Part 3 (2/2)

Art thou not tired of that far-off country? Each time I break the seal of thy dear letter I say, ”Perhaps this time-- it holds for me my happiness. It will say, 'I am coming home to thee'.” I am longing for that message.

Thy Wife.

18 My Dear One, It will soon be the Feast of the Springtime. Even now the roads are covered with the women coming to the temple carrying their baskets of spirit money and candles to lay before the Buddha.

Spring will soon be truly here; the buds are everywhere. Everything laughs from the sheer joy of laughter. The sun looks down upon the water in the ca.n.a.l and it breaks into a thousand little ripples from pure gladness. I too am happy, and I want to give of my happiness. I have put a great kang of tea down by the rest-house on the tow-path, so that they who thirst may drink. Each morning I send Chang-tai, the gate-keeper, down to the man who lives in the little reed hut he has builded by the grave of his father. For three years he will live there, to show to the world his sorrow. I think it very worthy and filial of him, so I send him rice each morning. I have also done another thing to express the joy that is deep within my heart. The old abbot, out of thankfulness that the tall poles were not erected before the monastery gateway, has turned the fields back of the temple into a freeing-place for animals. There one may acquire merit by buying a sheep, a horse, a dog, a bird, or a snake that is to be killed, and turning it loose where it may live and die a natural death, as the G.o.ds intended from the beginning. I have given him a sum of money, large in his eyes but small when compared to my happiness, to aid him in this worthy work. I go over in the morning and look at the poor horses and the dogs, and wonder whose soul is regarding me from out of their tired eyes.

Let me hear that thou art coming, man of mine, and I will gather dewdrops from the cherry-trees and bathe me in their perfume to give me beauty that will hold thee close to me.

I am, Thy Wife.

19.

My Dear One, I have received thy letter telling me thou wilt not be here until the summer comes. Then, I must tell thee my news, as the springtime is here, the flowers are budding, the gra.s.s is green, soon the plum-tree in the courtyard will be white. I am jealous of this paper that will see the delight and joy in thine eyes. In the evening I watch the rice boats pa.s.s along the ca.n.a.l, where the water is green and silvery like the new leaves of the willow, and I say, ”Perhaps when you return, I shall be the mother of a child.” Ah--! I have told thee. Does it bring thee happiness, my lord? Does it make a quick little catch in thy breath?

Does thy pulse quicken at the thought that soon thou wilt be a father?

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mylady12.]

Thou wilt never know what this has meant to me. It has made the creature live that was within my soul, and my whole being is bathed with its glory. Thou wilt never know how many times I have gone down the pathway to the temple and asked this great boon of our Lady of Mercy. She granted it, and my life is made perfect. I am indeed a woman, fulfilling a woman's destiny. If a woman bear not sons for her lord, what worth her life? Do we not know that the first of the seven causes for putting away a wife is that she brings no sons into the world to wors.h.i.+p at the graves of her husband's ancestors? But I, Kwei-li, that will not be said of me.

Sometimes I think, ”If something should happen; if the G.o.ds should be jealous of my happiness and I should not see thee more?” Then the heart of the woman throbs with fear, and I throw myself at the feet of Kwan-yin and beg for strength. She gives me peace and brings to my remembrance that the bond of fate is sealed within the moon.

There is no place for fear, for aught but love; my heart is filled so with its happiness.

Thy Wife.

20 My Dear One, The spring has come, and with it some new pulse of life beats through my quiet veins. I spend long hours upon the terrace, breathing in the perfume of the many flowers. The cherry-blossoms are a glory. The whole steep hillside is covered with a fairy lace, as if some G.o.d knew how we hungered after beauty and gave us these pink blossoms to help us to forget the bare cold earth of winter.

It is the time of praying, and all the women with their candles and their incense are bending knees and chanting prayers to Kwan-yin for the blessing of a son. There is a pilgrimage to the Kwem-li PaG.o.da. I can see it in the distance, with its lotus bells that sway and ring with each light breath of wind. One does not think of it as a thing of brick and mortar, or as a many-storied temple, but as a casket whose jewels are the prayers of waiting, hoping women.

You ask me how I pa.s.s my days? I cannot tell. At dawn, I wake with hope and listen to the song of the meadow-lark. At noon, I dream of my great happiness to come. At sunset, I am swept away into the land of my golden dreams, into the heart of my golden world that is peopled with but three-- Thou, Him, and Me. I am drifting happily, sleepily, forgetting care, waiting for the G.o.ds to bring my joy.

Thy Wife.

21.

My Dear One, My courtyard is filled with the sounds of chatting women. I have sent for the sewiing-women and those who do embroidery, and the days are pa.s.sed in making little garments. We are all so busy; Li-ti, Mah-li, even thine Honourable Mother takes again the needle and shows us how she broidered jackets for thee when thou wert young. The piles of clothing grow each day, and I touch them and caress them and imagine I can see them folding close a tiny form. There are jackets, trousers, shoes, tiny caps and thick warm blankets.

I send for Blind Chun, the story-teller, and he makes the hours pa.s.s quickly with his tales of by-gone days. The singers and the fortune-tellers all have found the path that leads up to our gateway, knowing they will find a welcome.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mylady13.]

I am, Thy Happy Wife.

22 I send thee cherry-blossoms. They grew within thy courtyard, and each tiny petal will bring to thee remembrance of thy wife who loves thee well.

23 If thou couldst see my courtyard! It seems carpeted with snow, so many are the cherry-blossoms on its pavement. They say I am untidy that I permit it to be untouched by broom or brush. It is cleaned and spotless all the year, save at this the time of cherry-blossoms, when 'tis untrodden and unswept.

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