Some Chinese Ghosts | Page 5

dropped upon the road." Ming-Y thanked the girl
gracefully, and requested her to convey his compliments to her mistress.
Then he proceeded on his way through the perfumed silence, athwart
the shadows that dreamed along the forgotten path, dreaming himself
also, and feeling his heart beating with strange quickness at the thought
of the beautiful being that he had seen.
* * * * *
It was just such another day when Ming-Y, returning by the same path,
paused once more at the spot where the gracious figure had
momentarily appeared before him. But this time he was surprised to
perceive, through a long vista of immense trees, a dwelling that had

previously escaped his notice,--a country residence, not large, yet
elegant to an unusual degree. The bright blue tiles of its curved and
serrated double roof, rising above the foliage, seemed to blend their
color with the luminous azure of the day; the green-and-gold designs of
its carven porticos were exquisite artistic mockeries of leaves and
flowers bathed in sunshine. And at the summit of terrace-steps before it,
guarded by great porcelain tortoises, Ming-Y saw standing the mistress
of the mansion,--the idol of his passionate fancy,--accompanied by the
same waiting-maid who had borne to her his message of gratitude.
While Ming-Y looked, he perceived that their eyes were upon him;
they smiled and conversed together as if speaking about him; and, shy
though he was, the youth found courage to salute the fair one from a
distance. To his astonishment, the young servant beckoned him to
approach; and opening a rustic gate half veiled by trailing plants
bearing crimson flowers, Ming-Y advanced along the verdant alley
leading to the terrace, with mingled feelings of surprise and timid joy.
As he drew near, the beautiful lady withdrew from sight; but the maid
waited at the broad steps to receive him, and said as he ascended:
"Sir, my mistress understands you wish to thank her for the trifling
service she recently bade me do you, and requests that you will enter
the house, as she knows you already by repute, and desires to have the
pleasure of bidding you good-day."
Ming-Y entered bashfully, his feet making no sound upon a matting
elastically soft as forest moss, and found himself in a
reception-chamber vast, cool, and fragrant with scent of blossoms
freshly gathered. A delicious quiet pervaded the mansion; shadows of
flying birds passed over the bands of light that fell through the
half-blinds of bamboo; great butterflies, with pinions of fiery color,
found their way in, to hover a moment about the painted vases, and
pass out again into the mysterious woods. And noiselessly as they, the
young mistress of the mansion entered by another door, and kindly
greeted the boy, who lifted his hands to his breast and bowed low in
salutation. She was taller than he had deemed her, and supplely-slender
as a beauteous lily; her black hair was interwoven with the creamy
blossoms of the _chu-sha-kih_; her robes of pale silk took shifting tints

when she moved, as vapors change hue with the changing of the light.
"If I be not mistaken," she said, when both had seated themselves after
having exchanged the customary formalities of politeness, "my honored
visitor is none other than Tien-chou, surnamed Ming-Y, educator of the
children of my respected relative, the High Commissioner Tchang. As
the family of Lord Tchang is my family also, I cannot but consider the
teacher of his children as one of my own kin."
"Lady," replied Ming-Y, not a little astonished, "may I dare to inquire
the name of your honored family, and to ask the relation which you
hold to my noble patron?"
"The name of my poor family," responded the comely lady, "is
Ping,--an ancient family of the city of Tching-tou. I am the daughter of
a certain Sië of Moun-hao; Sië is my name, likewise; and I was married
to a young man of the Ping family, whose name was Khang. By this
marriage I became related to your excellent patron; but my husband
died soon after our wedding, and I have chosen this solitary place to
reside in during the period of my widowhood."
There was a drowsy music in her voice, as of the melody of brooks, the
murmurings of spring; and such a strange grace in the manner of her
speech as Ming-Y had never heard before. Yet, on learning that she
was a widow, the youth would not have presumed to remain long in her
presence without a formal invitation; and after having sipped the cup of
rich tea presented to him, he arose to depart. Sië would not suffer him
to go so quickly.
"Nay, friend," she said; "stay yet a little while in my house, I pray you;
for, should your