himself, and rose. “I can't stay here and talk with you like
- this. I can't even help you. Already I've injured your name beyond
- repair.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She broke in here with a low-voiced remark the mature character of which
- he did not, in his self-absorption, catch. “I don't believe you know
- modern girls very well.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He went on: “So you see, I've hurt you, and now, when you need me most—oh,
- I know that!—I'm fading you. It's been a terrible mistake. But it's
- my job to get you to Ping Yang. That's all. No good talking. I'll go
- now'.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wish you wouldn't.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must. I—there we are! I'm failing you, that's all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder if we're talking—or thinking—about the same things.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Child, you're young! You don't understand! You don't seem to see how I've
- hurt you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think I see what you mean. But that—it might be difficult, of
- course, for a while, but it isn't what I've been thinking of. No, please
- let me say this! It wouldn't be fair not to give me my chance to be honest
- too. As for that—hurting me—I came with my eyes open.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Betty—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Please! I did. I deliberately decided to come with you. I knew they'd
- talk, but I didn't care—much. You see I had already made up my mind
- that we were to be married. We'd have to be, once you were free. The way
- we've felt. You came way out here, and then you didn't go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was weakness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can call it weakness, or something else. But I'm in the same boat.
- And if we couldn't let each other go then, it was bound to grow harder
- every day. I had to recognize that. That was where I crossed my Rubicon.
- Nothing else mattered very much after that. I came with you because I was
- all alone, and miserable, and—oh, I may as well say it...”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, honesty's the only thing now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I simply had to. I couldn't face life any other way. I've been
- thinking it over and over and over. I see it now. I was just selfish. Love
- is selfishness, apparently. I fastened myself on you. I knew you had to
- have solitude, but I didn't seem to care. Perhaps you've hurt me. I don't
- know. But I am beginning to see that I've wrecked your life. I'm your job,
- now, just as you said. All those things you said on the ship have been
- coming up in my mind yesterday and to-day. Don't you suppose I can see it?
- My whole life right now is a demand on you.” Her tone was not bitter, but
- sad, unutterably sad. “You said, 'Strength is better.' I'm running up with
- you now a 'spiritual' debt greater than I can ever pay. You said, 'If any
- friend of mine—man or woman—-can't win his own battles, he or
- she had better go. To hell, if it comes to that.'”
- </p>
- <p>
- She was looking full at him now, wide-eyed, standing rigid, her hands
- extended a little way.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a long silence; then, abruptly, without a word, without even a
- change of expression on his gloomy face, he left the room.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 5
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat night was
- Betty's Gethsemane. Again and again she lived through their strange
- quarrel over the half-eaten dinner here in her room. Her mind phrased and
- rephrased the wild strong things she had said to him. And these phrases
- now stung her, hurt her, as had none of his.
- </p>
- <p>
- But once again, after hours of tossing on the narrow folding cot—<i>his</i>
- cot—sleep of a sort came to her. She did not wake until half a
- hundred beams of sunshine were streaming in through the dilapidated paper
- squares.
- </p>
- <p>
- She rose and peeped out into the courtyard. They were packing one of the
- saddles; John, and cook, and a soldier. Brachey was not in sight. He would
- be in his room then, across the corridor. She wondered if he had slept at
- all, then glanced guiltily at the cot. He would hardly lie on the unclean
- <i>kang</i>; very likely he had been forced to doze in a chair these two
- nights, while she found some real rest. There, again, she was using him,
- taking from him; and all he had asked of life was solitude, peace. For
- that he had foregone friends, a home, his country.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then her eyes rested on a bit of white paper under the door. She quickly
- drew it in, and read as follows:
- </p>
- <p>
- “My Dear, Dear Little Girl—
- </p>
- <p>
- “As you of course saw this evening, it is simply impossible for me to
- speak rationally in matters of the affections. It is equally clear that by
- indulging my feelings toward you I have brought you nothing but
- unhappiness. This was inevitable. As I wrote you before I am not a social
- being. This fact was never so clear as now. I must be alone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As regards the statements you have just made, indicating that you attach
- the blame for the present predicament to yourself, these are, of course,
- absurd. I'm sure you will come in time to see that. It will be a question
- then whether you will be able to bring yourself to forgive me for
- permitting matters to go so far as they have. That has been my weakness. I
- allowed my admiration for you and my desire for you to overcome my reason.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As for the course you must pursue, it will be, of course, to go on as far
- as Ping Yang. There I will leave you. It may even prove possible, despite
- the malignant enmity of Mrs. Boatwright, to convince M. Pourmont and the
- others that we are guilty of nothing more than an error of judgment in an
- extremely difficult situation. Certainly I shall demand the utmost respect
- for you.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall make it a point to avoid you in the morning; and it will
- undoubtedly be best that we refrain so far as possible from speech during
- the remainder of our journey. I shall go on alone, as soon as you are safe
- at Ping Yang. I can not forgive myself for thus disturbing your life.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can not trust myself to write further. It is my experience that words
- are dangerous things and not to be trifled with. I will merely add, in
- conclusion, and in wishing that you may at some later time find a mate who
- can bring into your life the qualities which you must have in order to
- attain happiness, and which I unquestionably lack, that I shall hope, in
- time, for your forgiveness.. Without that I should hardly care to live on.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jonathan Brachey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Soberly Betty read and reread this curious letter. Then for a moment her
- eyes rested on the cool signature, without so much as a “sincerely yours,”
- and then she looked at that first phrase, “My Dear, Dear Little Girl”; and
- then her eyes grew misty and she smiled, faintly, tenderly. Suddenly, this
- morning, life had changed color; the black mood was gone, like an illness
- that had passed its climax. The curious antagonism in their talk the
- evening before had, it seemed, cleared the air—at least for her. And
- now, all at once—she was beginning to feel quietly but glowingly
- exultant about it—nothing mattered.
- </p>
- <p>
- She ate all the breakfast that John brought; then hurried out. It gave her
- pleasure to stand aside and watch the packing, and particularly to watch
- Brachey as he moved sternly about. He was a strong man, as her father had
- been strong. He hadn't a glimmer of humor, but she loved him for that. He
- had all at once become so transparent. In his lonely way he had expended
- so much energy fighting the illusions of happiness, that now when real
- happiness was offered him he fought harder than ever. Her thoughtful eyes
- followed his every motion; he was tall, strong, clean.
- </p>
- <p>
- His heart and mind, in their very austerity, were like a child's.
- </p>
- <p>
- So deep ran this sober new happiness, as she stood by the litter waiting
- until he came—austerely—and helped her in (she was waiting for
- the touch of his hand, averting her face to hide the smile that she
- couldn't altogether control) that only a warmly up-rushing little thought
- of her father that came just then could restore her poise. She cared now
- about nothing else, about only this man whom she now knew she loved with
- her whole being and the father she had so suddenly, shockingly lost. If
- only, in the different ways, she might have brought happiness to each of
- these strong men. If only she could have brought them together, her father
- and her lover; for each, she felt, had fine deep qualities that the other
- would be quick to perceive.
- </p>
- <p>
- All during the morning, feeling through every sensitive nerve-tip the
- nearness of this man who loved her and whom she loved, she rode through a
- land of rosy dreams. She felt again the power over life that she had felt
- during their first talk at T'ainan. Love had come; it absorbed her
- thoughts; it was right.... She exulted in the misty red hills with their
- deep purple shadows. She smiled at the absurd camels with the rings in
- their noses and the ragged, shaggy coats.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a time, as the morning wore along, she became aware that he, too,
- was changing. Once, when he rode for a moment beside her Inter, he caught
- sight of her quietly radiant face and flushed and turned away. At lunch,
- by a roadside temple, under a tree, they talked about nothing with
- surprising ease. He was eager that she should draw and paint these
- beautiful hills of Hansi.
- </p>
- <p>
- Late in the afternoon—they were riding down an open valley—he
- appeared again beside the litter. Impulsively she reached out her hand. He
- guided his pony close; leaned over and gripped it warmly. For a little
- while they rode thus; then, happening out of a confusion of impulses that,
- with whichever it began, was instantly communicated to the other, he bent
- down and she leaned out the little side door and their lips met.
- </p>
- <p>
- The cook, from his insecure seat on the pack-saddle, carolled his endless
- musical narrative. John rode in stolid silence; the merely human emotions
- were ages old and quite commonplace. Mr. Po merely glanced up as he
- trudged along in the dust, taking the little incident calmly for granted.
- </p>
- <p>
- So it was that, unaccountably to themselves, the spin of these two lovers
- rebounded from acute depression to an exaltation that, however sobered by
- circumstance, touched the skirts of ecstasy. They rode on silently as on
- the other days> but now their hearts beat in happy unison. No longer was
- the situation of their relationship unreal to them; the unreality lay with
- the white world from which they had come and to which they must shortly
- return. The mission compound was but an immaterial memory, like an
- unpleasant moment in a long, beautiful journey.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the evening after dinner, they sat for a long time with her head on his
- shoulder dreamily talking of the mystery, their mystery, of love.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It had to be,” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- He could only incline his head and compress his lips as he gazed out over
- her head down a long vista of years, during which he would, for better or
- worse, for richer or poorer, protect and cherish her. The old phrases from
- the marriage service rang in his thoughts like cathedral bells.
- </p>
- <p>
- “1 don't believe we'll ever have those dreadful moods again,” she
- murmured, later. “At least, we won't misunderstand each other again. Not
- like that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never,” he breathed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only one thing is wrong, dear,” she added. “I wish father could have
- known you. He'd have understood you. That's the only sad thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was silent. At last, after midnight, in a spirit of deepest
- consecration, he held her gently in his arms, kissed her good night, and
- went to his own room.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII—APPARITION
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>EANTIME, M.
- Pourmont, at Ping Yang, was calling in his white assistants and sifting
- out the trustworthy among his native employees in preparation for
- withstanding a siege. He had swiftly carried out his plan of destroying
- the native huts that stood within a hundred yards of his compound. Such
- lumber and bricks as were of any value he had brought into the compound,
- using them to build two small redoubts at opposite comers of the walled-in
- rectangle and to increase the number of firing positions along the walls.
- From the redoubts the faces of the four walls and all of the hillside were
- commanded by the two machine guns. A wall of bricks and sand-bags was
- built up just within the compound gate so that the gate could be opened
- without exposing the interior to outside eyes or weapons. On all the roofs
- of the low stables and storehouses that bordered the walls were parapets
- of sand-bags.
- </p>
- <p>
- These elaborate preparations were meant as much to impress and intimidate
- the natives of the region as for actual defense. In the main, and in so
- far as they could be understood, the natives seemed friendly. Several
- thousand of the young men among them had been at various times on M.
- Pourmont's pay-roll. The trade in food supplies, brick and other necessary
- articles was locally profitable. And the shen magistrate was keenly aware
- of the commercial and military strength represented by the foreigners.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were—engineers, instrument men, stake-boys, supply agents,
- clerks, timekeepers, foremen and others—fourteen Frenchmen, eight
- Australians, three Belgians, six Englishmen, two Scotch engineers, four
- Americans, two Russians. Three of the Chinese had served as
- non-commissioned officers in the British Wei Hai Wei regiment in 1900.
- There were a few native foremen who had been trained in the modern Chinese
- army of Yuan Shi K'ai. The total force, including M. Pourmont himself and
- his immediate office force, came to forty-six white and about eighty
- able-bodied Chinese. These latter were now being put through hours of
- military drill every day in conspicuous places about the hillside.
- </p>
- <p>
- A number of men acted as intelligence runners, and the activity of these,
- supplemented by occasional word from the yamen of the shen magistrate,
- kept M. Pourmont informed of the march of events in the province. Thus it
- could not have been twelve hours after Brachey bore the news of Griggsby
- Doane's death to the mission at T'ainan-fu before M. Pourmont as well knew
- of it, the word coming hy wire to the local yamen and thence passing in
- whispers to the compound on the hill.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, late one afternoon, Doane's pretty little daughter came in, escorted
- by the American journalist, Jonathan Brachey, and a young secretary from
- the yamen of the provincial judge disguised as a muleteer. Brachey at once
- volunteered to help and was put in charge of preparing two small lookout
- posts on the upper hill. He was uncommunicative and dryly self-sufficient
- in manner, but proved a real addition to the establishment, contributing
- the great Anglo-Saxon quality of confidence and tone. Though M. Pour-mont
- would have preferred a more sociable man. His was a lonely life. He loved
- talk—even in broken English—for its own sake. He had, himself,
- vivacity and humor. And it was a disappointment that this Brachey didn't
- know <i>Çhambertin</i> from <i>vin ordinaire</i>, and cared little for
- either.
- </p>
- <p>
- Little Miss Doane touched his heart, she was so pretty, so quick in her
- bright graceful way, yet so white and sad. But always brave, as if
- sustained by inner faith. She asked at once to be put to work, and quickly
- adapted herself to the atmosphere of Mme. Pourmont's workroom in the
- residence, where Madarhe's two daughters and the English trained nurse
- were busy directing the Chinese sewing women.... It transpired that the
- Mrs. Boatwright who was in charge at the mission had refused to save
- herself and those in her charge, so the Mademoiselle had come on
- independently. This, thought M. Pourmont, showed a courage and enterprise
- suggestive of her father.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat night M.
- Pourmont telegraphed Elmer Boatwright confirming the news of Doane's
- death, and urging an immediate attempt to get through to Ping Yang.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the preceding day he had sent a party of twelve men, white and Chinese,
- in command of an Australian engineer, to Shau T'ing, on the Eastern
- Border, to get the supplies that had been shipped down from Peking. These
- men returned on the following day; and among the cases and bales of
- supplies borne on the long train of carts they guarded were the bodies of
- two dead Chinese and a Russian youth with a bullet in his throat.
- </p>
- <p>
- News came then that a large force of Lookers had started in an easterly
- direction from Hung Chan. And Boatwright wired that the mission party was
- at last under way, seven whites and fifty natives.
- </p>
- <p>
- M. Pourmont at once sent a party of forty mounted men westward along the
- highway, commanded by an Englishman named Swain. This small force fought a
- pitched battle with the Looker band that had been evaded by Brachey,
- suffering several casualties. A native was sent on ahead, riding all
- night, with a note to Boatwright advising great haste. But it was
- difficult for the mission party to travel with any speed, as it had been
- found impossible to secure horses or carts for many of the Chinese
- converts, and not one of the missionaries would consent to leave these
- charges behind. It became necessary therefore for Swain to move a
- half-day's march farther west than had been intended. He joined the
- missionaries shortly after the advance guard of the Western Lookers had
- begun an attack on the inn compound. Already six or seven of the secondary
- Christians had been dragged out and shot or burned to death when Swain led
- his white and yellow troopers in among them, shooting right and left.
- There must have been several hundred of the Lookers; but they amounted to
- little more than a disorganized mob, and as soon as they found their
- comrades falling around them, screaming in agony and fright, they threw
- away their rifles and fled.
- </p>
- <p>
- Swain at once ordered out the entire mission company, mounted as many as
- possible of the frightened fugitives on the horses of his troop, and with
- such extra carts as he could commandeer in the village for his wounded,
- himself and his uninjured men on foot, he pushed rapidly hack toward Ping
- Yang. The few Chinese who lagged were left in native houses. The horses
- that fell were dragged off the road and shot.
- </p>
- <p>
- This man Swain, though he concerns us in this narrative only incidentally,
- was one of a not unfamiliar type on the China coast. He was hardly thirty
- years of age, a blond Briton, handsome, athletic, evidently a man of some
- education and breeding. He had once spoken of serving as a subaltern in
- the Boer War. A slightly elusive reputation as a Shanghai gambler had
- floated after him to Ping Yang. He was at times a hard drinker, as his
- lined face indicated, faint, purplish markings already forming a fine
- network under the skin of his nose. His blue eyes were always slightly
- bloodshot. He never spoke of his own people. And it had been noted that
- after a few drinks he was fond of quoting Kipling's <i>The Lost Legion</i>.
- Yet on this little expedition, unknown to the archives of any war
- department, Swain proved himself a hero. He brought all but twelve of the
- fifty-seven mission folk and eight of his own wounded safely to Ping Yang,
- leaving three of his Chinese buried back there. And himself sustained a
- bullet wound through the flesh of his left forearm and a severe knife cut
- on the left hand.... The drift of opinion among respectable people along
- Bubbling Well Road in Shanghai, as here in Ping Yang, was that Swain would
- hardly do. Certain of these mission folk, in particular Miss Hemphill,
- whose philosophy of life could hardly be termed comprehensive, were later
- to find their mental attitude toward their rescuer somewhat perplexing.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p>
- Though she evidently tried to be quiet about it, Mrs. Boatwright's first
- act was troublesome. She had been taken in, of course, with the other
- white women, by the Pourmonts; in the big house. Here the principal three
- of them—Dr. Cassin on her one hand and Miss Hemphill on the other—were
- put down at the dinner table on that first evening directly opposite
- Betty. Miss Hemphill flushed a little, bit her lip, then inclined her head
- with what was clearly enough meant to be distant courtesy. Dr. Cassin,
- already too deeply occupied with her wounded to waste thought on merely
- personal matters, bowed coolly. But Mrs. Boatwright stared firmly past the
- girl at the screen of carved wood that stood behind her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty bent her head over her plate. She had of course dreaded this first
- encounter; all of her courage had been called on to bring her into the
- dining-room; but her own sense of personal loss and injury had lately been
- so overshadowed by the growing tragedy in which they were dwelling that
- she had forgotten with what complete cruelty and consistency this woman's
- stern sense of character could function. She had lost, too, in the
- mounting sober beauty of her love for Brachey, any lingering sense of
- wrong-doing. Here at Ping Yang Brachey commanded, she knew triumphantly,
- the respect of the little community.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were thinking, he and she, only at moments of themselves. Indeed,
- days passed without a stolen half-hour together. She gloried in her
- knowledge that he would neglect no smallest duty to indulge his emotions
- in companionship with her; nor would she neglect duty for him........And
- the people here were all so kind to her, so friendly! The presence of this
- grim personally was an intrusion.
- </p>
- <p>
- After dinner Mrs. Boatwright went directly to M. Pourmont in his study and
- told him that it would be necessary for her to sleep and eat in another
- building. She would give no reasons, nor would she in any pleasant way
- soften her demand. Accordingly, the Pourmonts, always courteous, always
- cheerful, made at once a new arrangement in the crowded compound. Some of
- the Australian young men were turned out into a tent; and the Boatwrights,
- accompanied by their assistants, were settled by midnight in the smaller
- building immediately adjoining the residence. Mr. Boatwright protested a
- little to his wife, but was silenced. All he could do was to make some
- extreme effort to treat the Pourmonts with courtesy.
- </p>
- <p>
- And so Betty, when in the morning she again mustered her courage to enter
- the dining-room, found them gone. And instantly she knew why... . She
- couldn't eat. All day forlorn, her mind a cavern of shadows, she put
- herself in the way of meeting Brachey, but did not find him until late in
- the afternoon. He was coming in then from the outworks up the hill. She
- stood waiting just within the gate.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had been thinking constantly, since the one misunderstanding, of the
- cablegram that would announce his freedom. In his eagerness he had
- expected to find it waiting at Ping Yang. Day after day native runners got
- through to the telegraph station and brought messages for others... To
- Betty now it seemed the one thing that could arm her against the stern
- judgment in Mrs. Boatwright's eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey's knickerbockers and stockings were red with mud. He wore a canvas
- shooting coat of M. Pourmont. He was lean, strong, quick of tread.
- </p>
- <p>
- They drew aside, into a corner of the wall of sandbags. She saw the
- momentary light in his tired eyes when they rested on her; gravely
- beautiful eyes she thought them. Her fingers caught his sleeve; her eyes
- timidly searched his face, and read an answer there to the question in her
- heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You haven't heard?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He slowly shook his head. “No, dear, not yet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her gaze wavered away from him “It's got to come,” he added. “It isn't as
- if there weren't a positive understanding.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know,” she murmured, but without conviction. “Of course. It's got to
- come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They were silent a moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I'll go back to the house,” she breathed, then. “Keep strong,
- dear,” said he very gently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know. I will. It's helped, just seeing you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she was gone.
- </p>
- <p>
- As he looked after her, his heart full of a gloomy beauty, he longed to
- call her back and in some way restore her confidence. But the appearance
- of the mission folk had shaken him, as well, this day. The mere presence
- of Mrs. Boatwright in the compound was suddenly again a living force. Up
- there on the hillside, driving his native workmen through the long hot
- hours, he had faced unnerving thoughts. For Mrs. Boatwright had brought
- him out of the glamour of his love; she, that sense of her, if merely by
- stirring his mind to resentment and resistance, restored for the time his
- keen logical faculty. He saw again clearly the mission compound at
- T'ainan-fu. And he saw Griggsby Doane—huge, strong, the face that
- might so easily be tender, working with passion in the softly flickering
- light from a Chinese lamp.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had given Griggsby Doane a pledge as solemn as one man can give
- another. He had, because Doane was so suddenly dead, broken that pledge.
- But now he knew, coldly, clearly, that of material proof that Doane was
- dead neither he nor M. Pourmont nor these difficult folk from T'ainan held
- a shred.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p>
- Early on the following morning—at about three o'clock—a small
- shell exploded in the compound. Within five minutes two others fell
- outside the walls.
- </p>
- <p>
- At once the open spaces within the walls were filled with Chinese, none
- fully dressed, talking, shouting, wailing. Among them, a moment later,
- moved white men, cartridge pouches and revolvers hastily slung on, rifles
- in hand, quietly ordering them back to their quarters and themselves
- taking positions along the walls. The crews of the two machine guns
- promptly joined the sentries in the redoubts. M. Pourmont went about
- calmly, pleasantly, supervising the final preparations. Two small parties,
- one led by Swain, the other by Brachey, went up the hillside to the men in
- the rifle pits there. A few trusted natives slipped out on scouting
- expeditions.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the first faint color appeared in the eastern sky, and the darkness
- slowly gave way through the morning twilight to the young day, the walls
- were lined with anxious faces. Strained eyes peered up and down the
- hillside for the first glimpse of the enemy. Surmises and conjectures flew
- from lip to lip—the attackers were thousands strong; American,
- French and English troops were already on the way down from Peking; no
- troops could be spared; such a relieving party had already been
- intercepted and driven back as McCalla had been driven back in 1900; the
- Shau T'ing bridge was down, the telegraph lines were broken, old Kang had
- beheaded Pao and seized the entire provincial government, was, indeed, in
- personal command here at Ping Yang. So the rumors ran.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daylight spread slowly over the hillside. Far up among the native houses
- and down near the village groups of strange figures could be seen moving
- about. They wore a uniform much like that the Boxers had worn, except that
- coat and trousers were alike red and only the turban yellow. At intervals
- shells fell here and there about the walls.
- </p>
- <p>
- Back in his study in the residence M. Pourmont, by breakfast time, had
- reports from several of his scouts and was able to sift the rumors down to
- a basis of fact. Several thousand Lookers were already in the neighborhood
- and others were on the way. The Shau T'ing bridge was gone, and it was
- true that the local shen magistrate had been cut off from telegraphic
- communication with the outside world. And Kang was at the moment
- establishing headquarters five <i>li</i> to the westward.
- </p>
- <p>
- The entrenched parties up the hillside lay unseen and unheard in their
- trenches, awaiting the signal to fire. The compound was still now.
- Breakfast was carried about to the men on duty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Toward nine o'clock considerable activity was noted up the hill, beyond
- the outposts. Several squads of the red and yellow figures appeared in the
- open apparently digging out a level emplacement on the steep hillside.
- Then a small field gun was dragged into view from behind a native compound
- wall and set in position. The distance was hardly more than two hundred
- yards; they meant to fire point-blank.
- </p>
- <p>
- M. Pourmont went out to the upper redoubt and studied the scene through
- field-glasses. The men begged permission to fire, but the bearded French
- engineer ordered them to wait.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little red and yellow men were a long time at their preparations. They
- moved about as if confident that no white man's eyes could discern them.
- Finally they gathered back of the gun. There was some further delay. Then
- the gun was fired, and a shell whirred over the compound and on across the
- valley, exploding against the opposite hillside, near a temple, in a cloud
- of smoke and red dust.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was still another wait. Then a shell carried away part of a chimney
- of the residence. The sound of distant cheers floated down-hill on the
- soft breeze. The little men clustered about the gun.
- </p>
- <p>
- M. Puurmont lowered his glasses and nodded. The machine gun opened fire,
- spraying its stream of bullets directly on the crowded figures.
- </p>
- <p>
- To the men standing and kneeling in the redoubt the scene, despite the
- rattle of the gun and the wisps of smoke curling about them and the
- choking smell, was one of impersonal calm. The Australian working the gun
- was quietly methodical about it. The crowded figures up the hill seemed to
- sit or lie down deliberately enough. Others appeared to be moving away
- slowly toward the houses, though when M. Pourmont gave them a look through
- his glasses it became evident that their legs were moving rapidly. Soon
- all who could get away were gone, leaving several heaped-up mounds of red
- near the gun and smaller dots of red scattered along the path of the
- retreat. With a few scattering shots the Australian sat back on his heels
- and glanced up at M. Pourmont. “Heats up pretty fast,” he remarked
- casually, indicating the machine gun.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 5
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> shout, sounded up
- the hill. All turned. Swain had mounted to the parapet of his rifle pit
- and was waving his rifle. His half dozen men, white and Chinese, followed,
- all shouting now. Over to the right, from the other pit, the lean figure
- of Jonathan Brachey appeared, followed by others. Then they started up the
- hillside. Like the retreating Lookers they seemed to move very slowly; but
- the glasses made it clear that they were running and scrambling feverishly
- up the slope, fourteen of them, pausing only at intervals to fire toward
- the houses, where a few puffs of white smoke appeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- They reached the Chinese sun, turned it around and, five or six of them,
- began running it down-hill. The others lingered, clustering together. A
- shot from one of the red heaps was met by a blow of a clubbed rifle; that
- was seen by the Australian through the glasses. There were more shots from
- the compound walls beyond.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Australian quietly returned the glasses to his chief, sighted along
- his machine gun, and sprayed bullets along those walls, first to the left
- of the raiding party, then, very carefully, to the right.
- </p>
- <p>
- M. Pourmont descended to the compound and ordered a party of coolies out
- with wheelbarrows. These began mounting the slope, obediently, painfully.
- The raiders dropped behind the little heaps of dead and waited. To the
- many watching eyes along the wall it seemed as if those deliberate coolies
- would never end their climb; inch by inch they seemed to move. Even the
- more rapidly moving gun, descending the slope, seemed to crawl. When it
- did at length draw near, the eager observers noted that the men handling
- it were all Chinese; the whites had stayed up there. Swain was there, and
- Brachey, and the others.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty witnessed the scene from an upper window of the residence with Mme.
- Pourmont and her daughters. She heard the rat-tat-tat of the machine gun;
- through a pair of glasses she saw the red-clad Lookers fall, all without
- clearly realizing that this was battle and death. It seemed a calm enough
- picture. But when Brachey started up the hill her heart stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- More and more slowly, as the climb told on the porters, the barrows moved
- up the slope; but at last they reached their destination. Then all worked
- like ants about them. Within ten minutes all were back in the compound
- creaking and squealing, each on its high center wheel, under the loads of
- shells.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty watched Brachey through the glasses. Naively she assumed that he
- would return to her after passing through such danger. And when she saw
- him drop casually into the little pit on the hillside it seemed to her
- that she couldn't wait out the day. Now that she had watched him leading
- his men straight into mortal danger—had so nearly, in her own heart,
- lost him—she began to sense the terrible power of love. All that had
- gone before in this strange relationship of theirs seemed like the play of
- children beside her present sense of him as her other self. Indeed the
- danger seemed now to be—she thought of it, in lucid moments, as a
- danger—that she should cease to care about outside opinion. Her
- heart throbbed with pride in him.
- </p>
- <p>
- At dusk the outposts were relieved. When Brachey entered the gate, Betty
- was there, waiting, a tremulous smile hovering about her tender little
- mouth and about her misty eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- He paused, in surprise and pleasure. She gave him a hand, hesitantly, then
- the other; then, impulsively, her arms went around his neck.... His men
- straggled wearily past, their day's work done. Not one looked back. She
- was almost sorry, for that and for the dusk. Arm in arm they entered the
- compound and walked to the steps of the residence.
- </p>
- <p>
- That night, three shells struck within the compound. One wrecked a corner
- of Mme. Pourmont's kitchen. Another carried away a section of galvanized
- iron roof and killed a horse. The third destroyed a tent, killing a
- Chinese woman and wounding a man and two girls. Thus, before morning, Dr.
- Cassam and her helpers were at the grim business of patching and restoring
- the piteous debris of war.
- </p>
- <p>
- By daylight the red and yellow' lines were closed about the compound.
- Shells roared by at intervals all day, and bullets rattled against the
- walls. The upper windows of the residence were barricaded now with
- sand-bags. Five more were wounded during the day, two of them white. Enemy
- trenches appeared, above and below the compound. During the following
- night M. Pourmont set a considerable force of men at work running a sap
- out to the rifle pits, and digging in other outposts on the lower slope.
- His night runners moved with difficulty, but brought in reports of feasts
- and orgies at Kang's headquarters down the valley, where, surrounded by
- his full retinue, the old Manchu was preparing to revel in slaughter. As
- the days passed, the sense of danger grew deeper; the faces one saw about
- the compound wore a dogged expression. An armed guard stood over the
- storehouses, men were killed and wounded, and women and children. They
- talked, heavily where the casual was intended, of settling down to a
- siege. They spoke of other, larger sieges; of Mafeking and Ladysmith of
- recent memory. But no one, now, mentioned the prospects of early relief.
- One night Mr. Po went out with a Chinese soldier on a scouting trip; and
- neither returned. On the following night, one of the Wei Hai Wei men was
- sent. At daybreak they found his head, wrapped in a cloth, just inside the
- gate. The enemy had crept close enough, despite the outposts, to toss it
- over the wall... After this, for a time, no word went out or came in.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 6
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>lmer Boatwright
- slept alone in a small room; his wife, Miss Hemphill and Dr. Cassin
- occupied a large room in the same building. One night, tossing on his cot,
- the prey of nightmares, Boatwright started up, cold with sweat, and sat
- shivering in the dark room. Outside sounded the pop—pop, pop—of
- the snipers. But there was another sound that had crashed in among the
- familiar noises of his dreams.
- </p>
- <p>
- It came again—a light tapping at his door. He tried to get his
- breath; then tried to call out, “Who is it?” But his voice came only in a
- whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- It wasn't his wife; she wouldn't have knocked. He had not before been
- disturbed at night; it would mean something serious, nothing good. It
- could mean nothing good.
- </p>
- <p>
- Elmer Boatwright was by no means a simple coward. He rose, shivering with
- this strange sense of cold; struck a light; and candle in hand advanced to
- the door. Here, for a moment he waited.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again the tapping sounded.
- </p>
- <p>
- He opened the door; and beheld, dimly outlined in the shadowy hall, clad
- in rags, face seamed and haggard, eyes staring out of deep hollows, the
- gigantic frame of Griggsby Doane, leaning on his old walking stick. He was
- hatless, and his hair was matted. A stubble of beard covered the lower
- half of his face. His left shoulder, under the torn coat, was bandaged
- with the caked, bloodstained remnant of his shirt.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII—THE DARK
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>lmer Boatwrights
- chin sagged a little way. For a long moment he stood motionless, making no
- sound; then, without change of expression on his gray thin face, he moved
- with a slow gliding motion backward, backward, until his knees struck the
- bed; and stood, bent forward, his palsied hand tipping the candle so far
- that the hot tallow splashed in white drops on the matting.
- </p>
- <p>
- Slowly the giant figure stirred, straightened up, came slowly into the
- room; closed the door, leaned back against it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Boatwright spoke, slowly, huskily:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It—it is you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.” It was plainly an effort for Doane to speak. “But—but I don't
- see how you could have got through.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Men do get through now and then.” Doane spoke with the quick irritability
- of the man whose powers of nervous resistance have been tried to the
- uttermost.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're wounded. You must be tired.” Boatwright was quite incoherent.
- “You'd better lie down. Here—take my bed! How did you ever find me?
- How did you get in in the first place?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll sit for a moment.” Duane lowered himself painfully to the bed.
- “Betty is here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Betty? Oh, yes! We're all safe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is she?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I don't know exactly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don't <i>know!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, Madame Pourmont has been caring for her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean that she is ill?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. Oh, no! One moment. You've been hurt. I must tell the others. You
- must have attention at once. Mary Cassin is right here—and my wife.”
- The little man moved to the door. His color was returning now; he was
- talking rapidly, out of a confused mind. “You must have had a terrible
- time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They left me for dead at the Hung Chan Gate. I crawled to the house of a
- convert.” Doane's great eyes, staring out of shadowy hollows, burned with
- tragic memories. Those eyes held Boatwright fascinated; he shivered
- slightly. “As soon as I felt able to travel I started toward T'ainan.
- Several of our native people came with me, walking at night, biding by
- day. On the way we learned that you had left. So I came here. I must see
- Betty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But not like this,” the little man blurted out. Doane's eyes wandered
- down over his muddy tattered clothing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll call the others first,” said Boatwright He set down his candle on
- the wash-stand, just inside the door, and slipped out.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane sat erect, without moving. His eyes stared at the candle and at the
- grotesque wavering shadows of the wash-howl and pitcher on the wall. At
- each small night sound he started nervously—the scratching of a
- mouse, a voice in the compound, a distant sputter of shots.
- </p>
- <p>
- Boatwright slipped back into the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They're coming,” he said breathlessly. “In a minute. Mary sleeps in most
- of her clothes anyway, these days.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it about Betty?” Doane asked sharply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh—she's quite all right. We don't see much of her, not being in
- the same house. We're all pretty busy here, these days. It's an ugly time.
- I—I was just wondering. I don't know what we can dress you in. You
- could hardly wear my things. One of the Australians is nearly as big as
- you. Perhaps in the morning...”
- </p>
- <p>
- His voice had risen a little, nearly to the querulous, as he hurriedly
- drew on his outer clothing. From the way his eyes wandered about the room
- it appeared that his thoughts had run far afield. And he was clumsy about
- the buttons. Even the intensely preoccupied Doane became aware of this,
- and for a moment studied him with a puzzled look.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little man's tongue ran on. “Mary'll fix you up for now. Sleep'll be
- the best thing. In the morning you can use my shaving things. And I'll
- look up that Australian.... There they are!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He hurried to the door. Dr. Cassin came in, greeted
- </p>
- <p>
- Griggsby Doane with a warm hand-clasp, and at once examined his shoulder.
- Boatwright she sent over to the dispensary for bandages.
- </p>
- <p>
- A moment later Mrs. Boatwright appeared, her strong person wrapped in a
- quilted robe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is a great relief,” she said. “We had given you up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Duane's eyes fastened eagerly on this woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you sent word to Betty?” he asked quickly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright looked at him for a moment, without replying, then moved
- deliberately to the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Please don't move,” cautioned Dr. Cassin, who was working on his
- shoulder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you sent word?” Doane shot the question after Mrs. Boatwright.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was no reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it?” cried Doane then.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you please!” said Dr. Cassin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Something is wrong! What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright was standing squarely before the window now, looking out
- into the dark courtyard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it? Tell me! Is she here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Really, Mr Doane”—thus the physician—“I can not work if you
- move. Yes, she is here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But why do you act in this strange way?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Dr. Cassin compressed her lips. All her working adult life had been spent
- under the direction of this man. Never before had she seen him in the
- slightest degree beaten down. She had never even seen him tired. In her
- steady, objective mind he stood for unshakable, enduring strength. But
- now, twitching nervously under her firm hands, staring out of feverish
- eyes after the uncompromising woman by the window, his huge frame
- emaciated, spent with loss of blood, with suffering and utter physical and
- nervous exhaustion, he had reached, she knew', at last, the limits of his
- great strength. He had, perhaps, even passed those limits; for there was a
- morbid condition evident in him, he seemed not wholly sane, as if the
- trials he had passed through had been too great for his iron will, or as
- if there was something else, some consuming fire in him, burning secretly
- but strongly, out of control. All this she saw and felt. His temperature
- was not dangerously high, slightly more than two degrees above normal. His
- pulse was rapid, but no weaker than was to be expected. Worry might
- explain it; worry for them all, but particularly for Betty. Though she
- found this diagnosis not wholly satisfactory. Of course it might be, after
- all, nothing more than exhaustion. Sleep was the first thing. After that
- it would be a simpler matter to study his case.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, starling up suddenly, wrenching himself free from her skilful hands,
- Doane stood over her, staring past her at the woman by the window'.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you please go to Betty,” he said, in a voice that trembled with
- feeling, “and tell her that I am here. Wake her. She must know at once.
- And try to prepare her mind—she mustn't see me first like this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a breathless pause. Then Mrs. Boatwright turned and moved
- deliberately toward the door. Then she paused.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'll see her?” cried the father. “At once?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” replied Mrs. Boatwright. “No. I am sorry. I would like to spare you
- pain at this time, Griggsby Doane. But I do not feel that I can see her.
- I'll tell you though, what I will do. I'll tell Monsieur Pourmont.” And
- she went out.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>he was closing the
- door when it abruptly opened. Elmer Boatwright stood there, looking after
- his wife as she went along the dark hallway. He came in then.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I brought the bandages,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must sit down again,” said the physician.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane, evidently bewildered, obeyed. And she began bandaging his shoulder.
- </p>
- <p>
- He even sat quietly. He seemed to be making a determined effort to control
- his thoughts. When he finally spoke he seemed almost his old self.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Elmer, something is wrong with Betty. Whatever it is, I have a right to
- know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Boatwright cleared his throat.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dr. Cassin broke the silence that followed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Doane,” she said, “sit still here and try to listen to what I am
- going to tell you. We have been disturbed about Betty. I won't attempt to
- conceal that. This Mr. Brachey—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brachey? Is he—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Please! You must keep quiet!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what is it? Tell me—now!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm trying to. Mr. Brachey came to the compound the morning after you
- left—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But he gave me his word!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You really must let me tell this in my own way. He brought the news of
- your death. He had it from Pao's yamen. He demanded that we all leave
- T'ainan at once, with him. If he gave you his word, it is probable that he
- regarded your death as a release. Well....” For a moment she bent silently
- over her task of bandaging.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. Tell me?” Doane's voice was quieter still. More and more, to
- Boatwright, who stood by the wash-stand lingering a towel, he looked,
- felt, like the old Griggsby Doane... except his eyes; they were fixed
- intently on the matting; they were wide open, staring open.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well... Mrs. Boatwright felt that it was not yet the time to go. She
- distrusted this man. So we stayed a few days longer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are not telling me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. I am coming to it. Betty... Betty felt that she couldn't let him go
- alone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In a hushed, almost a reflective voice Doane asked: “So she came with
- him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Dr. Cassin bowed. Elmer Boatwright bowed. Doane glanced up briefly, and
- took them in; then his gaze centered again on the matting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And they are here now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Betty is staying with Madame Pourmont. Mr. Brachey is living in a tent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where? What tent?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Elmer Boatwright did not wait to hear this question answered, or the rush
- of other palliative phrases that were pressing nervously on the tip of Dr
- Cas-sin's not unsympathetic tongue. Never had he heard the quiet menace in
- Griggsby Doane's voice that was in it as he almost calmly uttered those
- three words, “Where? What tent?” He could nut himself think clearly; his
- mind was a blur of fears and nervous impulses. Doane wasn't normal; that
- was plain. Dr. Cassin's bare announcement was a blow so severe that even
- as he framed that tense question he was struggling to control the blind
- wild forces that were ravaging that giant frame of his. Once wholly out of
- control, he might do anything. He might kill Brachey. Yes, easily that! It
- was in his eyes.... And so, without a plan, all confused impulses, Elmer
- Boatwright slipped out, closing the door behind him. On the outer sill of
- the little building he paused, trying desperately to think; but, failing
- in this effort, harried through the night to Brachey's tent.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was, of course, far from understanding himself. It was a moment in
- which no small dogmatic mind, once touched by the illogic of merely human
- sympathy, could hope to understand itself. Though he and Brachey were
- barely speaking, he had watched the man during the capture of the Chinese
- gun and ammunition. And since that incident he had observed that Brachey
- was steadily winning the respect of all in the compound. The confusing
- thought was that a sinner could do that. For he believed, with his wife,
- and Miss Hemphill, that Brachey and Betty had sinned. Dr. Cassin had been
- more guarded in her judgment but probably she believed it, too. Sin, of
- course, to what may without unpleasant connotation be termed the
- professionally religious mind, is a definite, really a technical fact. In
- the faith of the Boatwrights it could be atoned only by an inner
- conviction followed by the blessing of the Holy Spirit. No mere good
- conduct, no merely admirable human qualities, could save the sinner. And
- neither Betty nor Brachey had shown the slightest sign of the regenerative
- process. In Mrs. Boatwright's judgment, therefore, since she was a woman
- of utter humorless logic, of unconquerable faith in conscience, the two
- stood condemned. But her husband, in this time of tragic stress, was
- discovering certain merely human qualities that were bound to prove
- disconcerting to his professed philosophy. He wanted, now, to help
- Brachey; and yet, as he ran through courtyard after courtyard, he couldn't
- wholly subdue certain strong misgivings as to what his wife might think if
- she knew.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>efore the tent he
- hesitated. The flap was tied; he shook it, with a trembling hand. He
- heard, then, the steady breathing of the man within. He tried knocking on
- the pole, through the canvas, but without effect on the sleeper. Then,
- with a curious sensation of guilt, he reached in and untied the flap,
- above, then below; and passed cautiously in. The night was warm. Brachey
- lay uncovered, dressed, as Boatwright saw when he struck a match to make
- certain of his man, in all but coat, collar and shoes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Boatwright blew out the match. For another moment he stood wondering at
- himself; then laid a hand on the sleeper's shoulder. Brachey started up
- instantly; swung his feet to the floor; said in a surprisingly alert,
- cautious voice:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's Elmer Boatwright.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” was Brachey's reply to this. He quietly lighted the candle that
- stood on a small table by the head of his cut. Then he added the single
- word, “Well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have come on a peculiar errand, Mr. Brachey...” Boatwright was fumbling
- for words.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is little time for talk. A queer situation... let me say this—when
- you came to the mission and asked us to leave T'ainan with you it was
- under the supposition that Griggsby Doane was dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.... You mean that now... that the news was inaccurate?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Boatwright inclined his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is alive, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Another bow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is he?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well... it is... I must ask you to consider the situation calmly. It is
- difficult.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Boatwright felt the man's eyes on him, coolly surveying him. It did seem a
- bit absurd to be cautioning this strange being to be calm. Had he ever
- been otherwise? Here he was, roused abruptly from slumber, listening, and
- looking, like a judge. He said now with quick understanding:
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Boatwright's head inclined.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How did he ever get through?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We haven't heard the details yet. There's so much else.... I want to make
- it plain to you that he isn't altogether himself. He has evidently been
- through a terrible experience. He was wounded. He has some fever now, I
- believe.... Let me put it this way. He has just now learned that you are
- here—-that you—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That I brought his daughter here?” The remark was cool, clear, decisive.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well—yes. Now please understand me. He isn't himself. The news
- shocked him. I could see that. My suggestion is—well, that you move
- over to the residence for the rest of the night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see—Mr. Doane asked where you might be found, in what tent. He
- has had no time to reflect over the situation. His present mood is—well,
- as I said, not normal. I've thought that to-morrow—after he has
- slept—some—we can prevail on him to consider it calmly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean that he may attack me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well—yes. It's quite possible. Monsieur Pour-mont would take you in
- now. I'm sure. In the morning you'll be back in your trenches. That will
- give us time to...”
- </p>
- <p>
- His voice died out. His gaze anxiously followed Brachey's movements. The
- man had buttoned on his collar, and was knotting his tie before the little
- square mirror that hung on the rear tent-pole. Next he brushed his hair.
- Then he got into his coat. And then he discovered that he was in his
- stocking feet. That bit of absent-mindedness was the only sign he gave of
- excitement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I might suggest that you hurry a little,” thus Boatwright... “it's
- possible that he's on his way here now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who?” asked Brachey coolly, raising his head. “Oh—you mean Doane.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. I really think—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey waved him to be still. He moved to the tent opening, peered out
- into the night, then turned and looked straight at his caller, slightly
- pursing his lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is Mr. Doane?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was in my room. But you're not—you don't mean—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm going to see him, of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But that's impossible. He may kill you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What has that to do with it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- This blunt question proved difficult to meet. Boatwright found himself
- saying, rather weakly, “I'm sure everything can be explained later.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The time to explain is now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With this, and a slight added sound that might have been an indication of
- impatience, Brachey strode out.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or a moment
- Boatwright stood in the paralysis of fright; then, catching his breath, he
- ran out after this strangely resolute man; quickly caught up with him, but
- found himself ignored. He even talked—incoherently—as his
- short legs tried to keep pace with the swift long stride of the other. He
- didn't himself know what he was saying. Nor did he stop when Brachey's arm
- moved as if to brush him off; though he perhaps had been clinging to that
- arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey stopped, looking about.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is the house, isn't it?” he remarked; then turned in toward the
- steps.
- </p>
- <p>
- The door burst open then, and a huge shadowy figure plunged out. A woman's
- voice followed: “I must ask you to please come back, Mr. Doane. Really, if
- you—”
- </p>
- <p>
- At the name—“Mr. Doane”—Brachey stopped short (one foot was
- already on the first of the three or four steps) and stiffened, his
- shoulders drawn back, his head high, Doane, too, stopped, peering down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Doane,” said the younger man, firmly but perhaps in a slightly louder
- tone than was necessary, “I am Jonathan Brachey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A hush fell on the group of them—Brachey waiting at the bottom step,
- Boatwright just behind him. Dr. Cassin barely visible in the shadows of
- the porch, silhouetted faintly against the light of a candle somewhere
- within, and Griggsby Doane staring down in astonishment at the man who
- stood looking straight up at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey apparently was about to speak again. Perhaps he did begin.
- Boatwright found it impossible afterward to explain in precise detail just
- what took place. But the one clear fact was that Doane, with an
- exclamation that was not a word, seemed to leap down the steps, waving his
- stick about his head. There was the sound of a few heavy blows; and then
- Brachey lay huddled in a heap on the the walk, and Doane stood over him,
- breathing very hard..
- </p>
- <p>
- Dr. Cassin hurried down the steps and knelt lie-side the silent figure
- there. To Elmer Boatwright she said, briskly: “My medicine case is in your
- room. Bring it at once, please? And bring water.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Boatwright vaguely recalled, afterward, that he muttered, “I beg your
- pardon,” as he finished past Doane and ran up the steps. And he heard the
- sound of some, one running heavily toward them.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he came out the scene was curiously changed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some of the natives were there, and one or two whites. An iron lantern
- with many perforations to let out the candle-light stood on the tiles. One
- of the Chinese held another. Dr. Cassin was seated on the ground examining
- a wound on Brachey's scalp; and the man himself was struggling back toward
- consciousness, moving his arms restlessly, and muttering.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the voice that dominated the little group that stood awkwardly about
- was the voice of M. Pourmont.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane had sunk down on the steps, his head in his hands. And over him,
- somewhat out of breath, gesturing emphatically with raised forefinger, the
- engineer was speaking as follows:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Doane, it gives me ze great plaisir to know zat you do not die.
- To you here I offair ze vel-come viz all my 'eart. But zis I mus' say. It
- is here <i>la guerre</i>. It is I who am here ze commandair. An' I now'
- comman' you, Alonsieur Doane, zer mus' be here no more of ze mattair
- personel. We here fight togezzer, as one, not viz each ozzer. You have
- made ze attack on a gentleman zat mus' be spare' to us, a gentleman ver'
- strong, ver' brave, who fear nozzing at all. It is not pairmit' zat you
- make 'arm at Monsieur Brashayee. Zis man is one I need. It is on 'im zat I
- lean.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Here Boatwright found himself breaking in, all eagerness, all nerves:
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you had only known how it was! Mr. Brachey insisted on coming straight
- to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Monsieur Boatright, if you please! I mus' have here ze quiet! Monsieur
- Doane, you vill go at once to bed. It is so I order you. Go at once to
- bed!” Doane slowly lifted his head and looked at M. Pour-munt. “Very
- well,” he said quietly. “You are right, of course.” On these last few
- words his voice broke, but he at once recovered control of it. He rose,
- with an effort, moved a few slow steps, hesitated, then got painfully down
- on one knee beside the limp groaning figure on the walk. He looked
- directly at Dr. Cassin, as he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is he badly hurt?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't think so,” replied the physician simply, wholly herself. “The
- skull doesn't seem to be fractured. We may find some concussion, of
- course.” Doane's breath whistled convulsively inward. He knelt there,
- silent, watching the deft fingers work. Then he said—under his
- breath, but audibly enough: “What an awful thing to do! What a terrible
- thing to do!” And got up.
- </p>
- <p>
- Boatwright hurried to help him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll go with you, Elmer,” said Doane.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX—LIVING THROUGH
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Griggsby Doane
- moved, pain shot through his lame muscle. A vaguely heavy anxiety clouded
- his brain, engaged as it still was with the specters of confusedly ugly
- dreams.
- </p>
- <p>
- The speckled area overhead was gradually coming clear; it appeared to be a
- plastered ceiling, very small; a little cell of a place... oh, yes, Elmer
- Boatwright's room!
- </p>
- <p>
- Faintly through the open window at the foot of the bed came the sound of a
- distant, shot; another; a rattle of them. And other, nearer shots. Then a
- slow whistling shriek and a crash. Then the rattle of a machine gun, quite
- clear. Then a lull.
- </p>
- <p>
- He sensed a presence; felt rather than heard low breathing; with an effort
- that was as much of the will as of the body he turned his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty was sitting there, close by the bed, gently smiling. Almost
- painfully his slow eyes took her in. She bent over and kissed him, then
- her little hand nestled in his big one. They talked a little; he in a
- natural enough manner, if very grave, spoke of his joy in finding her
- safe. But as he spoke his mind, not yet wholly awake, took on a morbid
- activity. Did she know what he had done in the night? Had they told her?
- Anxiously, as she answered him, he searched her delicately pretty face.
- How young she was! Dwelling amid tragedy, in a degree sobered by it, the
- buoyancy of youth glowed in her brown eyes, in the texture of her skin, in
- the waving masses of fine hair, in the soft vividness of her voice; the
- touch of tragedy would, after all, rest lightly on her slim shoulders. To
- her the world was young; of the bitter <i>impasse</i> of middle age she
- knew no hint. Men loved her, of course. Men had died for less than she....
- He pondered, swiftly, gloormly, the problem her very existence presented.
- And he looked on her and spoke with a finer tenderness than any he had
- before felt toward any living creature, even toward the wife who had left
- her soul on earth in the breast of this girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- He decided that they hadn't told her. After all, they wouldn't. They were,
- when all was said, adult folk. He couldn't himself tell her. But his
- predicament was pitiful. He knew now, from the honest love in her eyes,
- that not the least black of his sins had been the doubting her. Never
- again could he do that. But this realization brought him to the verge of
- an attitude toward Jonathan Braehey that it was impossible for him to
- entertain; the mere thought of that man roused emotions that he could not
- control. But emotions, all sorts, must be controlled, of course; on no
- other understanding can life be lived. If direct effort of will is
- insufficient, then counter-activity must be set up.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty protested when he told her he meant to get up at once. But it was
- afternoon. He assured her that his wound was not serious; Dr. Cassin had
- admitted that, and he had slept deeply. H is muscles were lame; but that
- was an added reason for exercise.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had brought in some of the clothing of the large Australian. As he
- pieced out a costume, he shaped a policy He couldn't, at once, fit into
- the life of the compound. He couldn't face Brachey. Not yet. The only hope
- of getting through these days of his passion lay in keeping himself
- desperately active. He weighed a number of plans, finally discarding all
- but one. Then he rang for a servant; and sent, while he ate a solitary
- breakfast, a chit to M. Pourmont.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he engineer
- received him at three. Neither spoke of the incident that had brought them
- together in the night. To Doane, indeed, it was now, in broad daylight and
- during most of the time, but a nightmare, unreal and impossible. During
- the moments when it did come real, he could only set his strong face and
- wait out the turbulence and bewilderment it stirred in him.
- </p>
- <p>
- M. Pourmont found him very nearly himself; which was good. He seemed,
- despite the bandaged shoulder and the thinner face, the Griggsby Doane of
- old. But his proposal—-he was grimly bent on it—was nothing
- less than to make the effort, that night, to get through to the telegraph
- station at Shau T'ing.
- </p>
- <p>
- M. Fourmunt took the position that the thing couldn't be done. After
- losing two natives in the attempt, he had decided to conserve his meager
- manpower and fall back on the certain fact that the legations knew of the
- siege and were doubtless moving toward action of some sort. Besides, he
- added, Duane with his courage and his extensive knowledge of the local
- situation was the man above all others he could least well spare.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane, however, pressed his point. “Getting through the lines will be
- difficult, but not impossible,” he said. “Remember I did get through last
- night. I believe I can do it again to-night. Even if I should be captured
- they may hesitate to kill me. I would ask nothing better than to be taken
- before Kang. He would have to listen to me, I think. And if I do succeed
- in establishing communication with Peking I may be able to stir them to
- action. The Imperial Government can hardly admit that they are backing
- Kang. It may even be possible to force them, through diplomatic pressure
- alone, to repudiate him and use their own troops to overthrow him. But
- first Peking must have the facts.”
- </p>
- <p>
- M. Pourmont smiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you vill step wiz me,” he said, and led the way down a corridor to his
- spacious dining-room. There on the table, stood a large basket heaped with
- apples and pears. “Vat you t'ink, Monsieur Doane! But yesterday comes <i>un
- drapeau bianc</i> to ze gate viz a let-tair from zis ol' Kang. He regret
- vair' much zat ve suffair <i>ici ze derangement</i>, an' he hope zat vair'
- soon ve are again <i>confortable</i>. In Heaven, perhaps he mean! <i>Chose
- donnante!</i> An' he sen' <i>des fruits</i> viz ze <i>compliments of Son
- Excellence</i> Kang Hsu to Monsieur Pourmont. <i>Et je vous demande,
- qu'est-ce que cela fait?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane considered this puzzle; finally shook his head over it. It was very
- Chinese. Kang doubtless believed that through it he was deluding the
- stupid foreigners and escaping responsibility for his savage course.
- </p>
- <p>
- Finally Doane won M. Pourmont's approval for his forlorn sally. He was, in
- a wild way, glad.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the few hours left to him he must work rapidly, think hard. That,
- too, was good. He decided to write a will. If he had little money to leave
- Betty, at least there were things of his and her mother's. Elmer
- Boatwright would help him. And he must tell Betty he was going. It was
- curiously hard to face her, hard to meet the eye of his own daughter. He
- winced at the thought.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had returned to the residence before him. He asked for her now.
- </p>
- <p>
- M. Pourmont, giving a moment more to considering this man, whom he had
- long regarded with a respect he did not feel toward all the missionaries,
- wondered, as he sent word to the young lady, what might underlie that
- strange quarrel of the early morning. The only explanation that occurred
- to him he promptly dismissed, for it involved the little Mademoiselle's
- name in a manner which he could not permit to be considered. M. Pourmont
- was a shrewd man; and he knew that the Mademoiselle was ashamed of
- nothing. Nothing was wrong there. Like his wife he had already learned to
- love the busy earnest girl. And then, leaving M. Doane in the
- reception-room waiting for her, he returned to his study and dismissed the
- whole matter from his mind. For the siege was cruel business. One by one,
- some one every day, men and women and children, were dying. The living had
- to subsist on diminishing rations, for he had never foreseen housing and
- feeding so large a number. There were problems—of discipline and
- morale, of tactics, of sanitation, of burying the dead—that must be
- met and solved from hour to hour.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the whole, as he settled again into his endless, urgent task, M.
- Pourmont was not sorry that M. Doane had won his consent to this last
- desperate effort to reach those inhumanly deliberate white folk up at
- Peking; men whose minds dwelt with precedents and policies while their
- fellows, down here at Ping Yang, on a hillside, held off with diminishing
- strength the destruction that seemed, at moments, certain to fall.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>oane, watching
- Betty as she entered the room attired in a long white apron over her
- simple dress, knew that he must again beg the question that lay between
- them. He could no more listen to the burden of her heart than to the agony
- of his own. Sooner or later, if he lived, he would have to work it out,
- decide about his life. If he lived....
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear,” he said, quickly for him, holding her hand more tightly than he
- knew, “I have some news which I know you will take bravely.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He could feel her steady eyes on him. He hurried on. “I am going out again
- to-night. There seems a good chance that I may get through to Shau T'ing,
- with messages. I'm going to try.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His desire was to speak rapidly on, and then go. But he had to pause at
- this. He heard her exclaim softly—“Oh, Dad!” And then after a
- silence—“I'm not going to make it hard for you. Of course I
- understand. Any of us may come to the end, of course, any moment. We've
- just got to take it as it comes. But—I—it does seem as if—after
- all you've been through, Dad—as if—”
- </p>
- <p>
- He felt himself shaking his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” he said. “No. It's my job, dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well, Dad. Then you must do it. I know. But I do wish you could have
- a day or two more to rest. If you could”—this wistfully—“perhaps
- they'd let me off part of the time to take care of you. You know, I'm
- nursing. I'd be stern. You'd have to sleep a lot, and eat just \vhat I
- gave you.” She patted his arm as she spoke; then added this: “Of course
- it's not the time to think of personal things. But there's one thing I've
- got to tell you pretty soon, Dad. A strange experience has come to me.
- It's puzzling. I can't see the way very clearly. But it's very wonderful.
- I believe it's right—really right. It's a man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She rushed on with it. “I wanted you to meet him to-night. He's—out
- in the trenches, all day, up the hill. We're expecting word—a
- cablegram—when they get through to us. And when that comes, I'd have
- to tell you all about it. He'll come to you then. But I—well, I had
- to tell you this much. It's been a pretty big experience, and I don't like
- to think of going through it like this without your even knowing about it
- from me, and knowing, too, no matter what they may say”—her voice
- wavered—“that it's—it's—all right.” Her hands reached
- suddenly up toward his shoulders; she clung to him, like the child she
- still, in his heart, seemed.
- </p>
- <p>
- He could trust himself only to speak the little words of comfort he would
- have used with a child. He felt that he was not helping her; merely
- standing there, helpless in the grip of a fate that seemed bent on racking
- his soul to the final Emit of his spiritual endurance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This won't do,” she said. “I have no right to give way. They need me in
- the hospital. I shall think of you every minute, Dad. I'm very proud of
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She kissed him and rushed away. He walked back to Elmer Boatwright's room
- fighting off a sense of unreality that had grown so strong as to be
- alarming. It was all a nightmare now—the manly dogged faces in the
- compound, the wailing sounds from the native quarter, the intermittent
- shots, the smells, the very sun that blazed down on the tiling. Nothing
- seemed really to matter. He knew well enough, in a corner of his mind,
- that this mood was the most dangerous of all. It lay but a step from
- apathy; and apathy, to such a nature as his, would mean the end.
- </p>
- <p>
- So he busied himself desperately. The simple will he left for Boatwright
- with instructions that it was to be given to Betty in the event of his
- death. It seemed that the little man was one of a machine-gun crew and
- could not be reached until well on in the evening; he had turned fighter,
- like the others.
- </p>
- <p>
- He sewed up his tattered knapsack and filled it with a sort of iron
- ration. He wrote letters, including a long one to Henry Withery, addressed
- in care of Dr. Hidderleigh's office at Shanghai. He framed with care the
- messages that were to go over the wires to Peking. He ate alone, and
- sparingly. And early, as soon as darkness settled over the scene of petty
- but bitter warfare, he clipped out of the compound and disappeared,
- carrying no weapon but his walking stick.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XX—LIGHT
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>OANE walked,
- carelessly erect, to a knoll something less than a hundred yards northeast
- of the compound and off to the left of the ride pits. Here he stood for a
- brief time, listening. He purposed going out through the lines as he had
- come in through them, by crawling, hiding, feeling his way foot by foot.
- The line was thinnest in front of the rifle pits, and just to the left
- where the upper machine gun commanded a defile.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had allowed two hours for the journey through the lines, but it
- consumed nearly four. At one point he lay for an hour behind a stone
- trough while a squad of Lookers built a fire and brewed tea. A recurring
- impulse was to walk calmly in among those yellow men and go down fighting.
- It seemed as good a way as any to go. He found it necessary to hold with a
- strong effort of will to the thought of his fellow's in the compound; that
- to save them, and to save Betty, he must carry through.
- </p>
- <p>
- Toward one o'clock in the morning, now well to the eastward of the
- besieging force, he swung into his stride. It seemed, in the retrospect,
- absurdly like the play of children to be hiding and crawling about the
- hillsides. But he was glad now that he had somehow, painfully, kept his
- head. Barring the unforeseen, the diplomatic gentlemen up at Peking would
- find the news awaiting them when they came to their desks in the morning.
- After that noting that he might do would greatly matter. He could follow
- these powerfully recurring impulses if he chose; let the end come. That
- was now his greatest desire. Life had become quite meaningless. Except for
- Betty....
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>hau T'ing was but
- another of the innumerable rural villages that dot northern China. Though
- there were a railway station, and sidings, and a quaintly American water
- tank set high on posts. The inns were but the familiar Oriental
- caravansaries; no modern hotel, no “Astor House,” had sprung up as yet to
- care for newly created travel.
- </p>
- <p>
- As he approached the stream that ran through a loess canyon a mile or more
- west of the village he glimpsed, ahead, a group of soldiers seated about a
- fire. Just behind them were stacks of rifles; this much he saw and
- surmised with the help of the firelight. And the first glow of dawn was
- breaking in the east. He left the highway and swung around through the
- fields, passing between scattered grave mounds from whose tops the white
- joss papers fluttered in the gray twilight like timid little ghosts.
- </p>
- <p>
- He crossed the gorge by the old suspension footbridge, with the crumbling
- memorial arches at either end bearing, each characteristic inscriptions
- suggestive of happiness and peace. Looking down-stream he could dimly see
- that the railway bridge lay, a tangle of twisted steel, in the stream,
- leaving the abutments of white stone rearing high in the air with wisps of
- steel swinging aimlessly from the tops.
- </p>
- <p>
- He half circled the village, and waited outside the eastern gate until the
- massive doors swung open at sunrise.
- </p>
- <p>
- He went to the leading inn, and gave up an hour to eating the food in his
- knapsack and cleaning his mud-dyed clothing. The innkeeper informed him,
- when he brought the boiled water, that another white man had been there
- for three days. After this Doane went down to the station. A solitary
- engine was puffing and clanking among the sidings, apparently making up a
- train.
- </p>
- <p>
- A number of the blue-turbaned military police stood sentry-go here and
- there about the yard, each with fixed bayonet. Within the room that was at
- once ticket office and telegraph station sat the Chinese agent cheerfully
- contemplating a slack day.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane wrote out his messages, and stood over the man until they were sent;
- then walked slowly back toward the inn. His task, really, was done. He
- would wait until night, of course; there might be replies. But at most his
- only further service would be in carrying hopeful messages to the
- beleaguered folk at Ting Yang. Beyond that he would be but one more human
- unit to fight and to be fed. Debit and credit, they seemed just about to
- balance, those two items. Fastening his door he stretched out on the <i>kang</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was awakened at the close of day by the innkeeper bringing food. The
- man set out two plates on the dusty old table. Doane sat on the edge of
- the <i>kang</i> and drowsily wondered why. He had slept heavily. He stood
- up; moved about the room; he was only a little stiff. Indeed his strength
- was surely returning. He felt almost his old self, physically.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a knock at the door. In Chinese he called, “Enter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The door slowly opened, and a drab little man came in, walking with a
- slight limp, and stood looking at him out of dusty blue eyes. He carried a
- packet of papers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Grigg!” he exclaimed softly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henry Withery!” cried Doane, “What on earth are you doing here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery smiled, and laid hat and packet on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I've arranged to dine with you,” he explained. “You won't mind?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course not, Henry. But why are you here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My plans were changed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Evidently. Do sit down.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I came back to find you. I've been waiting here for a chance to get
- through. We've worried greatly, of course. A rumor came from the Chinese
- that you were killed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I nearly was,” said Doane quietly. A cloud had crossed his face as he
- listened. At every point, apparently, at each fresh contact with life, he
- was to be brought face to face with his predicament. It would be pitiless
- business, of course, all the way through, for the severest judge of all he
- had yet to face dwelt within his own breast; long after the world had
- forgotten, that judge would be pronouncing sentence upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You got through to Shanghai?” he asked abruptly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery, touched by his appearance, a little disturbed by his nervously
- abrupt manner, inclined his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it's out, I suppose. What are they saying about me, Henry? Really,
- you'd better tell me. I've got to live through this thing, you know. I may
- as well have the truth at once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery lowered his eyes; fingered the chopsticks that lay by his plate.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” he said slowly. “No, Grigg, it's not out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you know of it. Surely others do, then. And they'll talk. It's the
- worst way. It'll run wild. I'd rather face a church trial than that.” He
- was himself unaware that he had been constantly brooding upon this aspect
- of his trouble, yet the words came snapping out as if he had thought of
- nothing else.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, Grigg,” said Withery, in the same deliberately thoughtful way, “I
- want you to let me talk. I've come way back here just to do that.
- Hidderleigh showed me your letter. Then in my presence, he destroyed it. I
- have promised him I would speak of it to no one but you. ... Neither you
- nor I could have foreseen just how Hidderleigh would take this. He is, of
- course, as he has always been, a dogmatic thinker. But like others of us,
- he has grown some with the years. He's less narrow, Grigg. He knows you
- pretty well—your ability, your influence. He respects you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Respects me?” Doane nearly laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. He sees as clearly as you or I could that any human creature may
- slip. And he knows that no single slip is fatal. Grigg, he wants you to go
- back and take up your work.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane could not at once comprehend this astonishing statement. He was
- deeply moved. Withery by his simple friendliness had already done much to
- restore in his mind, for the moment, a normal feeling for life.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But he feels, Grigg, that you ought to marry again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane shook his head abruptly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” he cried, “I can't consider that. Not now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As he said to me, Grigg, 'It is not good for man to be alone!'”
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery let the subject rest here, and asked about the fighting. The whole
- outside world was watching these Hansi hills, it appeared. The Imperial
- Government was already disclaiming responsibility. Troops were on their
- way, from Hong Kong, from the Philippines, from Indo-China.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be a month or so before they can get out here,” mused Doane.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! At best.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Meantime, the compound will fall at the first really determined attack.
- They've been afraid of Pour-mont's machine guns—I heard some of
- their talk last night, and the night before—but let Kang come to a
- decision to drive them in and they'll go. That will settle it in a day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will they have the courage?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think so. You and I know these people, Henry. They're brave enough. All
- they lack is leadership, and organization. And this crowd have a strong
- fanaticism to hold them up. Once let Kang appeal to their spirit and
- they'll have to go in to save face. For if they can't be seen the only
- danger is of an accident here and there. And, for that matter, Kang may
- simply be waiting for Pourmont to use up his ammunition. It can't last a
- great while, not in a real siege, which this is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By the way,” said Withery a little later, “here is a lot of mail for
- Pourmont's people. It's been accumulating. There was no way to get it to
- them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll take it in,” said Doane.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You? You don't mean that you're going to ran that gauntlet again, Grigg?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.” He untied the packet, and looked through the little heap of
- envelopes. One was a cablegram addressed to Jonathan Brachey. He held it
- in tense fingers; gazed at it long while the pulse mounted in his temples.
- “Oh, yes,” he said, almost casually then, “I'm going hack in. They'll be
- looking for me.” But his thoughts were running wild again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery said, before he left, “I'm going to ask you not to answer
- Hidderleigh's request until you've thought it over carefully. My own
- feeling is that he is right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Suppose,” said Doane, “my final decision should be—as I think it
- will—that I can't go back. What will they do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I've promised him, I'll go in and take up your work. As soon as this
- trouble is over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That knocks out your year at home, Henry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but what matters it? Very likely I shall find more happiness in
- working, after all. That isn't what disturbs me.... Grigg, if you leave
- the church it will be, I think, the severest blow of my life. I—I'm
- going to tell you this—for years I've leaned on you. You didn't
- know, but I've made a better job of my life for knowing that you too were
- hard at it, just beyond the mountains. We haven't seen much of each other,
- of late years, but I've felt you there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane's stern face softened as he looked at his old friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I've felt you, Henry,” he replied gently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your blunders are those of strength, not of weakness, Grigg. Perhaps your
- greatest mistake has been in leaning a little too strongly on yourself.
- What I want you to consider now is giving self up, in every way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Duane shook his great head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Henry—no! I've given to the uttermost for years. And it has
- wrecked my life—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, Grigg! Don't say that!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well—put it as you will. The trouble has been that I was doing
- wrong all the time—for years—as I told you back in Tiaman, I
- was doing the wrong thing. It led, all of it, to sin. For that sin, of
- course, I've suffered, and must suffer more. The best reason I could think
- of for going back would be to keep this added burden off your shoulders.
- But that would be wrong too. It's getting a little clearer to me. I know
- now that I've got to face my doubts and my sins, take them honestly for
- whatever they may be. Each life must function in its own way. In the
- eagerness of youth I chose wrong. I must now take the consequences.
- Good-by, now! There's barely time to slip through the lines before dawn.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Withery rose. “I'll go with you,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. I won't allow that. You haven't the strength. You're not an outdoor
- man We should have to separate anyway; together we should almost certainly
- be caught. No. You stay here and get word through to them from day to day
- if you can find any one to undertake it. It will mean everything to them
- to hear from the outside world. Good luck!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He took the packet and went out.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>gain it was dawn
- Griggsby Doane stood on the crest of a terraced hi'! looking off into the
- purple west. But a few miles farther on lay Ping Yang.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beneath him, near the foot of the slope, four coolies were already at the
- radiating windlasses of a well, and tiny streams of yellow water were
- trickling along troughs in the loess toward this and that field, where
- bent silent farmers waited clod in hand to guide the precious fluid from
- furrow to furrow. Still farther down, along the sunken highway, a few
- venturesome muleteers led their trains. No outposts in the Looker uniform
- were to be seen. And he heard no shots. It would be a lull, then, in the
- fighting.
- </p>
- <p>
- He descended the hill, dropped into the road, and walked, head high,
- toward Ping Yang. As he swung along he heard, far off, the shots his ears
- had strained for on the hill; one, another, then a spattering volley; but
- he walked straight on. The Mongols and Chihleans on the road gave him no
- more than the usual glance of curiosity. He passed through a village; Ping
- Yang would be the next. The railway grade—here an earthen rampart,
- there a cutting, yonder a temporary wooden trestle—paralleled the
- highway, cutting into the heart of old China like a surgeon's knife,
- letting out superstition and festering poverty, letting n the strong
- fluids of commerce and education. He felt the health of it profoundly,
- striding on alone through the cool, dear morning air. It was imperfect, of
- course, this Western civilization that he had so nearly come to doubt;
- yet, materialistic in its nature or not, it was the best that the world
- had to offer at the moment. It was what the amazing instinct in man to
- push on, to better his body and his brain, had brought the world to. It
- seemed, now, a larger expression of the vitality he felt within himself,
- the force that he had so lavishly expended in a direction that was wrong
- for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He felt this, which could not have been less than the beginning of a new
- focus of his misdirected, scattered powers, and yet he walked straight on
- toward the red army that was sworn to kill all the whites. And though his
- brain still told him, coolly, without the slightest sense of personal
- concern, that he would probably be slain within the hour, his heart, or
- his rising spirit, as calmly dismissed the report.
- </p>
- <p>
- It might come, of course. He literally didn't care. Death might come at
- any moment to any man. The present moment was his; and the next, and the
- next, until the last whenever it should come. He walked with a thrilling
- sense of power, above the world. For the world, life itself, was suddenly
- coming back to him. He had been ill—for years, he knew now—of
- a sick faith. Now he was well. If the old dogmatic religion was gone, he
- was sensing a new personal religion of work, of healthy functioning, of
- unquestioning service in the busy instinctive life of the world. He would
- turn, not away from life to a mystical Heaven, but straight into life at
- its busiest, head up, as now on the old highway of Hansi, trusting his
- instinct as a human creature. No matter how difficult the start he would
- plunge in and live his life out honestly. Betty remained the problem; he
- knit his brows at the thought; but the new flame in his heart blazed
- steadily higher. Whatever the problems, he couldn't he headed now.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a morbid, sick fool I've been!” It was the cry of a heart new born
- to health. It occurred to him, then, as he heard his own voice, that this
- new sense of light had come to him as suddenly as that other light that
- smote Paul on the Damascus road. It had the force, as he considered it
- now, of a miracle....
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he road was
- blocked ahead. Drawing near, he saw beyond the mules and horses and men of
- the highway and the curious, pressing country folk a considerable number
- of yellow turbans crowding the road canyon. There must have been a hundred
- or more, with many rifle muzzles slanting crazily above them. After a
- moment the rabble broke toward him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane did not wait for them to discover him, but raising his stick and
- calling for room to pass he walked in among them. He stood head and
- shoulders above them, a suddenly appearing white giant whom a few resisted
- at first, but more gave way to as he pushed firmly through. Emerging on
- the farther side he walked on his way without so much as looking back. And
- not a shot had been fired.
- </p>
- <p>
- The road wound its way between steep walls of loess, so that ii was
- impossible at any point to see far ahead. He came upon other, smaller
- groups of the Lookers. Only one man, the largest of them, threatened him,
- but as the man raised the butt of his rifle Doane snatched the weapon from
- him and knocked him down with it; then tossed it aside and strode on as
- before.
- </p>
- <p>
- He came at length to a scenic arch in a notch. Through the arch Ping Yang
- could be seen in its valley.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stopped and looked. Near at hand were the tents of some of the Looker
- soldiery; beyond lay the village; and beyond that on the hillside, the
- compound of the company, lying as still as if it were deserted. There were
- no puffs of smoke, no sounds along the village street; between the
- outlying houses small figures appeared to Le bustling about, but they made
- no noise that could be heard up here. The scene was uncanny.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane, however, went on down the hill. None of the Lookers were in
- evidence now on the winding street, but only the silent, curious
- villagers; this until two soldiers in blue came abruptly out of a house;
- and then two others firmly holding by the arms a man in red and yellow
- with an embroidered square on the breast of his tunic that marked him as
- an officer of rank. Other soldiers followed, one bearing a large curved
- sword.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane stopped to watch.
- </p>
- <p>
- Without ceremony the officer's wrists were tied behind his back. He was
- kicked to his knees. A blue soldier seized his queue and with it jerked
- his head forward. The swordsman, promptly, with one clean blow', severed
- the neck; then wiped his sword on the dead man's clothing and marched away
- with the others, carrying the head.
- </p>
- <p>
- Duane shivered slightly, compressed his lips, and, paler, walked on. He
- passed other blue soldiers in the heart of the village, and a row of
- Lookers standing without arms. Emerging from the straggling groups of
- houses beyond the village wall he took the road up the hill. Away up the
- slope he could see the men of the outposts standing and sitting on the
- parapets of the rifle pits. At the gate of the compound he called out.
- </p>
- <p>
- The gate opened, and closed behind him. Within stood men of the garrison,
- and women, and behind them the Chinese. All looked puzzled. Many tongues
- greeted him at once, eagerly questioning.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked about from one to another of the thin weary faces with burning
- eyes that hung on his slightest gesture, and slowly shook his head. He
- could answer none of their questions. He was searching for one face that
- meant more to him than all the others. It was not there. He walked on
- toward the house occupied by the Boatwrights. Just as he was turning in
- there he saw Betty. She was tunning across from the residence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “On, Dad!” she cried. “You're back!” Her arms were around his neck. “How
- wonderful! And you're well—like your old self.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0357.jpg" alt="0357 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0357.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- “Better than my old self, dear,” he said, with a tender smile, and kissed
- her forehead.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can't stay, Dad. I just ran out. Wasn't it strange—I saw you from
- the window! But what's happened? What is it? Everybody's so puzzled. Have
- the troops come?”.
- </p>
- <p>
- He shook his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it's something. Everybody's terribly excited.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't understand it myself, dear. Though I walked through it,
- apparently.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, look! They're opening the gate! What is it?” She hopped with
- impatience, like a child, and clapped her hands. “Oh, I mustn't stay! But
- tell m, do you think this dreadful business is over?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe it is, Betty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She ran back to her post. And he returned to the gate.
- </p>
- <p>
- An odd little cavalcade was moving deliberately up the hill. In front
- marched a soldier in blue bearing a large white flag (an obviously Western
- touch, this). Behind him came a squad in column of fours, on foot and
- unarmed; then a green sedan chair with four pole-men; behind this three
- pavilions with carved wooden tops, of the sort carried in wedding
- processions, each with four bearers; and last another squad of foot
- soldiers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just outside the gate they came to a halt. The soldiers formed in line on
- either side of the road. An officer advanced and asked permission to
- enter. This was granted. At once the chairmen set down their burden. The
- carved door opened, and a young Chinese gentleman stepped out. He was
- tall, slim, with large spectacles; and moved with a quiet dignity that
- amounted to a distinction of bearing. His long robe was of shimmering blue
- silk embroidered in rose and gold; and the embroidered emblem on his
- breast exhibited the silver pheasant of a mandarin of the fifth class. On
- his head, the official, bowl-shaped straw hat with red tassel was
- surmounted with a ball or button of crystal an inch in diameter set in a
- mount of exquisitely worked gold. His girdle clasp also was of worked gold
- with a plain silver button. The shoes that appeared beneath the hem of his
- robe were richly embroidered and had thick white soles.
- </p>
- <p>
- Calmly, deliberately, he entered the compound. One of the engineers, an
- American, addressed him in the Mandarin tongue. He replied, in a deep
- musical voice, with a pronounced intonation that gave this mellow
- language, to a casual ear, something the sound of French.
- </p>
- <p>
- The engineer bowed, and together they moved toward the residence, where a
- somewhat mystified M. Pourmont awaited them. But first the mandarin turned
- and signaled to the pavilion bearers, who still waited outside the gate.
- These came in now, and it became evident that the ornate structures were
- laden with gifts. There were platters of fruits and of sweetmeats, bottles
- of wine, cooked dishes, and small caskets, some carved, others lacquered,
- that might have contained jewels.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane, quietly observing the scene, found something familiar in the
- appearance of the envoy. Something vaguely associated with the judge's
- yamen at T'ainan-fu. Certainly, on some occasion, he had seen the man. He
- stood for a brief time watching the two figures, a white man in stained
- brown clothing, unkempt of appearance but vigorous in person, walking
- beside the elegant young mandarin, appearing oddly crude beside him,
- curiously lacking in the grace that marked every slightest movement of the
- silk-clad Oriental; and the picture dwelt for a time among his thoughts—the
- oldest civilization in the world, and the youngest. Crude vigor, honest
- health, contrasted with a decadence that clung meticulously to every
- slightest subtlety of etiquette. And behind the two, towering above the
- heads of the ragged bearers, the curving pointed roofs of the three
- pavilions, still gaily bizarre in form and color despite the weatherbeaten
- condition of the paint; a childish touch, suggestive of circus day in an
- American village. Suggestive, too, whimsically, of the second childhood of
- the oldest race.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane, reflecting thus, slowly followed them to the residence.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 5
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>onathan Brachey
- sat moodily on the parapet. Down below, the compound (a crowded mass of
- roofs within a rectangle of red-gray wail) and below that the straggling
- village, stood out as blocked-in masses of light and shadow under the
- slanting rays of the morning sun.
- </p>
- <p>
- A French youth, beside him, polishing his rifle with a greasy rag, looked
- up with a question.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey shook his head; he had no information. He looked over toward the
- other pit. The Australian in command there (three nights earlier they had
- buried Swain) waved a carelessly jocular hand and went on nibbling a
- biscuit.
- </p>
- <p>
- The thing might be over; it might not. Brachey found himself almost
- perversely disturbed, however, at the prospect of peace. He had supposed
- that he hated this dirty, bloody business. He saw no glory in fighting,
- merely primitive blood-lust; an outcropping of the beast in man; evidence
- that in his age-long struggle upward from the animal stage of existence
- man had yet a long, long way to climb. But from the thought of losing this
- intense preoccupation, of living quietly with the emphasis again placed on
- personal problems, he found himself shrinking. What a riddle it was!
- </p>
- <p>
- He spoke shortly to the French youth, took up his own rifle, and led the
- way up the hill to the bullet-spattered farm compounds. They were quite
- deserted. Only the huddled, noxious dead remained. He went on up the
- hillside, searching all the hiding-places of those red and yellow vandals
- who had filled his thoughts by day and haunted his sleep at, night; but
- all were empty of human life. A great amount of rubbish was left—cooking
- utensils, knives, old Chinese-made rifles and swords, bits of uniforms. He
- found even a jade ring and a few strings of brass cash.
- </p>
- <p>
- Weary of spirit he returned to the rifle pits only to find these, too,
- deserted. From the upper redoubt a man was waving, beckoning. Apparently
- the compound gate was open, and a group of soldiers standing in line
- outside; but these soldiers wore blue. Through his glasses he surveyed the
- moving dots near the village; none wore red and yellow.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man was still waving from the redoubt. The French youth, he found now,
- was looking up at him, that eager question still in his eyes. He nodded.
- With a sudden wild shout the boy ran down the hill, waving bis rifle over
- his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- So it was peace—sudden, enigmatic. Brachey sat again on the parapet.
- Griggsby Doane was doubtless there (Brachey knew nothing of his journey;
- he had not seen Betty. What could he say to him, to the father whom Betty
- loved?
- </p>
- <p>
- This wouldn't do, of course. He rose, a set dogged expression on his long,
- always serious face, and went slowly down the hill; and with only a nod to
- this person and that got to his tent. Once within, he closed the flaps and
- sat on the cot. He discovered then that he had brought with him one of the
- strings of cash, and jingled it absently against his knee.
- </p>
- <p>
- Voices sounded outside. Men were standing before the tent.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the flaps parted, and he beheld the spectacled, pleasantly smiling
- face of Mr. Po.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh,” he said, more shortly than he knew. “Come in!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Po stepped inside, letting the flaps fall together behind him. He made
- a splendid figure in blue and gold, as he removed the round hat with its
- red plume and crystal ball and laid it on the rude table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm glad to see you're still sound of life and limb and fresh as a
- daisy,” he remarked cheerfully. “With permission I will sit here a bit for
- informal how-do chin-chin, and forget from minute to minute all ceremonial
- dam-foolishness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXI—THE SOULS OF MEN
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ELL,” continued
- Mr. Po expansively, “I've certainly had a pretty kettle of fish about my
- ears.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey filled and lighted his pipe, and yielded his senses for a moment
- to the soothing effect of the fragrant smoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is the fighting really over?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But why? What's happened?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Po indulged in his easy, quiet laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To begin at first blush,” he said, settling comfortably back as If
- launched on a long narrative, “while out on scouting leap in dark I
- stumbled plump on Lookers, and by thunder, it was necessary to trust
- broken reed of lying on stomach hi open ground!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They caught you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! For hell of a while I held breath, but with dust in nose it
- became unavoidable to sneeze. I would then have lost head promptly but
- officer of yamen entourage of Kang spotted me and said, 'What the devil
- you doing here!' With which I explain of course that I escape by hook or
- crook from white devils. Then I appear before general and demand audience
- discussion with old Kang. Old reprobate received me and made long speech.
- Perfectly absurd! He said I must go to T'ainan-fu as his particular guest
- and speak to His Excellency Pao Ting Chuan his message, like this:
- </p>
- <p>
- “'For many years I have known and respected your abilities as scholar and
- statesman of huge understanding ability. We have both seen, you and I,
- continuing unprincipled encroachment of foreign devil on preserves of our
- ancient and fruitful land, while the sorrow of our own Hansi Province
- under heel of foreign mining syndicate despot is matter of common ill
- repute to us both. Now as loyal friend and unswervingly determined on
- destroying all evil influence of foreign devils, I invite you as guest to
- share with me pleasure of witnessing capture and utter destruction of
- foreign compound at Ping Yang. Omens agree on midnight of to-day week,
- following banquet of state and theatrical performance at my headquarters,
- at which favorite amateur actor Wang Lo Hsu will recite historical
- masterpiece, “The Song of Wun Hsing.” And as my cooks are all wretched
- creatures, unworthy of catering to poorest classes, I beg of you bring
- delicately expert cook of Canton that I may again rejoice in delightful
- memory of sweet lotus soup.'”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Po paused to light a cigarette.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So you went back to Tiainan?” asked Brachey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no, I was taken back against grain as prisoner of large armed guard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you delivered the message?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pao didn't accept, of course. Though I don't see how he could get out of
- it. He had no soldiers to speak of, did he?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, some. These he sent by northern road to region of Shan Tang,
- only thirty <i>li</i> away from Ping Yang. And then he accept, for His
- Excellency is great statesman. Nobody yet ever put it over on His
- Excellency, not so you could notice it. Without frown or smile he assemble
- secretaries, runners and lictors of yamen. banner-men, some concubines and
- eunuchs and come post-haste.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So he's here now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes. We have large establishment at temple over on neighboring hill.
- And everything's all right. O. K.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You'll forgive me if I don't at all understand why.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Naturally. I am going to make clear as cotton print. For a day or so
- everything was as disorderly as the dickens, of course. You couldn't hear
- yourself think. And sleep? My God, there wasn't <i>any</i>. And of course
- after death of old reprobate Lookers went to pieces and raised Ned. It
- became necessary to punish leaders and all that sort of thing. You see,
- Dame Rumor gets move on in China, runs around like scared chicken, faster
- than telegraph, I sometimes think. And when Lookers heard stories, that
- Imperial Government up at Peking wasn't so crazy about giving them
- support, and might even hand them double-cross lemon, they began to think
- about patching holes in fences. They just blew up. And His Excellency”—he
- chuckled—“he grasped situation like chain lightning. Oh, but he's
- whale of a fellow, His Excellency!” Brachey smoked reflectively as he
- studied this curiously bloodless enthusiast. Evidently behind the
- humorously inadequate English speech of Mr. Po there was, if it could be
- got at, a stirring drama of intrigue. A typical Oriental drama, bearing a
- smooth surface of silken etiquette but essentially cruel and bloody. The
- difficulty would be, of course, in getting at it, drawing it out piecemeal
- and putting it together.
- </p>
- <p>
- “His Excellency will now clean up whole shooting match,” Mr. Po went on.
- “No more Ho Shan Company!” And he waved his cigarette about to indicate
- the compound.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, that goes, too?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! His Excellency has at once telegraphed agent-general at Tientsin
- for final show-down price on surrender of all leases, agreements,
- expenses, bribes and absolute good riddance. They say three million taels
- cash. To-morrow we shall throw it at their heads. And so much for that!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “H'm!” mused Brachey. “Pretty quick work. Rather takes one's breath away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! But His Excellency's son of a gun.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Evidently. But I'm still in the dark as to how this rather extraordinary
- change came about. Did I understand you to say that Kang is dead?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! Night before last.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How did that happen?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, well—it's just as well not to give this away—on arrival
- at Ping Yang His Excellency made at once prepare bowl of sweet lotus soup
- and send it with many compliments and hopes of good omens to old devil.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean—there was poison in it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes! Pretty darned hard to put it over His Excellency. After that it
- was no trouble at all to behead commanders of Looker troops.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Naturally,” was Brachey's only comment. He proceeded to draw out, bit by
- bit, other details of the story.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some one stepped before the tent, and a strong voice called:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Brachey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With a nervously abrupt movement Brachey sprang up and threw back the
- flaps; and beheld, standing there, stooping in order that he might see
- within, the giant person of Griggsby Doane.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>rachey bowed
- coldly. Doane's strong gaunt face worked perceptibly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Won't you come in, sir? The tent is”—there was a pause—“the
- tent is small, but... You are perhaps acquainted with Mr. Po Sui-an of the
- yamen of His Excellency Pao Ting Chuan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Doane bowed toward the Chinese gentleman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think I have seen Mr. Po at the yamen,” he said, speaking now in the
- slow grave way of the old Griggsby Doane. “You bring good news?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes!” Mr. Po lighted a cigarette. “We shall doubtless in jiffy see
- you again at T'ainan-fu.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane looked thoughtfully, intently at him, then replied in the simple
- phrase, “It may be.” To Brachey he said now, producing a white envelope,
- “I found this, cablegram held for you at Shau T'ing, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey took the envelope; stood stiffly holding it unopened before him.
- For a moment the eyes of these two men met. Then Doane broke the tension
- by simply raising his head, an action which removed it from the view of
- the men within the tent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good morning,” he said rather gruffly. And “Good morning, Mr. Po.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was well out of ear-shot when Brachey's gray lips mechanically uttered
- the two words, “Thank you.” From a distant corner of the compound came the
- fresh voices of young men—Americans and Australian and English—raised
- in crudely pleasant harmony They were singing <i>My Bonnie Lies Over the
- Ocean</i>. As they swung into the rolling, rollicking refrain, women's
- voices joined in faintly from here and there about the compound....
- Brachey seemed to be listening. Then, again, abruptly starting into
- action, he stepped outside the tent and stared across the courtyard after
- Griggby Doane.... Then, as abruptly, he remembered his guest and returned
- within the tent, with an almost muttered “I beg your pardon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, go on—read your cablegram!” said Mr. Po good-humoredly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Bradley looked at him; then at the envelope—turning it slowly over.
- His hands trembled. This fact appeared to disturb him. He held one hand
- out before his face and watched it intently, finally lowering it with a
- quick nervous shake of the head. He seated himself again on the cot; tore
- off an end of the envelope; caught his breath; then sat motionless with
- the bit of paper that meant to him everything in life, or nothing, hanging
- between limp fingers. A puzzling reminder of the strange man, Griggsby
- Doane, was the painful throbbing in his head.... They were singing again,
- about the compound—it was the college song of his youth, <i>Solomon
- Levi</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- He thought, with another of those odd little mental and physical jerks,
- again of his guest; and heard himself saying—weakly it seemed, like
- a man talking in dreams—“You will think me...” But found himself
- addressing an empty enclosure of canvas. Mr. Po had slipped out and
- dropped the flaps. That he could have done this unobserved frightened
- Brachey a little. He looked again at his trembling hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again he raised the envelope. Until this moment he had assumed that it
- could be but one message to himself and Betty; but now he knew vividly
- better.
- </p>
- <p>
- Anything might have happened. It was unthinkable that he should want the
- courage to read it. He had foreseen no such difficulty. Perhaps if it had
- come by any other hand than that of Griggsby Doane....
- </p>
- <p>
- His thoughts wandered helplessly back over the solitary life he had led...
- wandering in Siam and Borneo and Celebes, dwelling here and there in
- untraveled corners of India, picking up the quaint folklore of the Malay
- Peninsula, studying the American sort of social organization in the
- Philippines... eight years of it! He had begun as a disheartened young
- man, running bitterly away from the human scheme in which he found no
- fitting niche. Yes, that was it, after all; he had run away! He had begun
- with a defeat, based his working life on just that. The five substantial
- books that now stood to his name in every well-stocked library in America,
- as in many in England and on the Continent, were, after all, but stop-gaps
- in an empty life. They were a subterfuge, those books.........All the hard
- work, the eager close thinking, was now, suddenly, meaningless. That he
- had chosen work instead of drink, that he had been, after all, a decent
- fellow, pursuing neither chance nor women, seemed immaterial.
- </p>
- <p>
- The curse of an active imagination was on him now, and was riding him as
- wildly as ever witch rode a broomstick.
- </p>
- <p>
- The very bit of paper in his hand was nothing if not the symbol of his
- terrible failure in the business called living. As he had built his work
- on failure, was he, inevitably, to build the happiness of himself and
- Betty on the same painful foundation. Even if the paper should announce
- his freedom? Bitterly he repeated aloud the word, “Freedom!” Then
- “Happiness?”... What were these elusive things? Were they in any sense
- realities?
- </p>
- <p>
- He nerved himself and read the message:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Absolute decree granted you are free.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He tossed it, with its unpunctuated jumble of words, on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- A little later, though he still indulged in this scathing self-analysis,
- the habit of meeting responsibilities that was more strongly a part of his
- nature than in this hour of utter emotion he knew, began to assert itself.
- The strong character that had led him, after all, out to fight and to
- build his mental house, was largely the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- He slowly got up and stood before the square bit of mirrror that hung on
- the rear tent-pole; then looked down at his mud-stained clothes.
- Deliberately, almost painfully, he shaved and dressed. It was
- characteristic that he put on a stiff linen collar.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was, to a man of his stripe, just one thing to do: and that thing he
- was going at directly, firmly. Until it was done he could not so much as
- speak to Betty. Of the outcome of this effort he had no notion; he was
- going at it doggedly, with his character rather than with his mind. Indeed
- the mind quibbled, manufactured little delays, hinted at evasions. He even
- listened to these whisperings, entertained them; but meanwhile went
- straight on with his dressing.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s he emerged from
- the tent sudden noises assailed his ears. A line of young men danced in
- lock step, doing a serpentine from one areaway to another, and waving and
- shouting merrily as they passed. There was still the singing, somewhere;
- one of the songs of Albert Chevalier, who had not then been forgotten. He
- heard vaguely, with half an ear, the enthusiastic outburst of sound on the
- final line:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Missie 'Enry 'Awkins is a first-class nyme!”
- </p>
- <p>
- So it was a day of celebration! He had forgotten that it would be. But of
- course! Even the Chinese were at it; he could hear one of their flageolets
- wailing, and, more faintly, stringed instruments.
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked directly to the building occupied by the Boatwrights; sent in
- his card to Mr. Doane.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was shown into a little cubicle of a room. Here was the huge man,
- rising from an absurdly small work table that had been crowded in by the
- window, between the wall and the foot of the bed. He was writing,
- apparently, a long letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey, an odd figure to Doane's eyes, in his well-made suit and stiff
- white collar, stood on the sill, as rigid as a soldier at attent ion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am interrupting you,” he said, almost curtly,
- </p>
- <p>
- For the first time Griggsby Doane caught a glimpse of the man Brachey
- behind that all but forbidding front; and he hesitated, turning for a
- moment, stacking his papers together, and with a glance at the open window
- laying a book across them.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had said, kindly enough, “Oh, no, indeed! Come right in.” But his
- thoughts were afield, or else he was busily, quickly, rearranging them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey stepped within, and closed the door. Here they were, these two, at
- last, shut together in a room. It was a moment of high tension.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sit down,” said Doane, still busying himself at the table, but waving an
- immense hand toward the other small chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Brachey stood... waiting... in his hand a folded paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- Finally Doane lifted his head, with a brusk but not unpleasant, “Yes,
- sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey, for a moment, pressed his lips tightly together.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Doane,” he said then, clipping his words off short, “may I first ask
- you to read this cablegram?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane took the paper, started to unfold it, but then dropped it on the
- table and stepped forward.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now for the first time Brachey sensed, behind this great frame and the
- weary, haggard face, the real Griggsby Doane; and stood very still,
- fighting for control over the confusion in his aching head. This was, he
- saw now, a strong man; a great deal more of a personality than he had
- supposed he would find. Even before the next words, he felt something of
- what was coming, something of the vigorous honesty of the man. Doane had
- been through recent suffering, that was clear Something—-and even
- then, in one of his keen mental dashes, Brachey suspected that it was a
- much more personal experience than the Looker attack—something had
- upset him. This wasn't a man to turn baby over a wound, or to lose his
- head in a little fighting. No, it was an illness of the soul that had
- hollowed the eyes and deepened the grooves between them. But it didn't
- matter. What did matter was that he was now, in this gentle mood,
- surprisingly like Betty. For she had a curious vein of honesty; and she
- said, at times, just such unexpectedly frank, wholly open things as he
- felt (with an opening heart) that the father was about to say now.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Brachey”—this was what he said, with extraordinary simplicity
- of manner—“can you take my hand?”
- </p>
- <p>
- If Brachey had spoken his reply his voice would have broken. Instead he
- gripped the proffered hand. And during a brief moment they stood there.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” said Doane quietly, “sit down.” And he read the cablegram. After
- some quiet thought he said, “Have you come to ask for Betty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The directness of this question made speech, to Brachey, even more nearly
- impossible than before. He bowed his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane had dropped into the little chair by the little table. He sat, now,
- thinking and absently weighing the cablegram in one hand. Finally,
- reaching a conclusion, he rose again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The best way, I think, will be to settle this thing now.” He appeared to
- be speaking as much to himself as to his caller. “I'll get Betty. You
- won't mind waiting? They don't have call bells in this house.” And he
- returned the cablegram and went out of the room, leaving the door ajar
- behind him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey stepped over to the window, thinking he might see Betty when she
- came, but it gave on an inner court. He stared out at the gray tiling. The
- moment was, to him, terrible. He stood on the threshold of that strange
- region of the spirit that is called happiness. The door, always before
- closed to him (except the one previous experience when it proved but an
- entry into bitterness and desolation) had opened, here at the last,
- amazingly, at his touch. And he was afraid to look.
- </p>
- <p>
- It seemed an hour later when footsteps sounded outside, and the outer door
- opened. Then they came in, father and daughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty, rather white, stood hesitant, looking from one to the other. Doane
- placed a gently protecting arm about her slim shoulders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I haven't told her,” he said. “That is for you to do. I want you both to
- wait while I look for the others.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was gone. Betty came slowly forward. Brachey handed her the cablegram.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I can't read it,” she said, with a tremulous little laugh. “John—I'm
- crying!”
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he door squeaked.
- Miss Hemphill looked in; stopped short; then in a sudden confusion of mind
- in which indignation struggled with bewilderment for the upper hand,
- stepped back into the hall. Before she could come down on the decision to
- flee, Dr. Cassin joined her; curiously, carrying her medicine case.
- </p>
- <p>
- To the physician's brisk, “Mr. Doane sent word to come here at once. Do
- you know what is the matter?” Miss Hemphill could only reply, rather
- acidly, “I can't imagine!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Boatwright came into the corridor then, followed by Doane. She walked
- with firm dignity, her enigmatic face squarely set. And when he ushered
- them into the room, she entered without a word, but remained near the
- door.
- </p>
- <p>
- For a long moment the room was still; a hush settling over them that
- intensified the difficulty in the situation. Miss Hemphill stared down at
- the matting. Mrs. Boatwright's eyes were fixed firmly on the wall over the
- bed. The one audible sound was the heavy breathing of Griggsby Doane, who
- stood with his back to the door, brows knit, one hand reaching a little
- way before him. He appeared, to the shrewd eyes of Dr. Cassin, like a man
- in deep suffering. But when he spoke it was with the poise, the sense of
- dominating personality, that she had felt and admired during all the
- earlier years of their long association. Of late he had been ill of a
- subtle morbid disease of which she had within the week witnessed the
- nearly tragic climax; but now he was well again.... Mary Cassin was a
- woman of considerable practical gifts. Her medical experience, illuminated
- as it had been by wide scientific reading, gave her a first-hand knowledge
- of the human creature and a tolerant elasticity of judgment that
- contrasted oddly with the professed tenets of her church, with their iron
- classification as sin of much that is merely honest human impulse, that
- might even, properly, be set down as human need. She saw clearly enough
- that the quality in the human creature that is called, usually, force, is
- essentially emotional in its content—and that the person gifted with
- force therefore must be plagued with emotional problems that increase in
- direct ratio with the gift. Unlike Mrs. Boatwright, who was, of course,
- primarily a moralist, Mary Cassin possessed the other great gift of
- dispassionate, objective thought. I think she had long known the nature of
- Doane's problem. Certainly she knew that no medical skill could help him;
- her advice, always practical, would have taken the same direction as Dr.
- Hidderleigh's. It brought her a glow of something not unlike happiness to
- see that now he was well. The cure, whatever it might prove to have been,
- was probably mental. Knowing Griggsby Doane as she did, that was the only
- logical conclusion. For she knew how strong he was.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There has existed among us a grave misapprehension”—thus Doane—“one
- in which, unfortunately, I have myself been more grievously at fault than
- any of you. I wish, now, before you all, to acknowledge my own confusion
- in this matter, and, further, to clear away any still existing
- misunderstanding in your minds.... Mr. Brachey has established the fact
- that he is eligible to become Betty's husband. That being the case, I can
- only add that I shall accept him as my only son-in-law with pride and
- satisfaction. He has proved himself worthy in every way of our respect and
- confidence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mary Cassin broke the hush that followed by stepping quickly forward and
- kissing Betty; after which she gave her hand warmly to Brachey. Then with
- a word about her work at the hospital she went briskly out.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Hemphill started forward, only to hesitate and glance in a spirit of
- timid inquiry at the implacable Mrs. Boatwright. To her simple,
- unquestioning faith, Mr. Doane and Mary Cassin could not together be
- wrong; yet her closest daily problem was that of living from hour to hour
- under the businesslike direction of Mrs. Boatwright. However, having
- started, and lacking the harsh strength of character to be cruel, she went
- on, took the hands of Betty and Brachey in turn, and wished them
- happiness. Then she, too, hurried away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Elmer Boatwright was studying his wife. His color was high, his eyes
- nervously bright. He was studying, too, Griggsby Doane, who had for more
- than a decade been to him almost an object of worship. Moved by an
- impulse, perhaps the boldest of his life—and just as his wife said,
- coldly, “I'm sure I wish you happiness,” and moved toward the door—he
- went over and caught Betty and Brachey each by a hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I haven't understood this,” he said—and tears stood in his eyes as
- he smiled on them—“but now I'm glad. Betty, we are all going to be
- proud of the man you have chosen. I'm proud of him now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXII—BEGINNINGS
- </h2>
- <h3>
- 1
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE day of sudden
- and dramatic peace was drawing near its close. Seated on the parapet of a
- rifle pit Betty and Brachey looked out over the red-brown valley. Long,
- faintly purple shadows lay along the hillside and in the deeper hollows.
- From the compound, half-way down the slope, a confusion of pleasant sounds
- came to their ears—youthful voices, snatches of song, an
- energetically whistled Sousa march, the quaintly plaintive whine of
- Chinese woodwinds—while above the roofs of tile and iron within the
- rectangle of wall (that was still topped with brown sand-bags) wisps of
- smoke drifted lazily upward.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It seems queer,” mused he, aloud, “sitting here like this, with
- everything so peaceful. During the fighting I didn't feel nervous, but now
- I start at every new sound. I loathed it, too; but now, this evening, I
- miss it, in a way.” He gazed moodily down into the short trench. “Right
- there,” he said, “young Bartlett was hit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you brought him in under fire.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A Chinaman helped me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, it was you,” she said. “He wouldn't have done it. I watched from the
- window.” Her chin was propped on two small lists; her eyes, reflective,
- were looking out over the compound and the valley toward the walled temple
- on the opposite slope with its ornate, curving roofs and its little group
- of trees that were misty with young foliage. “I've been thinking a good
- deal about that, and some other things. All you said, back there on the
- ship, about independence and responsibility.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't believe I care to remember that,” said he quietly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, John, if you will say startling, strong things to an impressionable
- girl—and I suppose that's all I was then—you can't expect her
- to forget them right away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His face relaxed into a faint, fleeting smile. But she went earnestly on.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course I know it wasn't really long ago. Not if you measure it by
- weeks. But if you measure it by human experience it was—well,
- years.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was sober again; cheek on hand, gazing out into those lengthening,
- deepening shadows.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was what we quarreled about, John. I felt terribly upset. I was blue—I
- can't tell you! Just the thought of all your life meant to you, and how I
- seemed to be spoiling it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A strong hand drew one of hers down and closed about it. “I'm going to try
- to tell you something, dear,” he said. “You thought that what I said to
- you, on the ship, was an expression of a real philosophy of life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what else could it have been, John?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was just a chip—right here.” He raised her hand and with it
- patted his shoulder. “It was what I'd tried for years to believe. I was
- bent on believing it. You know, Betty, the thing we assert most positively
- isn't our real faith. We don't have to assert that. It's likely to be what
- we're trying to convince ourselves of.... I'm just beginning to understand
- that, just lately, since you came into my life—and during the
- fighting. I had to bolster myself up in the faith that a man can run away,
- live alone, because it seemed to be the only basis on which I, as I was,
- could deal with life. The only way I could get on at all. But you see what
- happened to me. Life followed me and finally caught me, away out here in
- China. No, you can't get away from it. You can't live selfishly. It won't
- work. We're all in together. We've got to think of the others..... I'm
- like a beginner now—going to school to life. I don't even know what
- I believe. Not any more. I—I'm eager to learn, from day to day. The
- only thing I'm sure of”... he turned, spoke with breathless awe in his
- voice... “is that I love you, dear That's the foundation on which my life
- has got to be built. It's my religion, I'm afraid.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Betty's eyes filled; her little fingers twisted in among his; but she
- didn't speak then.
- </p>
- <p>
- The shadows stretched farther and farther along the hillside. The sun, a
- huge orange disc descending amid coppery strips of shining cloud, touched
- the rim of the western hills; slid smoothly, slowly down behind it,
- leaving a glowing vault of gold and rose and copper overhead and a
- luminous haze in the valley. Off to the eastward, toward Shau T'ing and
- the crumbling ruins of the Southern Wall (which still winds sinuously for
- hundreds of miles in and out of the valleys, and over and around the
- hills) the tumbling masses of upheaved rock and loess were deeply purple
- against a luminous eastern sky.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you let me travel with you, John? I've thought that I could draw
- while you write. Maybe I could even help you with your books. It would be
- wonderful—exploring strange places. I'd like to go down through
- Yunnan, and over the border into Siam and Assam and the Burmah country.
- I've been reading about it, sitting in the hospital at night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There would be privation—and dangers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't care.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You wouldn't be afraid?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not with you. And if—if anything happened to you, I'd want to go,
- too.... Of course, there'd be other problems coming up. Don't think I'm
- altogether impractical, dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What are you thinking of?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She hesitated. “Children, John. I know we shan't either of us be satisfied
- to live just for our happiness in each other. I couldn't help thinking
- about that, watching you here, during the siege.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, we shan't.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And with your work what it is—what it's got to be there's our first
- problem.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We'll have to take life as it comes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I know.” They were silent again. Gradually the brilliant color was
- fading from the sky and the distant hills softening into mystery....
- “Father says that we'll find marriage a job—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, it's that!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Full of surprises and compromises and giving up. He says it's very
- difficult, but very wonderful.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should think,” said Brachey, his voice somewhat unsteady, “that it
- would be the most wonderful job in the world. Its very complexities, the
- nature of the demands it must make.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know!”
- </p>
- <p>
- After a long silence he asked, so abruptly that she looked swiftly up:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you ever pray, dear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why—yes, I do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you teach me? I've tried—up here in the trenches. I've thought
- that maybe I'd pick up a copy of the English prayer-book. They'd have it
- at Shanghai or Tientsin....”
- </p>
- <h3>
- 2
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>usk was mounting
- the hill-slopes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was a strange talk father and I had. Nearly all the afternoon—while
- you were checking up ammunition and things. It's the first time he's
- really sat down with me like that like a friend, I mean—and talked
- out, just as he felt. Oh, he's been kind. But it's queer about father and
- me. You see, when they sent me over to the States, I was really only a
- child. Mother was dead then, you know. Father was always hoping to get
- over to see me, but there was all the strain of building up the missions
- after the Boxer trouble, and then he'd had his vacation. And he couldn't
- afford to bring me out here just for the journey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brachey broke in here. “Did you ask him if he would marry us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She nodded. “Yes. And he won't. That's partly what I'm going to tell you.
- He's resigned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From the church?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. He thought of having Mr. Boatwright do it. But it seems that his
- position is rather difficult. On account of his wife. She'll never be
- friendly to us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I could see, though, that Dad was glad about our plan for an early
- wedding. Of course, he's had me to think of, every minute. He did say that
- the certain knowledge that I'm cared for will make it easier for him to
- carry out his plans. But he wouldn't tell me what the plans are. It's odd.
- He doesn't like to think of me as a responsibility. I could see that. I
- mean, that he might have to do something he didn't believe in in order to
- earn money for me. He said that he's been for years in a false position. I
- never saw him so happy. He acts as if he'd been set free.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps he has,” Brachey reflected aloud. “It is strange—almost as
- if we represented opposite swings of the pendulum, he and I. Perhaps we
- do. I've not had enough responsibility, he's had too much. Probably one
- extreme's as unhealthy as the other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I've worried some about him, John. But he begs me not to. He's planning
- now to sell all his things.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everything. Books, even. And his desk, that he's had since the first
- years out here. Mr. Withery is going to be in charge at T'ainan, and Dad's
- leaving the final arrangements to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You speak as if your father were going away, far off. And in a hurry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is. That's the strange thing. Just to tell about it, like this, makes
- it seem'—well, almost wild. But when you talk with him you feel all
- right about it. He's so steady and sure. Just as if at last he's hit on
- the truth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The night drew its cloak swiftly over the valley. For a long time after
- this conversation they sat there in silent communion with the dim hills;
- she nestling in his arms; he dreaming of the years to come in which his
- life—such was his hope—might through love find balance and
- warmth.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 3
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>oane was at the
- residence when Brachey left Betty there—at the door, chatting with
- M. Pourmont. He walked away with Brachey. And the tired but still genial
- Frenchman looked after them with a puzzled frown.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stroll a bit with me, will you?” said Doane. “I've got a few things to
- say to you.” And outside the gate, he added soberly: “About the beastly
- thing I did.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I've forgotten that,” said Brachey; stiffly, in spite of himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, you haven't. You never will. Neither shall I. What I have to say is
- just this—it was an overwrought, half-mad man who attacked you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course, I've come to see that. All you'd been through.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What I'd been through, Brachey, wasn't merely hardship, fighting, wounds.
- It was something else, the wreck of my life. I'd had to stand by, in a
- way, and look at the wreckage. I was doing the wrong thing, living wrong,
- living a lie. For years I fought it, without being able to see that I was
- fighting life itself. You see, Brachey, the power of dogmatic thinking is
- great. It circumscribed my sense of truth for years.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He fell silent for a moment, looking up at the stars. Then, simply, he
- added this:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want you to know the whole truth. I feel that it is due you. My
- struggle ended in sin. The plainest kind—with a woman—and
- without a shred of even human justification. Just degradation.... I can
- see now that it was a terrific shock. It nearly pulled me under, very
- nearly. They want me to stay in the church, but I can't, of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Brachey, “you wouldn't want to do that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I couldn't. I went through the more or less natural morbid phases, of
- course. That attack on you—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was partly exhaustion,” said Brachey. “You weren't in condition to
- analyze a situation that would have been difficult for anybody. And of
- course I was in the position of breaking my pledge to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was more than that, Brachey. The primitive resurgence in me simply
- reached its climax then. No—let me have this out! I suspected you
- because I had learned to suspect myself. That blow was a direct result of
- my own sin. And I want you to know that I've come to see it for what it
- was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “H'm!” mused Brachey. They were standing by a pile of weathering timbers,
- beside the old Chinese highway. “Shall we sit a while?” Then—“I'd
- have to think about that.” Finally—“I don't know but what your
- analysis is sound. But”—he mused longer, then, his voice clouded
- with emotion, broke out with—“God, man, what you must have suffered!
- And after our row.... I can't bear to think of it.” And then, quite
- forgetting himself, he rested a hand on Doane's arm. It was perhaps the
- first time in his adult life that he had done so demonstrative a thing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane compressed his lips, in the darkness, and stared away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes,” he replied, after a moment, “I've suffered, of course. I even
- made a rather cowardly try at suicide.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No—not—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “On my return from Shau T'ing I walked into the Looker lines in broad
- daylight. I rather hoped to go out that way. But the fighting was over. I
- couldn't even get killed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He seemed as confiding as a child, this grave powerful man. And he was
- Betty's father! Brachey was sensitively eager to help him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Betty said you had new plans. I wonder if you would feel like telling me
- of them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. I've meant to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you going back to the States?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No. Not now. Not with things like this. My worldly possessions, when
- everything is sold, will probably come down to a thousand or fifteen
- hundred dollars. My library is worth a good deal more than that, but won't
- bring it. I have a little in cash; not much. I've estimated that two
- hundred dollars—gold, not Mex.—will get me down to Shanghai
- and tide me over the first few delays. I'm giving Betty the rest, and
- arranging for Withery to turn over to her the proceeds of any sale.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what are you going to do down there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Work. Preferably, for a while, with my hands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don't mean at common labor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. Why not? I have a real gift for it. And I'm very strong.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That would mean putting yourself with yellow coolies. The whites wouldn't
- like it; probably they wouldn't let you. And you have a brain. You're a
- trained executive.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I won't take a small mental job. A large one—-that would really
- keep me busy—yes. But there'll be no chance of that at first. And I
- must be fully occupied. I want to be outdoors. I may take up some branch
- of engineering, by way of private study. But at the moment I really don't
- care....” He smiled, in the dark. Brachey felt the smile in his voice when
- he spoke again. “I was forty-five years old this spring, Brachey. That's
- young, really. I have this great physical strength. And I'm free. If I
- have sinned, I have really no bad habits. I probably shan't be happy long
- without slipping my shoulders under some new burden—a good heavy
- one. But don't you see how interesting it will be to start new, at
- nothing, with nothing? What an adventure?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It won't be with nothing, quite. There's your experience, your mental
- equipment. With that, and health, and a little luck you can do anything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Doane, “it is, after all, a clean start. I've been terribly
- shaken.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So have I,” said Brachey gently. “And I'm starting new, too.” He rose;
- stood for a moment quietly thinking; then turned and extended his hand.
- “Mr. Doane, here we are, meeting at life's crossroads. You're starting out
- on something pretty like my old road, and I'm starting on a road not
- altogether unlike yours. The next few years are going to mean everything
- to each of us. And what we both do with our lives is going to mean
- everything to Betty. Let's, between us, make Betty happy.” His voice was a
- little out of control, but he went resolutely on. “Let's, between us, help
- her to grow—enrich her life all we can—give her every chance
- to develop into the woman your daughter has a right to become!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Doane sprang up; stood over him; enveloped his hand in a huge fist and
- nearly crushed it.
- </p>
- <h3>
- 4
- </h3>
- <p>
- The Reverend Henry Withery came in that night, on a shaggy Manchu pony,
- with his luggage behind on a cart. And late the following afternoon a
- wedding took place at the residence. A great event was made of it by the
- young people of the compound. The hills were searched for flowers. A
- surprising array of presents appeared. Mrs. Boatwright was prevented from
- attending by a severe headache, but her husband, at the last moment, came.
- The other T'ainan folk were there. His Excellency, Pao Ting Chuan, with
- fifteen attendant mandarins, in full official costume, among whom was Mr.
- Po Sui-an, lent the color of Oriental splendor to the occasion. His
- Excellency's gift was a necklace of jade with a pendant of ancient worked
- gold. Withery performed the ceremony; and Griggsby Doane gave the bride.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young couple were leaving in the morning for Peking, at which city the
- groom purposed continuing for the present his study of the elements of
- unrest in China.
- </p>
- <p>
- Directly after the wedding and reception a remarkably elaborate dinner was
- served in the large diningroom, at winch Griggsby Doane appeared for a
- brief time to join in the merrymaking with an appearance of <i>savoir
- faire</i> that M. Pourmont, shrewdly taking in, found reassuring; but he
- early took a quiet leave.
- </p>
- <p>
- At dusk, after the talking machine had been turned on and the many young
- men were dancing enthusiastically with the few young women, the newly
- wedded couple slipped out and walked down to the gate. Here, outside in
- the purple shadows, they waited until a huge man appeared, dressed in
- knickerbockers, a knapsack on his back and a weatherbeaten old walking
- stick in his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bride clung to him for a long moment. The groom wrung his hand. Then
- the two stood, arm in arm, looking after him as he descended to the
- highroad and strode firmly, rapidly eastward, disappearing in the village
- and reappearing on the slope beyond, waving a final farewell with stick
- and cap—very dimly they could see him—just before he stepped
- through the old scenic arch at the top of the hill.
- </p>
- <h3>
- THE END
- </h3>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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