My Lady of the Chinese Courtyard | Page 4

stone-flagged terrace, with its low marble
balustrade, resting close against the mountain to which it seems to
cling.
I always stop a moment and look over the valley, because it was from
here I watched thee when thou went to the city in the morning, and here
I waited thy return. Because of my love for it and the rope of
remembrance with which it binds me, I keep it beautiful with rugs and
flowers.
It speaks to me of happiness and brings back memories of summer days
spent idling in a quite so still that we could hear the rustle of the
bamboo grasses on the hillside down below; or, still more dear, the
evenings passed close by thy side, watching the brightened into jade
each door and archway as it passed.
I long for thee, I love thee, I am thine.
Thy Wife.
3
My Dear One, The hours of one day are as like each other as are twin
blossoms from the pear-tree. There is no news to tell thee. The
mornings are passed in the duties that come to all women who have the

care of a household, and the afternoons I am on the terrace with thy
sister. But first of all, thine August Mother must be made comfortable
for her sleep, and then the peace indeed is wonderful.
Mah-li and I take our embroidery and sit upon the terrace, where we
pass long hours watching the people in the valley below. The faint blue
smoke curls from a thousand dwellings, and we try to imagine the lives
of those who dwell beneath the rooftrees. We see the peasants in their
rice-fields; watch them dragging the rich mud from the bottoms of the
canal for fertilizing; hear the shrill whistle of the duck man as, with
long bamboo, he drives the great flock of ducks homeward or sends
them over the fields to search for insects. We see the wedding
procession far below, and can but faintly follow the great covered chair
of the bride and the train of servants carrying the possessions to the
new home. Often the wailing of the mourners in a funeral comes to our
ears, and we lean far over the balcony to watch the coolie scatter the
spirit money that will pay the dead man's way to land of the Gods. But
yesterday we saw the procession carrying the merchant Wong to his
resting-place of sycee spent upon his funeral. Thy brothers tell me his
sons made great boast that no man has been buried with such pomp in
all the province. But it only brings more clearly the remembrance that
he began this life a sampan coolie and ended it with many millions. But
his millions did not bring him happiness. He laboured without ceasing,
and then without living to enjoy the fruit, worn out, departed, one
knows not whither.
[Illustration: Mylady03.] [Illustration: Mylady04.]
Yesterday we heard the clang-clang of a gong and saw the Taotai pass
by, his men carrying the boards and banners with his official rank and
virtues written upon them, and we counted the red umbrellas and
wondered if some poor peasant was in deep trouble.
It is beautiful here now. The hillside is purple with the autumn bloom
and air is filled with a golden haze. The red leaves drift slowly down
the canal and tell me that soon the winter winds will come. Outside the
walls the insects sing sleepily in grass, seeming to know that their brief
life is nearly spent. The wild geese on their southward flight carry my

thoughts to thee. All is sad, and sad as the clouded moon my longing
face, and my eyes are filled with tears. Not at twilight nor at grey of
dawn can I find happiness without thee, my lord, mine own, and
"endless are the days as trailing creepers."
Thy Wife.
4
My Dear One, I have much to tell thee. My last letter was unhappy, and
these little slips of paper must bring to thee joy, not sorrow, else why
the written word?
First, I must tell thee that thy brother Chih-peh will soon be married.
Thou knowest he has long been betrothed to Li-ti, the daughter of the
Governor of Chih-li, and soon the bride will be here. We have been
arranging her apartments. We do not know how many home servants
she will bring, and we are praying the Gods to grant her discretion,
because with servants from a different province there are sure to be
jealousies and the retailing of small tales that disturb the harmony of a
household.
Many tales have been brought us of her great beauty, and we hear she
has much education. Thine August Mother is much disturbed over the
latter, as she says, and justly