My Lady of the Chinese Courtyard | Page 8

trunk of a
pine-tree, chanting as they swung the mast between them, and keeping
step with the chant. It seemed a solemn dirge, as if some great were
being carried to the resting-place of the dead.
[Illustration: Mylady06.]
But sadness could not come to us when shopping, and our eager eyes
looked long at the signs above the open shopways. There were long
black signs of lacquer with letters of raised gold, or red ones with the
characters carved and gilded. Above a shoe-shop was a made for the
King of the Mountains, in front of a pipe-shop was a water pipe fit for
his mate. From the fan-shop hung delicate, gilded fans; and framing the
silk-shop windows gaily coloured silk was draped in rich festoons that
nearly swept the pathway.
We bought silks and satins and gay brocades, we chatted and we
bargained and we shopped. We handled jade and pearls and ornaments
of twisted gold, and we priced amulets and incense pots and gods. We
filled our eyes with luxury and our amahs' chairs with packages, and
returned home three happy, tired, hungry women, thinking with longing
of the hissing tea-urn upon the charcoal brazier.
That crowded, bustling, threatening city seems another world from this,

our quiet, walled-in dwelling. I feel that here we are protected, cared
for, guarded, and life's hurry and distress will only pass us by, not touch
us. Yet-- we like to see it all, and know that we are part of that great
wonder-thing, the world.
I am thy happy, tired, Wife.
8. My Dear One, I am carrying a burden for another that is causing me
much sorrow. Dost thou remember Chen-peh, who is from my province
and who married Ling Peh-yu about two moons after I came to thy
household? She came to me yesterday in dire distress. She is being
returned to her home by her husband's people, and, as thou knowest, if
a woman is divorced shame covers her until her latest hour. I am
inexpressibly saddened, as I do not know what can be done. The
trouble is with his mother and, I fear, her own pride of family. She
cannot forget that she comes from a great house, and she is filled with
pride at the recollection of her home. I have told her that the father and
mother of one's husband should be honoured beyond her own. I can see
that she has failed in respect; and thus she merits condemnation. We
have all learned as babes that "respect" is the first word in the book of
wisdom. I know it is hard at times to still the tongue, but all paths that
lead to peace are hard.
She will remain with me two nights. Last night she lay wide-eyed,
staring into the darkness, with I know not what within her soul. I
begged her to think wisely, to talk frankly with her husband and his
mother, to whom she owes obedience. There should be no pride where
love is. She must think upon the winter of her days, when she will be
alone without husband and without children, eating bitter rice of charity,
though 'tis given by her people. I put her in remembrance of that saying
of the poet:
"Rudely torn may be a cotton mantle, yet a skillful hand may join it;
Snapped may be the string where pearls are threaded, yet the thread all
swiftly knotted; But a husband and his wife, once parted, never more
may meet."
I must not bring thee the sorrows of another. Oh, dear one, there will

never come 'twixt thee and me the least small river of distrust. I will
bear to thee no double heart, and thou wilt cherish me and love me
always.
Thy Wife.
9
My Dear One, I cannot wait until the seventh day to write thee again, as
my letter to thee yestereve was full of sadness and longing. Now I have
slept, and troubles from a distance do not seem so grave.
Thine Honourable Mother has chided me gravely, but to my mind
unjustly, and, as thou knowest, I could not answer her words, though
they pierced me "like arrows from the strings of white-winged bows."
Poor Li-ti is in trouble again, and this time she has brought it upon
herself, yet she cannot he blamed. I as the head of the household, as
thine Honourable Mother has told me, should have protected her. I told
thee that she brought servants from her old home, and amongst them
her childhood's nurse, who, I am sure, loves Li-ti dearly; but, as many
women who have little to occupy their hands, she loves to sit in the
women's courtyard and gossip. If it had stopped within the servants'
courtyard all would have been well;