Part 2 (2/2)

The nights are long and cold. The moon casts silver s.h.i.+mmering lights over the valley below. We cannot stand long on the terrace but must stay close within our rooms near to the charcoal braziers. The wind sweeps o'er the rooftree with the wailing voice of a woman.

Oh, Soul of Mine, with weary heart the creeping days I'm counting.

Thy Wife.

14 My Dear One, We have had a serious sickness come to all the countryside; rich and poor, peasant and merchant have suffered from a fever that will not abate. It raged for more than a moon before it was known the cause thereof. Dost thou remember the Kwan-lin PaG.o.da? Its ruin has long been a standing shame to the people of the province, and finally the G.o.ds have resented their neglect and sent them this great illness.

Over all the city the yellow edicts of the priests have been placed so as to meet the eye of all who travel. They are in the market-places, at the entrance of the tea-houses, standing on great boards at the doorways of the temples, in front of the water-gates, and at each city postern. They state that the G.o.ds are angry and send to each man or household that will not give three days' work upon the PaG.o.da the fever that leaves him weak and ailing. They demand the labour of the city; and if it is not given freely, toil is sent the people in their sleep and they waken weary, and must so remain until the work is finished.

We did not hearken to the summons until Chih-peh, thy brother, fell ill with the sickness. He grew worse each day, until Li-ti and thine Honourable Mother were panic-stricken. At last the chairs were ordered, and thy Mother and I went to the monastery on the hillside to consult with the old abbot, who is most full of wisdom. Thine Honourable Mother told him of the illness which had a.s.sailed her son, and begged him to tell her if it were the illness of the PaG.o.da. He meditated long and seriously, then he said, ”My daughter, the G.o.ds are no respecter of persons; they wish the service of your son.”

”But,” thine Honourable Mother objected, ”he is no workman. He cannot labour upon the PaG.o.da.” The abbot said, ”There are more ways of giving service than the labour of the hands. The G.o.ds will allow him to contribute of his wealth and buy the toil of other men, and thus he may cancel his obligation.” The August One satisfied the greedy heart of the priest, and then he told her to go and make her beisance to the G.o.d of Light, the great Buddha, and see what message he had for her.

She took the hollow bamboo filled with the numbered slices of wood and, prostrating herself three times before the Great One, shook it slowly until one detached itself from its brothers and fell to the floor.

The abbot then handed her a slip of paper which read:

”Wisdom sits by the Western Gate And gives health and happiness to those who wait.”

These words meant nothing to thine Honourable Mother; and after giving the abbot more silver, he said, ”Beside the Western Gate sits the owl of wisdom, the great doctor Chow-fong. His father and his father's father were wise; their study was mankind, and to him has come all their stores of knowledge. He has books of wonderful age, that tell him the secret of the world. Go to him; he will give you the plan of healing.”

We started for the Western Gate, and I, in my wicked heart, spoke thoughts that should have been closely locked within my breast. I said, ”Perhaps the doctor and the priest have formed a combination most profitable to the two. If we had gone to the doctor first, we might have been sent to the abbot.” It was a great mistake to mention such a dreadful thing, and I realised it instantly; as thou knowest, the Elder One has a tongue of eloquence, and I was indeed glad that her bearers carried her at least ten paces from my bearers-- and the way was long.

Even thine Honourable Mother was awed at the solemn looks of this great man of medicine who, in his dim room with dried bats hanging from the ceiling beams and a dragon's egg close by his hand, glared at her through his great goggles like a wise old owl. She apologised for disturbing so great a man at his studies, but she was the bearer of a message from the abbot. He read it carefully, then took down a monstrous book ent.i.tled ”The Golden Mirror of Medical Practice,” and solemnly pored over its pages. At last he wrote upon a paper, then chanted:

”In a building tall, by the city wall, In the street of the Tower of Gold, Is the plant of health, long life and wealth, In the claws of the Dragon bold.”

The August One took the paper, laid some silver upon the table, and we hurried from his doorway, glad to be free from his fearful presence.

When we entered the chairs and looked to the paper for directions to give the bearers, the characters were meaningless to us. I repeated his chant, and the head bearer said, ”There is a shop of drugs in the street of the Tower of Gold, and the sign of the place is a Golden Dragon's Claw.”

We soon were there, and waited in our chairs while the bearer took the paper into the maker of medicines. We waited long, and thine Honourable Mother would have been impatient if sleep had not kindly made her forget the waiting hours. I, sitting in my chair, could look through the archways into the big covered courtyards where blind men were grinding herbs. They were harnessed to great stones, and went round and round all day, like buffalo at the water-wheel. I wondered why the G.o.ds had put them at this service. What sins they had committed in their other life, to be compelled to work like beasts, grinding the herbs that would bring health and life to others, while they lived on in darkness. Often I would hear the soft call of the deer as they moved restlessly in their tiny cells. I know their horns, when powdered fine with beetles' wings, is the cure for fevers and all ailments of the blood, but why could not the wise ones of the earth have found some herb or weed to take their place and give these wild ones of the woods their freedom? Finally, the bearer came with a tiny jar, too small, it seemed, to take such time in mixing, and we returned to the waiting Li-ti.

The medicine was black and nasty and smelled not sweetly, which proved its strength. Chih-peh got slowly better, and the world again looked fair to Li-ti, and the song came to her lips. The flowers were put in the hair, the gay dresses were brought out of their boxes, and she was, as of old, our b.u.t.terfly.

We laughed at her for her fright, but I thought, if it had been thou who wast ill, and I did not know the cure! Oh, dear one, dost thou understand that, to a woman who loves, her husband is more than Heaven, more than herself? All that she is not, all that she lacks, all that she desires to be, is her beloved. His breath alone can bring peace to her heart, and it is he alone who teaches her the depth of pa.s.sionate joy there is in love and life and all things beautiful.

I am, thy wife.

15 My Dear One, Thine Honourable Mother is beset by the desire or marrying. No, do not start; it is not or herself she is thinking. She will go to the River or Souls mourning thine Honourable Father, and a pailo will be erected in her honour. It is or her household she is thinking. She says our rooftree is too small to shelter four women, three or whom have little brains-- and that includes thy humble, loving wire-- but why she should wish to exchange Mah-li, whom she knows, for a strange woman whom she does not know, pa.s.ses my understanding. She seems not overfond of daughters-in-law, if one judge from chance remarks.

First, before I speak or Mah-li, I must tell thee of thy brother. Thine Honourable Mother is right-- it were better that he marry and have a heel rope that leads him homewards. He is unruly and pa.s.ses overmuch time at the Golden Lotus Tea-house. He is not bad or wicked. He lives but for the moment, and the moment is often wine-flushed. He will not work or study, and many times at night I send away the gatekeeper and leave my amah at the outer archway, so thy Mother will not know the hour he enters. He is young, and has chosen friends not equal to himself, and they have set his feet in the path-way that slopes downward.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mylady11.]

He does not wish to marry. We have told him that marriage is a will of the G.o.ds and must be obeyed. ”Man does not attain by himself, nor, Woman by herself, but like the one-winged birds of our childhood's tale, they must rise together.” It is useless to talk to him. A spark of fire will not kindle wood that is still too green, and I rear he is in love with life, and youth, and freedom.

I do not wish to doubt the wisdom of the August One, but I think she made a mistake in her choice of a bride for Chih-mo. She chose Tai-lo, the daughter of the Prefect of Chih-Ii. The arrangements were nearly made, the dowry even was discussed, but when the astrologer cast their horoscopes to see if they could pa.s.s their life in peace together, it was found that the ruler of Chih-mo's life was a lion, and that of the bride's, a swallow, so it was clearly seen they could not share one rooftree. I fear (I would not have this come to the ears of thine Honourable Mother) that some silver was left upon the doorstep of the astrologer. Chih-mo asked of me the loan of an hundred taels, and I saw the wife of the reader of the stars pa.s.s by with a new gown of red and gold brocade.

I think Chih-mo had seen Tai-lo. Report gives her small beauty. Yet, as the Elder One says, ”Musk is known by its perfume, and not by the druggist's label.” Quite likely she would have made a good wife; and-- we have one beauty in the household-- it is enough.

<script>