The House of a Thousand Lanterns

I

The impact of the Hong Kong scene upon me was tremendous. I was expecting something exotic, entirely different from what I had ever known, and having steeped myself in Chinese history, manners, customs, and art, I had believed myself to be in some measure prepared. But I could never have pictured anything so varied, so colorful, and so mysterious.

The center of life was the harbor, one of the finest known to man, I believe. Ships came in from all over the world and there was constant activity along the waterfront. A strip of sea about a mile long separated Hong Kong Island from the mainland and ferries constantly plied back and forth. From Kowloon one could look across to the steep mountain ridge and the island’s capital city of Victoria. The junks and the sampans crowded the waters; these were the homes of thousands of families, many of whom rarely came ashore. These people fascinated me. I would see women sitting on the little boats, babies in slings on their backs while they prepared the men’s fishing nets; it seemed incredible that these little boats with their wicker mat sails were the only homes they had.

Perhaps more even than the harbor life the streets intrigued me. They were like colorful paintings with their banner-like shop signs, and because of the artistic formation of the letters they were quite beautiful; reds, greens, and blues mingled with gold and fluttered in the breeze. I was enchanted by the steep byways which they called ladder streets and which were lined with stalls containing various kinds of food—vegetables, fruit, and dried fish. There were vendors of all kinds of articles including birds in cages and exquisitely painted paper kites.

The letter writers interested me. They were usually seated at a table with writing material on it. I often looked with pity on those who had brought a letter to be read to them after which they would dictate the answer. They struck me as so pathetic as they watched the lips of the reader as he read, and his pen as he wrote the characters on the paper.

The fortune tellers were always in demand with their containers of sticks which were shaken before the sticks were selected and the future told. I was amused by the one who used a trained bird to select a card from the pack which would be closely studied by the seer who would then proceed to tell the future.

Everywhere there was teeming life and dire contrast. Here were the beggars with their begging bowls and the lost hopeless look in their eyes which haunted me long after I had dropped my coin in the bowl. I was astounded by my first glimpse of an imperious mandarin being carried in his sedan chair by six bearers while his train of attendants walked in two files on either side of him. Two of the members of his party carried gongs which were struck at intervals as the procession passed in order that all might know what majesty was in their midst. A placard was carried on high and on this was inscribed all the titles of the mandarin. It was interesting to see the awe with which shoppers and passers-by regarded this procession. Humble in the presence of such glory they stood eyes downcast and when one boy stared in frank amazement and forgot to bow his head he received a cut from one of the canes carried by two men in the party whose sole duty appeared to be to chastise those who failed to show the required respect.

In contrast to this proud spectacle were the rickshaw men—usually painfully thin and wizened, standing hopefully by their vehicles or running breathlessly through the streets with their burdens.

Each day I found something new to absorb my interest. But more than anything I was fascinated by The House of a Thousand Lanterns.

Since we had left home, each day had been filled with new experiences. There had been the sea voyage which had taken so many weeks and brought us halfway round the world. Other travelers found us an unusual party—myself, my older husband, our small child, and Sylvester’s servant Ling Fu. Jason was of an age to find everything that happened an adventure and yet at the same time to take it all for granted. We suffered the usual discomforts of such travel but I was delighted to find that we were moderately good sailors. Sylvester had made the journey many times and was well known to the captain and crew. It was convenient that this was so, for with his disability the voyage could have been an ordeal but so delighted was he to be on his way to Hong Kong that he seemed to gain new strength.

We dined often with the captain who regaled us with stories of adventure at sea; I was continually watchful of Jason for I was terrified that his adventurous spirit would lead him to some disaster. The voyage might be long but with so much to concern myself I could not call it tedious.

We called at various ports on the way round and to one like myself who had never been out of England except for my Paris honeymoon this was an exciting experience. Sylvester could not easily get ashore but he was determined that my pleasure should not be spoiled and often Jason and I would take a drive round some foreign city in the company of the captain or some of his officers.

By the time we reached Hong Kong the ship had become a home to me and I felt a curious sense of regret to be leaving her. This was soon submerged beneath the new experiences which crowded in on me.

When we landed it was to find Adam Milner waiting to meet us and with him was a rather thick-set pleasant man whom I imagined to be in his mid-thirties. He had a frank pleasant face and I took to him immediately. I guessed him to be Tobias Grantham, the manager of Sylvester’s Hong Kong branch, for Sylvester had told me a good deal about him. “He’s a canny Scot,” he had said. “He was in our Scottish office. His sister Elspeth keeps house for him. She thought she had to come out to protect him from the dangers of the East. A good upright woman, but as so many of her kind, sometimes a bit uncomfortable.”

Sylvester’s pleasure in being in Hong Kong and in seeing Tobias Grantham was obvious. He was delighted too that Adam had come to meet us. He had, I knew, always deplored the rift in the family and was pleased at any sign of bridging it.

Adam was cool to me but Tobias Grantham was most deferential. He remarked that Sylvester would find everything in order at The House. This I was to discover was the manner in which The House of a Thousand Lanterns was always referred to.

Two men in black trousers and tunics, their hair in pigtails with conical straw hats on their heads waited at a respectful distance. When Tobias gave a sign they collected the baggage which was available—most of it was in the hold and would be brought to us later—and put it into a rickshaw.

Jason clutching my hand watched everything with wondering eyes.

It was Tobias Grantham who spoke first to him. He said: “Is this young sir then?”

Jason replied: “I’m not a young sir. I’m a boy. I’m Jason.”

“Could be a young sir too,” replied Tobias.

The idea seemed to please Jason. Tobias knelt down so that their eyes were on a level. “Welcome to Hong Kong, young sir.”

“Are you a Chinaman?” asked Jason.

“No. As English as yourself.”

“Why aren’t you a Chinaman?”

“Because I’m not Chinese.”

Tobias stood up and smiled at me. “I hope you’ll be happy here, Mrs. Milner.”

“You’ll find it very different from England,” said Adam.

“I’m prepared for that,” I replied.

Adam handed me into the waiting rickshaw, then Sylvester was helped in and Jason sat between us.

“We’ll follow you when we’ve seen to the luggage,” said Tobias Grantham.

The rickshaw man took the shafts and we were off. Jason was roundeyed with wonder; I was more or less the same.

Sylvester smiled at me. “So we’re here, Jane.”

“It’s fantastic,” I said.

It was indeed. Everywhere there seemed to be rickshaws pulled by fragile-looking men, barefooted in the thin cotton trousers and tunics, their pigtails flapping as they ran.

We skirted the teeming streets with their beautiful signs rippling in the slight breeze; the air was full of strange smells the main ingredient of which seemed to be fish. It was like a series of colorful images flashing before the eyes but when I think back to that first day in Hong Kong the picture which dominates all others is that of The House of a Thousand Lanterns.

It was on the outskirts of Kowloon and surrounded by gardens so that it appeared to be more isolated than it was. We first came to a wall with a gate on either side of which was a stone dragon. An old man in the inevitable cotton trousers and tunic squatted at the side of this gate and as we drew up he stood up sharply, opened the gate and bowed low.

Sylvester called a greeting. There was almost a lilt in his voice. I could tell how excited he was to be here.

Our rickshaw man took us through the gate and we were in what appeared to be a courtyard; a path in delicately colored stones led to another wall and a door. We passed through this and were in a similar courtyard. I later discovered that the grounds were like a series of boxes without lids which fitted into each other. At the center of these was the house.

We had reached that center square and there it was: The House of a Thousand Lanterns. Before it was a lawn on which grew miniature shrubs and there was a small stream over which a little bridge had been set. It was like a doll’s garden. At the side of the house scattering petals from its purple blossoms stood a fully grown tree. It looked enormous in comparison with the miniatures. I had never seen such a tree before and later discovered it to be the Bauhinia.

I took all this in during a few seconds for I was aware of little else but the house. It was imposing and bore a resemblance to the houses I had seen on painted scrolls. It stood on a sort of platform paved with marble slabs of pink and white. There were four stories, each one protruding over the others; and it was made of some kind of golden stone which glittered when the sun caught it. It was built in the Chinese style with gilding and carving and there was a pergola over which myrtle was growing.

Lanterns had been set up at intervals along this pergola; there was one on either side of the porch and a big one hanging down over the center. I immediately thought: There must be a thousand such lanterns in this house.

“Mama, look,” screeched Jason. He had discovered the dragons on either side of the porch. “They’re like the ones at Roland’s Croft only bigger.”

I told him that he would probably see a great many dragons now. He put his finger into the mouth of one of the dragons and looked up at me to see if I were watching. He shivered with pleasure.

We mounted three steps and were on the marble platform where a Chinese servant appeared to materialize like the genii of the lamp; he opened the door.

We were in a hall which was paved with marble. Two wooden columns supported the roof it seemed for they disappeared through the ceiling on which a delicate design had been traced. The wooden pillars were painted red and there was a delicate tracery of gold. I looked closer and saw that the tracing represented the ubiquitous dragon.

The alien quality of the place enveloped me. I was not sure whether there really was an atmosphere of unfriendliness or whether it was merely the strangeness of everything that made me imagine this.

About the hall hung six lanterns. I found myself counting them. A thousand is a great many, I told myself. Where will they put them all?

A strange smell of something like incense was in the air and as we stood in the hall silent figures appeared. There were twelve of them—Sylvester’s servants who took care of this house when he was away.

They arranged themselves in a neat line and one by one they bowed first to Sylvester and then to me. Then they all knelt and bowed their heads so low that they touched the floor.

Sylvester stood for a moment surveying them; then he clapped his hands and they rose. He said: “Haou? Tsing, tsing!” which meant: “Are you well? Hail and Hail.” It was the conventional Chinese greeting. Then he said in English: “I am glad to be here. Peace be with you.” He took my hand and it was as though he were presenting me to them.

They bowed and inclined their heads acknowledging me.

Then they bowed to Jason.

“You shall be taken to the rooms which have been prepared for us,” said Sylvester. “You will get to know the servants in time.”

I thought I never would for they all looked alike to me.

Sylvester’s rooms were on the ground floor owing to his disability which prevented his mounting stairs easily. Leaving him and gripping Jason’s hand I followed a servant up the stairs. We came to a corridor. Lanterns hung from the ceiling. There were still more stairs to climb before we reached the apartment which had been allotted to me. I was pleased to find a small room leading from it which was to be Jason’s temporarily.

These rooms had been furnished in the European style, but there were one or two touches to remind me that I was far from home. The draperies were of blue satin embroidered in white silk. The bed was European with silk cushions and a coverlet to match. There were low stools instead of chairs, and a few delicately etched scrolls on the wall. There was a very fine mirror in a gilded wooden frame on a dressing table but it looked alien in this room. In fact the touches which I learned had been put there for my comfort seemed out of place. The carpet was rich Chinese depicting a fire-breathing dragon. Jason noticed it first of all and was on his knees studying it.

The room which led from mine and which was to be his for a time at least was a kind of dressing room. It was very simply furnished and I learned afterwards that Tobias had had these quarters prepared for us when he knew we were coming.

“I hope you will not be too tired to join me for dinner,” Sylvester had said.

Indeed I was not tired. My mind was stimulated by my new surroundings and I wanted to absorb as much as I could as quickly as possible.

Some of my bags arrived and I started to unpack as I faced a barrage of questions from Jason. This was a funny house, he said. He liked Roland’s Croft better. He wondered what Mrs. Couch was doing. Would she come here? He was momentarily sad when I told him this was unlikely but his mood soon passed. Like me he had too much that was new to interest him.

Some food was brought for him by one of the servants. He frowned at it; it wasn’t like the food he had had at Roland’s Croft nor on the ship, but he must have been hungry for he ate it. It was some kind of fish cooked with rice and there was fruit.

I wondered how he would feel about being left alone in his room while I dined with Sylvester. He was intrigued by the lantern which hung from the ceiling and which could be pulled down on a chain and then went up again on its own accord when released. I said it should be left burning all night. He would be perfectly safe with the communicating door left open.

This knowledge comforted him and he was asleep almost before he was undressed.

I left the door open, unpacked a few things, changed my dress and went down to find Sylvester.

When I shut my bedroom door the alien quality seemed to close round me.

I looked along the corridor at the rows of lanterns and was not sure which way to turn. There must have been about ten lanterns suspended from the ceiling. Every other one was alight. As I stood there a figure seemed to materialize at the end of the corridor.

A cold feeling of horror gripped me, and for a second I knew what people meant when they said they were paralyzed by fear, for if I had tried to move I should for a few seconds have been unable to. The light shed by the lanterns was sparse but that was a face looking at me out of the gloom. As the use of my limbs came back to me my first impulse was to run in the opposite direction. The figure had not moved. It appeared to be just standing there. I forced myself to take a step forward. Still it remained motionless. As I advanced it had taken on shape and I could see now that it was a statue of life-size proportions.

A figure of wood and stone. Nothing more. How could I have been so foolish? Because this house had lived in my imagination for so long I had built fantasies about it and now that I saw it, I had the feeling that it was even more mysterious, more strange, more menacing perhaps than I had imagined it.

I went close to the figure. It was Kuan Yin—the benevolent goddess. This one looked slightly less kindly than others I had seen. Her eyes seemed to look straight into mine… veiled eyes. I could almost imagine she was telling me to go away which was what a benevolent goddess would do to someone who was in danger.

In danger! Why should that have come into my mind? I thought of my son alone in his room while I was away.

That was absurd. I should be in the house.

I ran back to my room. Quietly I opened the door. I looked into Jason’s room. He was lying on his back, his eyes closed, his fingers gripping the edge of the sheet, a happy smile on his face. His dreams were evidently pleasant. I wanted to pick him up and hug him but I dared not for fear of awakening him. So I tiptoed out of the room, turned my back on the figure of Kuan Yin and found the staircase which I had ascended.

Sylvester had come out into the hall. He stood leaning on his stick watching me descend.

“Oh there you are, Jane,” he said. “Dinner is about to be served.”

He took my arm and leaned rather heavily on me as we went into the dining room. It was dim because the draperies had been drawn across the window and there was only the light from the lantern which hung from the ceiling.

There was something alien about the room, and I was discovering what it was. It was this mingling of East and West. The table and the chairs looked as though they had come out of a French château—so did the marble console table with the gilded legs. It was as though one culture had been overlaid with another.

Sylvester read my thoughts. He had an uncanny way of doing this which often disturbed me. I felt either he had special powers of discernment or I was too easy to read.

“Yes,” he said, as though continuing a conversation, “it’s not in keeping, is it? You’ll find that throughout the house. Western furniture has been brought in for greater comfort. But these rooms on the ground floor are all paneled which makes them more unusual still.”

We took our places at the table.

Immediately a servant brought in bowls of soup; the soup was appetizing and I must have been more hungry than I thought. We ate in silence while the servants padded in and out. The soup was followed by salted meat and fish served with rice and tea. There was also some kind of drink which was not unlike whisky and which Sylvester told me was made with rice.

The meal was something of a ceremony. I felt the servants were watching me intently and I was sure Sylvester, like myself, was relieved when it was over. We retired to a small room which was furnished like a study. It was dimly lighted by the lantern which hung from the ceiling.

“So, Jane,” said Sylvester, “we are here.”

“It’s hard to believe.”

He had seated himself in a carved chair and I sat on a pouf of embossed leather.

“What do you think of it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Too soon to decide,” he said. “But you’ll be fascinated. Everyone is. They undergo a change when they come into this house. The servants… everyone. Even my imperturbable nephew Adam is not as immune from its influence as he pretends to be.”

“He is a very taciturn young man.”

“Oh, he’s very serious. He’s more like me than any other member of the family. And that he should be Redmond’s son is extraordinary. He certainly doesn’t take after his father. Tobias would have liked to stay to dine with us, but I think this is not the time. Tomorrow we’ll talk business.”

“He must have a lot to tell you.”

“He intimated that. I want you to be present, Jane. I want you to learn as much as you can about the business. You’ll get to understand how things work out here much more than you could in London. We’ll get Tobias to show you over the warehouses down by the harbor. They’re called ‘Go-Downs’ here. You’ve a great deal to see.”

There was an excitement about him. He was delighted not only to be here but to have me with him. That he liked my company I knew but it was more than that even. He wanted me to learn his business; and I knew that he was thinking that one day Jason would control it and that I should be there to help him.

“And the house?” he said. “What do you think of the house?”

I looked over my shoulders for I had the eerie feeling that the house itself was listening.

“I have hardly seen it. It was almost dark when we arrived.”

“It is the strangest house I ever knew,” he said slowly. “There are some who say that it should never have been built.”

“Who says that?”

“The superstitious. It is built on the site of an old temple, you see. And there’s evidence of that. The pagoda was actually part of the temple.”

“What pagoda?”

“You haven’t seen it. It’s in the garden just beyond the outer wall. You’ll see it from your window in the morning. It’s rather fine. It’s built of stone and imbedded in the walls are colored stones which glisten in the sunshine… There are some amethysts and topaz. It’s a wonderful sight. The servants regard it as a holy place. They’re in awe of it.”

“Wasn’t the temple dedicated to Kuan Yin and wasn’t she supposed to be benevolent?”

“Yes, the Goddess of Mercy,” he said. “But even she, so they think, might not be pleased to find a house built where once her temple stood, and that house in the possession of a barbarian! Oh yes, we are all barbarians. They call us Fân-kuei, which means foreign ghost. We’re spirits or devils. Foreign devils they call us.”

“Not very complimentary.”

“I’m sorry to say that it implies a certain respect, for they respect what they fear.”

“Yet one of them gave this house to your grandfather.”

“Perhaps it was not a very suitable gift… but I’m glad he gave it to him. My father loved the place. He used to talk a great deal about it, and he left it to me not only because I was the eldest son but because he knew I had more feeling for the house itself than the others had. You will see for yourself in time, Jane. You feel the spell of the place. Now I think you must be tired for I am.”

He picked up a bell. It rang loudly through the room and Ling Fu appeared.

He did not need to be told that his master wished to be taken to his room.

I went to mine. I was tired yet I was not at ease. I undressed and went to bed, first having looked in at Jason who was sleeping.

I was undoubtedly tired but I could not sleep. I was actually in The House of a Thousand Lanterns. I kept thinking of my first sight of the house, the walls, the courtyards and the golden-colored building with the dragons on either side of the porch, the almost stealthy servants, the quiet of the house, the rugs so many of them depicting the fire breathing dragon, the atmosphere of East and West uneasily mingling. And the lanterns.

I longed for morning. I wanted to see the place in daylight. I wanted to go to the harbor with Sylvester and learn about the business that was conducted there. There was so much that I wanted to know and I was not sure what the discovery would bring.

I dozed and dreamed that I went from my room onto the landing and that the goddess there beckoned me in some strange way without moving at all and I could not stop myself from advancing towards her. When I was close a voice issued from her. “Go home, foreign ghost. There is nothing good for you here. For you do not belong, foreign devil, go away while there is time.”

“I can’t go,” I said. “I can’t. I must stay here…”

Her eyes changed. They were no longer benevolent; I felt myself caught in a cold vise.

“Let me go!” I cried and I was awake… but the nightmare was in the room. My hand was gripped… someone was there.

“Mama, Mama. I’m frightened.” It was Jason’s hand that was gripping me. “You were shouting.”

The relief was great. I drew him into my bed.

He was cold and he clung to me.

“There’s a dragon in my room,” he said.

“It was a nightmare,” I told him.

“He’s not there when I open my eyes. Fire comes out of his mouth.”

I said: “It was a dream.”

“Did you dream about him too?”

“I dreamed about something.”

“Shall I stay with you in case you have another dream?”

“Yes,” I said, “tonight we’ll stay together.”

I felt him relax.

“It was only a dream,” he said, soothing me.

“That’s all, Jason, only a dream.”

In a few minutes he was asleep. I was not long after. The warm body of my child gave me comfort in that strange house.

In the morning the house had lost much of its sinister aspect. It was fascinating and I wanted to explore it.

Sylvester spent the morning in bed for he was exhausted. He had arranged that in the afternoon we should go down to the warehouse and could look round while he had a conference with Tobias Grantham and his staff. I thought I would go on a tour of exploration and I decided that I would take Jason with me for I did not wish him to be left alone just yet in the house with servants whom he could not understand. When he had settled in and grown accustomed to the place it would be different.

There must have been some twenty rooms in the house. They were similar to each other, and all had the one feature—the hanging lantern from the center of the ceiling. These were in wrought iron and were beautifully engraved with figures of men and women. I wondered again if there could possibly be a thousand lanterns. One day I promised myself I would count them. In my tour of the house I encountered servants who bowed low and yet averted their eyes as I passed.

We went out into the courtyards and through the three gates into the grounds beyond. Jason loved the miniature gardens and I had to explain to him how the trees were stunted. His face puckered for he was a little sorry for them. “I think they’re unhappy,” he said. “They want to be big like other trees.”

And then we found the pagoda. Of course it was magnificent with its glittering walls and the wind bells which tinkled quietly when the breeze caught them.

“Oh look, Mama!” cried Jason. “It’s a castle… No it’s not. It’s a tower.”

“It’s a pagoda,” I said. And I knew it was the one of which Sylvester had spoken.

“What’s a pagoda?”

“That,” I answered.

“Who lives there?”

“No one now. It’s part of a temple.”

Jason was awestruck. We went through an arch where once there may have been a door. Inside was a strange smell of something like incense. And dominating the circular space was the well-known figure of the goddess. On either side of her burned a joss stick and it was this which had given out that pungent odor.

“What are they for?” whispered Jason.

“Someone has put them there for the goddess. They hope she will pray for them.”

“Will she?”

“She’s supposed to pray for everyone who asks.”

“But if she’s a goddess why does she have to pray for them? Why can’t she give them what they ask for?”

“Hush.”

“Is it like church?” whispered Jason.

“Yes, it’s like church.”

I looked up at the tall walls. I could see the sky through the roof. This pagoda must have stood for hundreds of years. It was here when there had been a temple where the house now stood. But the crumbling statue of the goddess still remained carved out of stone and there were those (they must be some of our servants) who still burned joss sticks to her.

We came out into the sunshine and I led Jason back to the miniature garden. He knelt and examined the tiny trees and the little bridge over the imitation stream. He was so enchanted with the garden that he forgot the temple.

I told him he might stay there for a while if he promised not to go beyond the wall. Then I left him and went into the house. Ling Fu appeared suddenly and told me that a visitor had arrived and Sylvester wished me to join him.

He led me to a room next to Sylvester’s bedroom which was furnished as a sitting room. Adam was there.

“I came to see if there was anything I could do,” he told me.

“That was thoughtful of you.”

“I was anxious, of course, about my uncle.” He turned to Sylvester. “I never thought you would make the journey.”

“Oh come, I’m not so incapacitated as all that.”

Adam sat down, crossing long legs. He looked elegant and there was no denying that he had a certain dignity. He wore a dark blue waistcoat and tightly fitting jacket; his shirt was very white with a frilly front and his cravat was of a blue to match his coat. The blue made his eyes seem less steely. On a table was his top hat and an ebony-topped walking stick.

“I suppose you will go to the Go-Down this afternoon,” he said.

“I hope to go this afternoon.” Sylvester turned to me. “That’s the warehouse. Did I tell you that they call them Go-Downs here? I couldn’t discuss anything of importance with Toby last night so I am eager to get down there at the earliest possible moment.”

“You rely very much on Tobias,” said Adam.

“I have never found any reason not to.”

“Do you ever think that one day he might like to strike out on his own?”

“Not everyone thinks along those lines.” Sylvester’s smile was quizzical. “It can be a hazardous undertaking,” he added.

I thought Adam’s expression hardened. He changed the subject abruptly by turning to me.

“You’ll find everything different here from at home,” he said. “The people most of all. Their outlook is not ours. Sometimes that makes communication difficult.”

“I have read a certain amount,” I told him. “Sylvester always kept me well supplied with books, so I don’t feel it’s as alien as it would otherwise have seemed. I think I shall adjust myself quickly.”

“You have a child to look after and I know you do a great deal for my uncle.”

“Jane knows a good deal about the business, too. I want her to come down to the Go-Down and hear what’s going on.”

Adam was silent for a few moments and I thought I detected a slightly scornful look about his mouth. Clearly he didn’t think I was capable of being much help. Then he said thoughtfully: “You need a companion… a kind of go-between, a maid perhaps.”

“There are plenty of servants,” said Sylvester. “She can take her pick.”

Adam shook his head. “That’s not quite what I meant. These people speak little English. She needs someone to help look after the child, someone who can go with her to the shops. She can hardly go alone.”

Sylvester looked uneasy.

“I could suggest someone,” went on Adam. “In fact I know the very one.” He turned to me. “You need someone who will make a bridge between you and the Chinese, someone who can be with you… someone who is more than a servant… someone who has enough English to talk to you about China and who will help you to understand the Chinese. I have the answer. She is a young girl—half Chinese, half English. She speaks English after a fashion. She has been brought up in a less closed household than most. I think Lotus Blossom is the girl for you.”

“What a beautiful name!”

“It’s the English version. It is pretty, and she is very… presentable. She is fifteen years old or so but that is not immature in China. I shall send her to you and if you like her… then you can keep her.”

“Who is this girl?” asked Sylvester.

“I’ve had dealings with her family. They’ll be glad to find a place for her. Yes, Jane, you must meet little Lotus Blossom and if you take a fancy to her you will find her a very useful companion. When you go shopping you will need her with you. She will bargain for you and in a manner be a kind of chaperone. She will help look after the child. You will find her useful in all manner of ways. That’s settled that point then.”

Sylvester said: “I realize that Jane will need someone. We may as well try this girl.”

“She shall be sent along to you,” replied Adam.

When he left Sylvester was thoughtful.

“Adam is determined to be agreeable,” he commented.

“You sound surprised that he should be,” I replied.

“Well, there was a rift and I saw little of him during the years preceding his father’s death. I have a notion that he would now like to join forces with me.”

“Would you want that?”

“No, not now. I have other plans.” He smiled at me warmly and I thought I understood. At one time Adam and Joliffe would have been his natural heirs. It was different now that Jason had appeared.

He changed the subject and talked to me about the district in the days when his father had been alive. Then the traders used to come out; they anchored in the harbor and the chief commodity they carried was opium. Fifty years had passed since the Opium War between Britain and China at the end of which the British flag had been hoisted over Hong Kong Island.

“It was nothing but a barren rock then. Now of course it’s thriving, flourishing. People are being ferried back and forth between the island and Kowloon hundreds of times a day. The whole place now is teeming with life. Tea is one of the most profitable exports. The climate’s suitable for it. It provides work for the people and revenue for the government. The Chinese are a hard-working race, Jane. It must have been a great day when the British flag was hoisted at Possession Point, and we’ve been prospering ever since. But you’ll get to understand something of the country although it will often leave you baffled.

Sylvester lay back in his chair looking tired.

“The idea of Tobias’s striking out on his own!” He laughed. “Yes, I think Adam might well be hinting that he would like to come back. I wonder how things are going with him. Not so well, I imagine. No doubt we shall see. Of course it is very easy in our business to make a mistake.”

“Could that really be so? He seemed so contented.”

“I know Adam well, Jane. He always puts on a good face. We could sink a great deal of capital into something which even though it’s intrinsically good has little sales value. Sometimes so much capital is locked up in our pieces that we could find it difficult without borrowing extensively to meet our creditors. My father and I were of a more cautious nature than Redmond and my brother Magnus. They could be led astray by their enthusiasms. I was never like that. Tobias has been trained by me. I can trust Tobias.”

“It is good of Adam to send this girl to us.”

“Oh yes, it’s a good idea. Well, this afternoon we shall go to the Go-Down.”

“Do you feel equal to it?”

“I have you to lean on. You can help me into the rickshaw and Tobias will be at the other end.”

I left my son in the care of Ling Fu, for on our journey out a friendship had sprung up between them. They said little but found a quiet contentment in each other’s company, and I knew Jason was safe with him.

The rickshaw took us down to the waterfront where the warehouse was and now I saw more distinctly than I had the day before the teeming life of the place. The rickshaw men running with their burdens, their feet bare, their conical hats tied under their chins with string and their pigtails flying aroused my pity because they appeared to be too fragile to pull the carriages and their occupants. There was noise and clamor and everywhere the ever persistent odor of fish. On the sea was the floating village—sampan after sampan side by side, the homes of families who had never known any other. In these little boats—some gaily painted, others dark and shabby, families had lived for generations. Lines of washing fluttered in the breeze and I saw a woman bathing a baby on the deck of one. Cooking smells filled the air. From one a boy was diving for coins which a European traveler was throwing into the water. He stood poised on the edge of his boat—like an etching against the sunlight—naked but for a loincloth. I saw people buying from a vegetable boat and Sylvester told me that these people who had lived in their boats all their lives had been born in them, bred in them, and rarely came ashore.

“If you could go inside one,” he went on, “doubtless you would see that an altar had been set up, and joss sticks were burning. You’d see a red lucky paper strip to drive away devils. Look at that lorcha there.” He indicated a boat which was bobbing on the water. “You can see the eyes painted on it. That is so that it can see its way. It would be very unlucky to go on the water in such a boat without eyes.”

“They seem to be very superstitious.”

“They are poor,” said Sylvester. “It is so important for them to have what they call good ‘joss.’ That is good fortune. So they burn their joss sticks in the temples or in their houseboats and they are careful not to arouse the wrath of dragons.”

People scurried about—mostly dressed in similar fashion—men and women alike in black trousers and jacket and often the conical hat to keep off the sun.

I saw a woman carrying such a heavy load that she could scarcely stagger; she was in black, her clothes dusty and shabby and she wore a hat with a black silk fringe.

Sylvester followed my gaze and told me that she was one of the Hakka women.

“They came from South China during the Yuen Dynasty and settled northwest of Hong Kong. They work hard, especially the women, and it’s mostly manual labor. You’ll see many of them in the fields.”

“They look as if they have a hard life.”

“Life is often hard for Chinese women.”

I commented on the overpowering smell of fish and Sylvester said: “Odd that it should have been called Heung Kong which means Fragrant Harbor.”

“A lovely name,” I said, “but hardly fitting at the moment.”

“No doubt before there was all this activity it was fragrant.”

The rickshaw had pulled up and we were at the Go-Down. Tobias was waiting for us and he helped me to alight first and then Sylvester.

Leaning on my arm on one side and his stick on the other, Sylvester entered the building with Tobias.

We went into a rather elaborately furnished office. There was a showcase in it and in this case were some very fine pieces of jade and rose quartz.

A chair was found for Sylvester who was glad to sit down after his exertion and when we were seated Tobias told us what had been happening during the years when he had managed the business with only postal communications to and from Sylvester.

Sylvester would see that trading had been good. He would know of course what had been bought of any interest and he himself had found some fine pieces in England. In spite of the fact that the last years had been difficult for some traders, Tobias had made out very well.

“What do you know of my nephew Adam’s affairs?” asked Sylvester. “You can speak before my wife. She shares my confidences.”

Tobias shrugged his shoulders. “I believe him to have had some difficulties”

“You don’t know the extent of these?”

“He would hardly confide in me, I’m afraid, but one hears rumors.”

“He is being very helpful to me and I wondered. Well, you can take my wife round the offices, Tobias. I will wait here and look through the books.”

So Toby, as I soon came to think of him, took me on a tour of the business premises. I was impressed. I had had no idea of the size of them. He explained so much to me, how goods were bought and shipped to various places all over the world, and what kind of works of art found the readier market.

“When a client is looking for one particular thing,” went on Toby, “the request would doubtless go out to several dealers like ourselves. So we would all be looking for the priceless piece for this one customer. The competition is keen. That’s what makes it so exciting. I understand, Mrs. Milner, that you will come here now and then to see how things are going.”

“I should like that. I did go occasionally to the London offices.”

“They’re a sort of clearinghouse. It is here that the main business is done.” He explained everything lucidly and I found myself liking him more every minute. There was a frankness about him which was appealing.

Before we rejoined Sylvester he said: “If you need anything at any time, Mrs. Milner, please send for me and I’ll always come and do what I can.”

I felt that I had found a friend.

It had been a very interesting session and I enjoyed discussing it with Sylvester all the way back to The House of a Thousand Lanterns.

II

I shall never forget the first time I saw Lotus Blossom. Adam himself brought her and I saw them standing together in Sylvester’s study, the tall Adam and this fragile girl.

Her name suited her for she was beautiful. She was tiny and dainty; her hair which she wore loose was jet black and glossy; it was only married ladies, she told me later, who made it into a bun. Her eyes were not slanted as much as most Chinese; her skin was lighter too; it was matte and clear and the more the shade of certain magnolia petals. She wore the traditional cheongsam, and hers was made of silk, pale blue in color with a delicate white pattern traced on it. The little standup collar, the simple lines which fitted her slight figure to perfection, the slit in the side of the skirt made her look like a doll.

As I went forward to greet them Adam said: “Oh, Jane, I have brought Lotus Blossom. Lotus, this is the mistress of the house, Mrs. Sylvester Milner.”

The girl bowed so low that I thought she was going down to the floor.

“Joy fills me to greet Great Lady,” she said in a quaint voice which was as charming as everything else about her.

“I’m glad you have come,” I answered.

“Very good news,” she said. “I hope I serve you well.”

“My husband will wish to see you,” I told her.

Lotus Blossom’s eyes opened wide. She looked fearful.

Adam laid his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “All will be well, never fear. You will serve this lady well and in turn for that she will care for you.”

“I hope I serve her well,” said Lotus Blossom in a faintly apprehensive voice.

“I am sure we shall get along together,” I said.

In the study Sylvester sat dozing in his chair.

“Sylvester,” I cried, “your nephew has arrived with the little Chinese girl.”

“Bring them, Jane. Ah, here is the child.”

Lotus went forward and this time knelt and placed her forehead on the carpet.

“My dear child, there is no need to do that. Come here. I understand you speak English.”

“I have learn,” she answered. “I very bad speaker.”

“You will improve here,” said Sylvester, and I smiled affectionately remembering how he was always eager that people about him should learn. “Sit down and Ling Fu will bring tea.”

I placed myself opposite the girl for I was fascinated by the delicate fluttering of her hands, the graceful manner in which she moved, and those bright slanting eyes which were smiling, humble yet proud, candid yet inscrutable. I noticed that she was intent on every movement of what Sylvester called the tea ceremony. And when the tray was placed before me she rose and took the cups from me as I poured out and presented one first to Sylvester then to Adam.

“And this is yours,” I said.

She looked dismayed. “But you first. Great Lady. I should not take.”

I assured her that she could and I compromised by serving myself first and then pouring one for her. She took the cup gravely. I noticed that Adam watched her intently. I was not surprised for she was lovely to behold. He seemed very eager for us to like her and he clearly thought her charming.

“Lotus Blossom will do all sorts of things for you,” he said. “You will soon be wondering how you managed without her. She will help with the child. You are a good nurse, are you not, Lotus? And you will teach Mrs. Milner something of the customs that prevail here.”

Lotus Blossom sat very still, her hands folded, her eyes downcast, her pose one of extreme humility. She looked as though she had stepped out of one of the Chinese scrolls.

In a few days she had become part of the household. I was delighted with her. She was so gentle, so eager to please, and I was enchanted by her exotic beauty.

Jason had taken a great fancy to her. He confided to me that she was funny but nice. She called him Little Master, a term which he relished. In return he called her Lottie, and somehow the name began to be used by us all. Perhaps it was a pity; she was like a flower but Lottie seemed better for everyday use.

She was amused by it.

“Very good,” she said. “I have family name. It makes me a family.”

Her English was quaint and I was not so eager as Sylvester was to change it, for the manner in which she spoke suited her.

It was through Lottie that I began to understand something of the land in which I was living. What to me was quite extraordinary was to her quite natural, and once she had overcome her awe of me and I had broken her of the habit of bowing low every time she saw me, she began to chatter freely.

“Perhaps I never come to serve Great Lady,” she said, “but for the big Tai Pan.” I discovered that she was referring to Adam’s father.

“One day he find me in the street. I am left there. Perhaps I will die of cold for it was winter. Perhaps the wild dogs will come along and eat me. Instead comes the Tai Pan.”

“In the street. What were you doing there?”

“Little girl child.” She shook her head. “Girl child are no good. They not wanted. Boy child is treasure. He will grow up and work for his father, he will look after him in old age. Girl child…” She made a gesture of disdain and shook her head. “No good. Perhaps marry but too long to keep. So girl child is put into street. She will die of cold or starve or the dogs will have her… and if by morning none of these have happen she is swept up and put in the pit with the dead ones and buried there.”

“This is not possible.”

“Is possible,” she replied firmly. “Girl child no good. There I would die but big Tai Pan find me and he take me to Chan Cho Lan to live in her house; I have English father. Not good. Not Chinese… not English… not good.”

A pitiful story I thought, the liaison between East and West and the result was that this exquisite child had been put out into the streets to die.

I asked Sylvester if this could be true.

“Oh yes,” he replied, “it is a shameful custom. I have heard that four thousand female babies perish during a year in Peking alone. These poor innocent creatures whose only fault is to be born female are abandoned, and starving dogs and swine are let loose to devour them.”

“It’s monstrous!”

Sylvester shrugged his shoulders. “They must be judged against their times, their customs and beliefs. The poverty of these people is hard to conceive. They cannot afford to feed their girls from whom they gain little. The women of China are little more than slaves.”

“And she was really found?”

“Yes, by my brother Redmond. I remember now hearing of it. He brought the child in from the streets and found a home for her.”

“Why did he choose her amongst all the girl babies which must have been exposed on that night?”

“It was luck for Lotus Blossom that he came across her. ‘Good Joss’ she would call it. It would seem to her that the gods had some special reason for preserving her.”

Her coming into the house had had a great effect on me. So fragile, so dependent she seemed at times, at others she would assume the role of protectress. The rickshaw would take us into the center of the town and we would shop together. She would bargain with the traders while I stood by, marveling at the manner in which her gentle humility changed to shrewdness. The soft accents would become indignantly shrill as she and the salesman berated each other. I feared they would come to blows, but she assured me that it was all part of the business of buying and selling and expected.

With her, I felt completely at home in those alien streets, and because she was with me I attracted less attention than I would with someone of my own race. She would chatter away in her own tongue and then turn to me and make some acid comment such as “He very dishonest man. He ask too much. He think he get from you because you not Chinese.” Her voice would become strident, her flower-like hands would express contempt and outrage. I never ceased to find pleasure in watching her. Together we would explore the alleys known as Thieves’ Market. There would be displayed antiques of all description, among them Buddhas, some in ivory, jade, and rose quartz. They fascinated me and whenever we had an hour to spare I would want to go there. There were also vases, ornaments, and scrolls. I delighted in assessing their age. Once I bought a Buddha in rose quartz and delightedly took it back to the house for Sylvester’s inspection. I had found a bargain he assured me; and I remember now how when I told Lottie she took the figure and hugged it ecstatically to her little breast; then she knelt and took my hand and said: “I will serve you as long as I live.”

She charmed me in a hundred ways and soon I couldn’t imagine the household without her.

I gave lessons to Jason every day and Lottie came to join them. They would sit at the table and Jason would labor over his copperplate writing, his tongue peeping out from one side of his mouth as though to inspect what his hands were doing. Lottie was learning to write too and we all read together in English. I had brought books with me, some old annuals which I had had as a child and which contained colored pictures and stories with a moral.

Both of them would listen gravely to these stories and then they would read them aloud. I was very happy with them and there was no doubt that Jason was growing fond of Lottie. She had become nurse to him; they would play in the gardens together. Often I would see them from my window walking hand in hand.

I was beginning to love the little half-Chinese girl. She was very accomplished and could embroider and paint exquisitely on silk. I liked to watch the beautiful Chinese characters flow from her hand when she wrote.

“You teach me to speak better English,” she said. “I teach you Chinese.”

Sylvester was delighted at the thought of so much learning going on.

“You will find it a difficult language,” he warned me. “But if you could master even the rudiments it would be of great use to you. The original Chinese characters were simply hieroglyphics like the ancient Egyptian ones. It’s important of course that you should understand the modern language. The Sung-te is the form used in printing. It’s very beautiful as you’ve noticed.”

I smiled inwardly but affectionately. Sylvester always made me feel like a student and I had never lost my desire to shine in his eyes. It was a strange relationship for husband and wife but then ours was no ordinary marriage.

“It was an excellent plan of Adam’s to send the girl to us,” he said. “It’s good for Jason. He’ll get to understand something of the Chinese way of life and she’ll be a help in that. I’ve plans for Jason.”

I guessed what those plans were. He wanted my son to learn, from him and me, the joy of buying and selling works of art, the eternal quest for the masterpiece which never flags. And how could he better be inspired than by living here where these particular treasures might be found?

I had discovered that Sylvester was a very rich man—the house in England, this one here, the warehouses on the waterfront, the offices in London, meant that his interests stretched far and wide. Since he had been in sole control his business had extended considerably. I wondered often how much Adam’s attentions to us were due to a desire to join forces with him again.

Sylvester talked of his nephew now and then. He was undoubtedly pleased that they were friendly. I gathered that at the time his father Redmond had broken away the relationship between them had been very cool indeed. Sylvester had a high opinion of Adam, and I was sure that had things not turned out in the way they had he would very likely have made Adam his heir. He was quite obviously the favorite of the two nephews. Sylvester’s opinion of Joliffe was not very good. I imagined that he had always thought him irresponsible, but in view of what had happened he had no time for Joliffe now.

I understood the way in which Sylvester’s mind was working. He looked on Jason as his own son and wanted to make him his heir. Everything had changed since the birth of my boy. I wondered how much Adam guessed of this.

I found Adam somewhat taciturn and I had the impression that he disliked me. I was not really surprised, for if he had an inkling of what was in Sylvester’s mind he would naturally be displeased that my son might displace him and that would be very galling, especially if his own business was not flourishing.

I was growing more and more friendly with Tobias Grantham. It was a great pleasure to go down to the warehouse when Sylvester was not feeling well enough as I used to go to the London office. There I would work a while with Toby. We would have tea together sometimes in his office and once he took me to his home where I met his sister. She was a stern-faced woman several years his senior and to enter her neat little house was like being transported to Edinburgh. Her accent was more pronounced than Toby’s and she was inclined to be censorious of anything alien to the Scottish way of life, a rather uncomfortable woman, as Sylvester had said; but her devotion to her brother was obvious and I found myself liking her in spite of a rather prim and unrelenting manner.

I enjoyed those occasions very much and with this and the change Lottie had brought into the house I began to feel a kind of quiet contentment. Sometimes I recalled the ecstasy I had known with Joliffe and he would refuse to be dismissed from my thoughts. He would be back in England now and I often wondered what was happening between him and Bella. I knew that I would never again feel the ecstasy I had shared with him and sometimes in the loneliness of the night the bitter sorrow would envelop me and I would long to see him again.

But in the morning when Jason stood by my bedside and climbed in with me I would be assuaged. He would read to me as I lay dozing, for now that he was able to read he read everything that came within his reach. Then Lottie would come in—demure in blue trousers and tunic, her long hair tied back with a turquoise blue ribbon and she would bow and wish a happy day to Great Lady and Little Master.

One day she had taken Jason out to the pagoda—it was a favorite place of theirs; they used to sit inside it while she told him stories of dragons. He could never hear enough of the beasts. They had fascinated him from the moment he had discovered one outside the gates.

The rain had fallen in torrents and when they came in they were soaked to the skin. I made Jason take off all his wet clothes and rubbed him dry with a towel. Then I made him put on dry clothes.

I turned to Lottie and noticed that she was still wearing her wet shoes.

Take them off at once, Lottie. Here are some slippers.”

She looked at me in dismay and puzzled, I pushed her into a chair and pulled off her shoes before she could answer.

Then she did a strange thing. She picked up her wet shoes and ran out of the room.

When Jason was dressed I went to find her. She was lying on her bed on her back and the tears ran slowly down her cheeks.

“Whatever’s the matter, Lottie?” I demanded.

But she would only shake her head.

“Lottie,” I said, “if anything is wrong you must tell me.”

Still she only shook her head.

“You know I am fond of you, Lottie. I want to help you. Do tell me what is wrong.”

“You will hate me. You will find me ugly.”

“Hate you! Find you ugly. Nothing could be farther from the truth. You know that. Tell me. Perhaps I can put right whatever is wrong.”

She shook her head. “It can never be right. It is forever and you have seen…”

I was puzzled, not having the faintest notion of what she was talking about. “Lottie,” I said, “if you don’t tell me what is wrong I will think you are not fond of me after all.”

“No, no,” she cried in distress. “It is because I have reverence for Great Lady that I so ashamed.”

“Is it something you have done which makes you ashamed?”

“It was done to me,” she said tragically.

“Now Lottie I am going to insist that you tell me.”

“You have seen my feet,” she said.

“Why Lottie,” I said, “what do you mean?” I took her little foot in my hand and kissed it.

“Peasant’s feet,” she said. “Coolie’s feet. No one cared for them when I was little.”

I was horrified. I knew that she was referring to the fact that unlike so many Chinese girls her feet were perfect because they had not been bandaged in such a way as to distort them when she was a child.

This seemed to me very pathetic. I tried to comfort her. I told her how fortunate she was to have a pair of perfect feet.

I could not convince her though.

She only shook her head and silently wept.

I was gradually and almost imperceptibly becoming accustomed to the social life of Hong Kong.

I met Adam now and then; my feelings for him changed a little when I saw him handling a beautiful Ming vase and forgetting his animosity to me—of which I had been conscious since I met him—he explained its quality to me. The coldness disappeared then; he seemed vital and so earnest that in spite of myself I found I was warming towards him. He still lived in a tall narrow house near the waterfront, which he had shared with his father until the latter’s death. Like The House of a Thousand Lanterns it was half European half Chinese, and many Chinese servants moved silently about the place.

Jason seemed to have forgotten already that he had known any other life. Only rarely now did he talk of Mrs. Couch with regret. Lottie was ample compensation. At times it seemed that they were two children playing together; at others she assumed great wisdom and a quaint air of authority which he recognized. It was a comfort and pleasure to observe how fond they were of each other and as I knew he was safe with her I allowed him when he was with her to go beyond the four walls which enclosed the house. Lottie had procured for him a kite made of silk and split bamboo. This kite was Jason’s most cherished possession. It was beautifully made and on it was a delicate painting of a dragon. Lottie had done this herself knowing his interest in such animals. From the dragon’s mouth issued fire. In the kite were little round holes supplied with vibrant cords, so that when the kite was flying there came from it a humming sound similar to that which would be made by a swarm of bees. Jason rarely went anywhere without his kite; he kept it near his bed so that it was the last thing he saw before closing his eyes and the first on opening them. He called it his Fire Dragon.

Lottie was delighted that a gift of hers should give such pleasure, and I told Adam how grateful I was to him for having brought her to me.

He replied that he believed he had earned double gratitude from me and from Lottie.

There was no doubt that she was forming a bridge for me. The more I knew Lottie, the more I began to understand the Chinese. I could even speak a little of their language; I learned a great deal of their customs; and I was completely absorbed by everything around me.

There was one thing that continued to be sadly missing in my life. I still longed for Joliffe. While I had been expecting Jason and in the first year or so of his life he had absorbed it, but now that he was growing up and acquiring a little independence I began to be more and more aware of that aching emptiness. I was a normal woman; I had known a period of happy marriage and I wanted Joliffe.

How sensitive Sylvester was, how discerning. He understood me far more than I ever understood him. From the moment I had entered his house, he once told me, he had been aware of a strong affinity. He had known that I was to be important in his life.

“Things changed,” he said, “when you came. I think it started at the moment I saw you in that room with the yarrow sticks in your hand. When you went off with Joliffe I was desolate. It seemed as though the pattern had gone wrong. I was unhappy not only because of my loss but for you. I knew you had made a mistake. That you and I should marry seemed incongruous at that time. I knew that in normal circumstances you would not think of me as a husband. But you see how fate worked… and here we are together… as I know we were intended to be.”

This mingling of mysticism and shrewd business instincts was surprising and yet I suppose Sylvester was no more complex than other people, for I was learning that we are all a mass of contradictions.

In any case he was very kind and considerate to me. He understood, even more than I, the meaning for my restlessness. He knew that I longed for Joliffe.

“You should ride now and then,” he said. “Adam has stables. I’ll ask him to find a good mount for you. Tobias can accompany you.”

Then I began to see more of the country. I saw the paddy fields where the rice—the staple food of China—grew. I saw the manner in which the land was irrigated and watched the working of the water wheel. I saw the ploughs which were sometimes drawn by asses or mules, oxen and water buffalo or even men and women; I saw the tea plants which was one of the main sources of China’s wealth and learned the difference between souchong, hyson, and imperial bohea. I watched the fishermen with their nets and wicker traps and I believed Toby when he told me that China gets more from one acre of land than any other country.

I would enjoy my rides with Toby. We had become the greatest friends; we shared jokes and our minds were in tune. He knew a great deal about the Chinese and we would discuss the mysticism of the East and then go to his house for tea and a douche of Scottish common sense from his sister Elspeth. I looked forward to these occasions so much that I began to think that if I had never met Joliffe and was not now married to Sylvester I could have quietly fallen in love with Toby. Well, perhaps that is not the way to describe it. Having once fallen in love the term had a special meaning for me and I knew that I could never recapture the ecstasy I had known with Joliffe. The fact was that I was beginning to feel a deep affection for Toby.

Adam noticed my growing friendship with Toby. Typically he took action and when I went to the stables for my horse, I found him there too.

“I shall accompany you and Tobias,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows. He certainly had a rather irritating didactic manner.

“Oh,” I said, “did Toby invite you to join us?”

“I invited myself,” he said.

I was silent and he went on: “It’s better so. The two of you are so much together.”

“So you are here as a sort of chaperon?”

“You could call it that.”

“I’m sure that is unnecessary.”

“In some respects, yes, but there is a certain amount of comment.”

“Comment?”

“People have noticed. They talk, you know. It’s not good… for the family.”

“What nonsense. It was Sylvester who suggested Toby should accompany me.”

“Even so, I will come.”

When Toby arrived he showed no great surprise to see Adam. We rode off together. Adam was interesting and informative but his presence had a sobering effect on us.

After that I became accustomed to these threesome rides and in time Adam seemed to unbend a little and the three of us would talk about Chinese Art and treasures so enthusiastically that the rides became as enjoyable as ever.

One day when we came near to the waterfront we saw a big blaze in the sky.

We spurred up our horses to see where the fire was and to our honor it was discovered that it was Adam’s home. I shall never forget the change in him.

He leaped from his horse and ran. I heard afterwards that he had gone into the house and rescued one of the Chinese servants—the only one who was trapped in that blazing furnace.

Everyone else was safe but it did mean that Adam was without a home.

It was only natural that he should come to The House of a Thousand Lanterns. Sylvester insisted on it.

“There’s plenty of room here,” he said. “I should be offended if you did not come.”

“Thank you,” replied Adam stiffly. “But I promise you I shall do my best to find somewhere to live as quickly as possible.”

“My dear nephew,” protested Sylvester, “you know very well there is no need to hurry. You have had a great shock. Don’t think about burning. We shall be delighted to have you. Isn’t that so, Jane?”

I said of course we should.

Adam looked at me ruefully, and I was reminded of the first time we had met when I had had the impression he had thought me something of an adventuress.

I was almost certain that he regarded me as an interloper.

The fire had gutted the house. It was nothing but a shell. Adam ruefully told us that although it was insured he had lost some valuable pieces which were irreplaceable. He was very disconsolate. He told me in detail what had been lost and I commiserated with him. “We might never again find such pieces,” he mourned.

“There’s a kind of challenge in the search though,” I reminded him. “You won’t find the same pieces, of course, but might there not be something equally rewarding?”

He looked at me quizzically and with a sudden intuition I realized he was comparing my tragedy with his. I had lost Joliffe; he had lost his treasured collection. Might we not both find something equally compensating?

From that moment my relationship with Adam changed. It was as though he cast off a mask which revealed new phases of his character. I came to the conclusion that he was a man who armed himself against life because of something he feared from it; now it was as though he had laid aside some of his defensive weapons.

We entertained now and then. There was quite a social life in the colony.

“The English community sticks together here,” Sylvester explained to me. “Naturally we visit each other’s houses.”

We gave the occasional dinner party and sometimes visited friends who had known Sylvester and his family for years. I enjoyed these parties and once or twice when Sylvester was not well enough to attend them, he insisted that I go with Adam. The conversation was usually lively and although it was not always about Chinese Art, manners, and customs, which Sylvester so much enjoyed, it often revolved round the affairs of the place.

I was beginning to settle into this way of life.

One day Lottie came to my bedroom. She looked enchantingly secretive, her dark eyes sparkling.

“Great Lady, I have big favor to ask,” she said.

“What is it Lottie?”

“Very great lady begs you visit.”

“Begs me visit her? Who is this great lady?”

Lottie bowed as though in reverence to some absent deity. “Chan Cho Lan asks you come.”

“Why does she ask me? I don’t know her.”

Lottie’s face puckered. “Great Lady must come. If not Chan Cho Lan lose face.”

I knew that the last thing any Chinese wished to do was to lose face. So I said: “Tell me more about this lady.”

“Very great lady,” said Lottie in awestruck tones. “Daughter of mandarin. I was in her house when I am little girl. I serve her.”

“And now she wishes to see me.”

“She asks if honorable great lady will visit her miserable house. You not come she lose bad face.”

“Then I must go,” I said.

Lottie smiled happily. “I serve her… I serve you. So she see you and she say ‘How does that miserable one who once serve me and now serve you?’”

“I shall say that I am fond of her and she is certainly not miserable.”

Lottie lifted her shoulders and giggled—a habit which some might have found irritating because it could indicate embarrassment, sorrow or pleasure so that one could never quite be sure of her feelings. I found it rather charming.

And so I went to the house of Chan Cho Lan.

I was surprised that we had no need of a rickshaw. The house was quite close to ours. I had been unaware of it because it was surrounded by a high wall. So Chan Cho Lan was our nearest neighbor.

I left Jason with Ling Fu, and Lottie and I walked the short distance. A Chinese servant opened the gate for us and we went into the courtyard. The lawn was very similar to our own. There were the miniature trees and shrubs and a bamboo bridge. These were dwarfed by the great banyan tree which spread itself over the grass.

I was astonished at the sight of the house which was almost an exact replica of The House of a Thousand Lanterns with one exception—the lanterns were missing.

The tinkle of wind bells sounded like a gentle warning as we approached. A man in black trousers and frogged tunic appeared suddenly. Pigtailed and conical-hatted, he bowed. Then he clapped his hands. Lottie walked past him and we mounted two steps to the marble platform on which the house was built. A door opened and we stepped inside.

A gong sounded and two more Chinese who seemed identical to those I had seen before came towards us bowing.

They signed us to follow them.

It was gloomy in the house and I was immediately aware of the silence. The same uneasiness struck me as that which I had experienced when I had first entered The House of a Thousand Lanterns.

In what appeared to be a hall, two Chinese dragons stood side by side at the foot of a staircase; the walls were hung with embroidered silk and I knew enough to realize that they depicted the rise and the fall of one of the dynasties. I couldn’t help attempting to assess their value, such a collector had I become. I should like to have examined them more closely and I immediately thought of bringing Adam here and asking his opinion.

Lottie was signing to me that we must follow the servant.

He pushed aside a curtain and we were in another room. Here again the walls were hung with similar exquisitely embroidered silk. Beautifully colored Chinese rugs were on the floor. There was no furniture but a low table and a number of tall cushions—rather like the articles we called poufs at home.

We stood waiting and then Chan Cho Lan came into the room.

I was startled at the sight of her. Beautiful she undoubtedly was, but hers was a different beauty from the fresh and natural kind I so admired in Lottie. This was the cultivated beauty—the orchid from the hothouse rather than the lily of the field.

I could not take my eyes from her. She could have stepped right out of a painting of the Tang period.

She did not so much walk as sway towards us. I later heard the movement described as the waving of a willow stirred by a faint breeze and this described it aptly. Everything about Chan Cho Lan was graceful and completely feminine. Her gown was of silk of the palest blue very delicately embroidered in pink, white and green; she wore trousers of the same silk material; her abundant black hair was dressed high on her head and two bodkins stuck in crosswise held it in place. Jewels sparkled in her hair in the form of a Chinese phoenix (the foong-hâng, Lottie afterwards told me, for she talked of Chan Cho Lan ecstatically when we returned to The House of a Thousand Lanterns). The face of this exquisite creature had been delicately painted and her eyebrows curved to what Lottie called the young leaflet of the willow but which reminded me of a new moon.

A delicate aroma clung to her. She was a creature made to adorn any place in which she happened to be. I was very curious as to who she was and what her life had been.

She bowed to me and I was indeed reminded of the willow tree as she swayed on her tiny slippered feet. I thought immediately of Lottie’s distress about her own feet and I guessed that Chan Cho Lan had not escaped the torture. I felt awkward and I wondered what she thought of me.

“It was gracious of you to come,” she said slowly as though she had learned the phrase off by heart and was repeating a lesson.

I replied that it was even more gracious of her to invite me.

She fluttered her hands. They were beautiful hands and she wore nail shields of jade. Her nails must have been about three inches long. Lottie indicated to me that I should be seated so I sat on one of the cushions; Lottie remained standing until Chan Cho Lan gracefully sat.

Again there was a flutter of the hands and Lottie sat down. Chan Cho Lan clapped her hands. I heard the sound of a gong from without and a servant came into the room.

I could not understand what was said but the servant disappeared and almost immediately a round japanned tray was carried in and there began the tea ceremony with which I was now very familiar.

Lottie performed it with grace and I could see that she was nervous because the eyes of her one-time mistress were upon her.

She carried the porcelain cup to me first and then to Chan Cho Lan and sat waiting permission to take tea herself. This was graciously granted. The dried fruits and sweetmeats were brought in and with them the little forks with which we selected them. I showed my appreciation of these with smiles.

“You have taken this miserable girl into your noble house,” she said. Lottie hung her head.

I replied that our house was enriched by Lottie’s presence. I then began to extoll her virtues. I told her that I was a stranger and that Lottie was teaching me to understand her country.

Chan Cho Lan sat nodding. I told her how Lottie looked after my son, and how fond he had become of her.

“You happy lady,” she said. “You have fine man child.”

“Yes,” I said, “I have a fine boy. Lottie will tell you that.”

Lottie nodded and smiled.

“Miserable girl must serve you well. If not you use bastinado.”

I laughed. “There’s no question of that. Lottie is like a daughter to me.”

There was an imperceptible silence and I realized I had startled them, but Chan Cho Lan was too well mannered to express surprise.

Lottie brought more sweetmeats and I took one with the little twopronged fork.

Chan Cho Lan then spoke to Lottie. Her voice was low and musical and she moved her hands beautifully as she spoke. I could not understand her but Lottie translated.

“Chan Cho Lan say that you must take care. She happy I am there to look out for you. She say The House of a Thousand Lanterns is a house where there can be much bad. It is built where once was temple, she says. It may be goddess not pleased that people live where once she was worshipped. Chan Cho Lan wish you to take care.”

I asked her to tell Chan Cho Lan that I was grateful to her for her concern, but I did not think any harm would come to us as I believed the temple had been Kuan Yin’s and she was the good and benevolent goddess.

Chan Cho Lan spoke again and Lottie translated: “It might be that Kuan Yin lose face because people live where once there was her temple.”

My answer was that the house had stood for more than a hundred years and was still standing and it seemed no harm had come to anyone.

I caught the words fân-kuei in Chan Cho Lan’s reply and I knew that meant a foreign ghost, spirit or devil, the term used to describe those not Chinese. And I knew she meant that although the goddess might not object to Chinese living on the site of her old temple she might object to foreigners.

But the house had been in the possession of Sylvester’s grandfather and no ill fortune had come to him. I told Lottie this, but whether she explained it or not I don’t know.

A look from Lottie told me that it was time to take my leave.

I rose and Chan Cho Lan immediately rose too. The perfume which came from her as she moved was strange and exotic—like a mixture of frangipani and roses, as exquisite as herself.

She bowed and said that she was gratified that a noble lady had honored her miserable abode.

She clapped her hands and the servant came to take us out.

It had been a strange encounter. I couldn’t understand why Chan Cho Lan had wanted to see me. Perhaps, I thought, she was anxious for Lottie’s welfare and wanted to make sure that her one-time maid had a good home. On the other hand she might have been curious to see the mistress of The House of a Thousand Lanterns.

I was beginning to understand a little of these people and I knew that one could never be sure what they meant. What appeared to be the obvious reason for a certain line of conduct would scarcely ever prove to be the true one.

Lottie behaved as though she were in a trance. She was a little sad too. I believed it was due to the fact that she would never be able to totter along like a willow in the wind because she had two perfectly normal feet that would comfortably carry her wherever she wanted to go.

That beautiful creature was a woman and therefore probably interested in other women. I wondered whether Lottie saw her now and then and talked of me. Perhaps this was it and she had wanted to see what I really looked like.

And she had thrown in the warning about the house for good measure.

III

I had been to the Go-Down to see Toby on some special business which Sylvester had wished to be cleared up. I was often able to do this for him. The rickshaw would take me to the warehouse and wait for me and bring me back. Toby was always delighted to see me. He was a very good businessman and entirely loyal to Sylvester and I sensed that he was often uneasy as to his growing feelings for me. He told me once that Sylvester had given him his big chance. He had at one time worked in the Cheapside office and when he was about sixteen his father had remarried. Toby had been devoted to his mother who had died a year before the second marriage. His sister Elspeth left home when their father remarried and went away to teach in Edinburgh. The position had become intolerable to Toby; his stepmother, he realized, was a worthy woman but he could not endure to see anyone in his mother’s place. Sylvester had understood his feelings and his remedy had been to send him out to the Hong Kong branch. There Toby said he had been able to see things clearly and how wrong he had been to grudge his father his happiness.

He was constantly harping on his gratitude to Sylvester. I understood perfectly. As for myself I knew I would never feel strongly about anyone again. All I could hope for was to drift along in comparative peace and accept the way of life which was left to me.

On this occasion I came back to the house and I heard voices in Sylvester’s sitting room.

Adam was with him. I thought he looked rather grim but when I came in they stopped talking abruptly.

After Adam had gone, Sylvester said to me: “Adam almost suggested that he join up with me.”

“You mean in business?”

Sylvester nodded. “He was saying that I should rest more, that I needed someone to take the burden from my shoulders and so on. I told him that Tobias was a fine manager and that with you here and everyone at the Go-Down, I manage very nicely.”

“Perhaps, after all, it would be a good idea if he were to join you. You have a high opinion of his skill.”

“No,” said Sylvester very firmly. “I know my nephews, both of them. It’s a sort of arrogance they have. All of us have it. Redmond and Magnus did too. We all think we know best. That’s why we couldn’t work together. We all want to be the Tai Pan. Adam was very complimentary to you, Jane.”

“Oh?”

“But he said that it was difficult for a woman to deal with sly traders.”

“Did he indeed.”

Sylvester laughed. “You’ll show him that you can do as well as he can. That’s the spirit, Jane.” He looked at me intently. “You’ve got a rare business instinct,” he went on. “I have no qualms about the future.”

The days were passing quickly. Christmas came. It was not, of course, celebrated in China and we kept it very quietly in The House of a Thousand Lanterns. There was no Christmas tree which was a pity for Jason remembered the previous Christmas when Mrs. Couch had presided over the table in the servants’ hall and the pudding had been brought in surrounded by brandy flames. I did fill his stocking though and one for Lottie which amused and delighted her.

We were, however, approaching the Feast of Lanterns. There were often festivals and it sometimes seemed to me that the people were either placating, adoring, or abusing the dragon. They appeared to be obsessed by the creature, so magnificently portrayed in their art, but this particular feast had nothing to do with that mythical monster. The Feast of the Lanterns seemed particularly our feast for we lived in the house which was said to contain a thousand.

This feast took place on the night of the first full moon of the new year.

Sylvester had seen it many times, and he delighted in informing me about it.

“It’s really one of the most tasteful of the entertainments,” he said. “The object seems to be for people to show each other what beautiful lanterns they can contrive. It is a delightful spectacle and you will see lanterns of all shades and colors and of all kinds of designs in the processions. Then there will be fireworks across the harbor and you can be sure there will be a dragon or two.”

I looked forward to it. “It is I suppose of special significance to us,” I said.

“Oh you mean because of the house.” He laughed. “I suppose so.”

Lottie told me that the servants were saving that we should have a special celebration to placate the goddess because this was the house of the lanterns and perhaps if she were shown that we appreciated living in a house built on her temple she would not lose face with the other gods and goddesses.

I told Sylvester this and we agreed that we would make a very special occasion of the Feast of Lanterns. We would have a dinner for the family and a few friends and Chinese food should be served in the Chinese manner. A lantern should be lighted in each room and over the porch we would set up one which should be made with moving figures inside it. Adam designed the lantern which would be in the best Chinese tradition.

It was magnificent and made of silk, horn, and glass. Inside was a horizontal wheel which was turned by the draft of air created by the warmth of the lamp. There were figures of beautiful women who reminded me of Chan Cho Lan and there were brightly plumaged birds. Fine threads were attached to the figures and as the wheel turned, they moved. The effect was beautiful. This enormous lantern was fixed above the outer gate. When darkness fell it would be like a beautiful beacon.

The servants were delighted and Lottie told me that this would bring great good joss to the house. The goddess would undoubtedly be pleased.

For several days there had been preparations in the kitchen. The guests arrived in the later afternoon and we should dine before dusk so that we could see the procession as soon as it began.

This was a very special occasion indeed. We sat on our cushions and were served first with basins of soup. It was the first time I had tasted birds’ nest soup and it was Lottie who told me afterwards what it contained. “It is good for you,” she told me. It was made from the nests of small swallows who were said to collect a glutinous substance from the sea with which to make their nests. These were the size of tea saucers and they were collected before the eggs were laid. She showed me some which were brought to the kitchen; they were of a lightish red and transparent. To make the soup they were dissolved in water. I found the concoction rather insipid. But it was served as a great delicacy so we had to make a show of enjoying it.

Following the soup were salted meats and rice served in small porcelain dishes; there followed sharks’ fins and deers’ sinews, all of which we ate with chopsticks—at which I had by this time become adept—though we used little china spoons when necessary. We drank heated sweet wine with it and cups of tea.

Although most of us were well acquainted with Chinese food this was the first time I had had it served and eaten in the completely Chinese manner. It was very impressive, particularly when as we were finishing the servants began lighting the lanterns.

After the meal I went up to Jason’s room where he had been eating under the supervision of Lottie. She had been telling him about the feast downstairs and how the goddess would be pleased with us because although each of us was a fân-kuei we had acted as good Chinese.

Jason was excited at the prospect of seeing the procession and by now the big lantern which was to hang over our porch had been lighted and shone like a beacon.

We all went down to the waterfront which was the best place to see the revelry. And what a sight it was. From every sampan there rose a lantern. There were greens, blues, mauves—every conceivable color was represented with red predominating. There were simple lanterns and ornate lanterns. There were silk lanterns and paper lanterns. Many of them sported revolving scenery which was contrived in the same manner as the one which adorned our porch. There were revolving ships, idols, butterflies, and birds. It was as though everyone had vied to make a more glorious lantern than his neighbor. I shall always associate these occasions with the sound of the gong. One heard it constantly and it never failed to arouse a certain apprehension in me. It always sounded like a warning.

Adam held Jason in his arms so that he could see everything. Jason was shouting to us all to look at this and that. Lottie stood beside me, quietly proud of the display. On the sea were ships dressed up as dragons. Lights shone through the paper and some of them breathed fire. It was a colorful display and even more interesting than the lanterns were the crowds who had assembled to take part in or watch the revelry. Men in the magnificent robes of mandarins mingled with the coolies. Hakka women in their wide black-fringed hats stood side by side with other workers from the paddy fields, and servants from rich families, as the procession of lanterns wound its way along the waterfront. Beneath die lanterns a row of men bore a massive dragon; the men writhed and gyrated as they went to represent the movements of the great beast. Within the framework were lights so that it presented quite a terrifying appearance, jaws open with fire coming through and lights showing in its great eyes.

Jason was beside himself with a delighted fear.

Then the fireworks started.

Jason and Lottie seemed of an age in their excitement, and watching them I was more reconciled to my fate than I had ever been. It was to be but a brief satisfaction.

In due course we were rickshawed back to the house. We went into the room we had made our drawing room and Lottie took Jason off to bed. Sylvester was talking in the animated way he had when he was discussing Chinese customs.

He was saying: “There must always be a dragon. The dragon dominates the lives of the Chinese. He is the bogyman of China. They fear him, they seek to placate him, and sometimes to destroy him. He is supposed to be all powerful. I was here once at the time of an eclipse. It was then believed that the dragon, suffering from an insatiable hunger, was trying to swallow the sun. The beating of the gongs was terrific. They were supposed to be frightening the dragon. Yet I have seen a feast to honor him many a time.”

Toby, who had not come back to the house with us, arrived at that moment. He was clearly excited.

He said: “A ship is in the harbor. It comes from home.”

I was awakened in the night by Jason who had had a dream of a firebreathing dragon. He was sure he was outside the window trying to get in. I took him into my bed as I had on the first night and explained that the dragons were made of paper and it was men inside them who made them move.

“It’s true here in your bed,” he whispered. “But it changes in mine.”

So I kept him with me and as he slept I was overwhelmed by my love for him and I thought that as long as I had him to plan for, to live for, I could be content. I thought again of Sylvester and how good he had been to me and I vowed to myself that I would look after him and always share his interests. I would be at the Go-Down tomorrow and with Toby I would learn what goods had arrived for us and I would take an account of these to Sylvester for I would insist on his resting after the previous night’s feast and procession.

I was up early and when I was dressed Lottie came to tell me that, early as it was, there was a visitor.

Lottie looked a little secretive and did not meet my gaze, but perhaps I thought this afterwards. However I went down through the quiet house to the drawing room where Lottie told me the visitor waited.

I opened the door. Then I thought I was going to faint, for rising from a chair and coming towards me was Joliffe.

He stood before me gazing at me, and my feelings were such as I could not describe so overwhelming were they. Such joy it was to see him again, yet that joy was tinged with fear as to what his coming would mean.

He said “Jane!” That was all, but it said so much. There was longing and the pain of separation, the joy of reunion, and there was hope.

I clung to my composure and kept my distance. I thought: If he doesn’t touch me I can be calm. I can stand outside this scene. I can make it seem as though some other person is taking the part of Jane and I am but a looker-on. But if he were to put his hands on my shoulders; if he were to draw me to him…

That must not happen.

I said: “What are you doing here, Joliffe?”

He must have realized that we had to talk of rational things, for he answered: “I came in on the ship.”

“You will stay…?”

“For a while,” he said.

“But…”

I was becoming involved. I thought: We can’t both stay here. There’s not room for us. We shall see each other often and how can we do that?

He said: “How are you, Jane?”

“I am well.”

He laughed. “And… happy?”

“We have an interesting life here.”

“Oh Jane!” he said reproachfully, “why did you do it?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t pretend. You understand perfectly. Why did you marry my uncle?”

“I have told you before.”

“You should have waited.”

I turned away. It was fatal, for he had laid his hand on my arm and in a second I was held against him and all the magic was there again; and I knew that I had been living in a false contentment. I knew I would never be happy without Joliffe.

“No, no,” I said breaking away. “This must not be.”

“I’m free now, Jane,” he said.

“And Bella?”

“Bella is dead.”

“That was convenient… for you, wasn’t it?”

“Poor Bella! She never recovered from the accident.”

“She seemed very strong and healthy when we met.”

“She was badly injured in the accident. How badly was not realized. It was only much later that this became apparent. The accident had started up something… an internal growth. She had only a few years to live.”

“And now, you’re free as you say.”

“The pity is… you’re not.”

I walked to the window.

I said: “Listen, Joliffe, there must be no more of this.”

He was beside me. “What do you mean? No more of what? How can there be no more of something that exists?”

“I am settled here. I want no complications. What was between us is over.”

“What a monstrous thing to say. You know it will never be over… as long as either of us lives.”

“You shouldn’t have come here. Why did you?”

“I have my work. It brings me here. But most of all I came to tell you I was free.”

“Of what interest should that be to me?”

“I wanted you to realize how wrong you were. You should never have married my uncle. If you had not the way would be clear for us now.”

“And my son?”

“Our son! I would have cared for him… and for you.”

“I believe I did the right thing. And having done it… I hope I shall continue to do what is right. Go away, Joliffe. I don’t want us to meet.”

“I must see you. I’ve sworn I won’t go on as before. I want to see my son.”

“No, Joliffe.”

“He is my son, you know.”

“He is happy here. He looks on Sylvester as his father. I don’t want him disturbed. Joliffe, how can you come here… to this house… of all places.”

“It used to be one of my homes. Where else should I go?”

“You can’t stay here.”

“You’re afraid. You shouldn’t be afraid of life, Jane.”

“We should all be afraid of doing what is not right.”

“My poor Jane!”

“Poor Jane! Poor Bella! Perhaps we are both to be pitied for becoming involved with you.”

“You will never be sorry for that.”

“I want you to go away, Joliffe.”

He looked intently at me and shook his head, and at that moment the door opened and Jason ran in.

He stood for a moment looking from me to Joliffe.

Joliffe grinned at him and a slow smile broke over Jason’s face.

“This is Uncle Adam’s cousin,” I said. I saw Joliffe grimace slightly in my direction.

“Have you got a kite?” asked Jason.

“No, but I had one when I was a boy.”

“What sort?”

“Made with bamboo, horn and varnish. It had a dragon on it.”

“Breathing fire?”

“Breathing fire,” said Joliffe. “Nobody ever flew a kite higher than I did.”

“I did,” said Jason.

Joliffe put his head on one side and shook it slowly.

“We’ll have a race,” said Jason excitedly.

“Yes, one day we’ll have a race.”

Lottie had come in. “I’m here, Lottie,” said Jason. “Where’s my kite?”

Joliffe and Lottie looked at each other. She knelt and put her forehead on the floor. Jason solemnly imitated her.

Joliffe took her hand and helped her to her feet.

She answered: “Great master is gracious.”

To see her standing there, her hand in his, for he retained it for a second or so, looking so young and beautiful sent a pang of jealousy through me.

I said: “Jason, will you go with Lottie. It’s time you had your breakfast.”

“Is Uncle Adam’s cousin going to have breakfast?”

“I expect he will somewhere.”

Jason stood looking at Joliffe and I could see the admiration in his eyes. I wondered what his reaction would have been if I had said: This is your father.

“You come and have breakfast with me,” said Jason.

“That is not possible,” I said sharply. “Go now.”

“We shall see each other later,” added Joliffe.

“Bring your kite,” said Jason.

“I will,” said Joliffe.

They went out.

“My God, Jane,” he said, “that’s a fine boy.”

“Please, Joliffe, this is a difficult state of affairs. Don’t complicate it.”

“You helped to complicate it.”

“In innocence,” I said. “But don’t let’s go into that now. I shall ask Sylvester what’s to be done. I shall tell him that you have been here.”

“Good and obedient wife,” he said bitterly. And I knew that the sight of me and of Jason and the thought that we were lost to him filled him with grief and anger.

I also knew enough of him to understand that he was not like myself. He would not accept a situation and try to make the best of it.

Joliffe wouldn’t compromise.

I left him and went to Sylvester’s room. He had not risen but Ling Fu had brought him breakfast and he was sitting up in bed having it.

“You’re up early, Jane,” he said. “The ship…” He paused. “Is something wrong?”

I said: “Joliffe came in on the ship. He is here.”

“In this house?”

I nodded.

“He must go away,” said Sylvester.

“He says his work has brought him here.”

“I can’t send him back to England but at least he shall not stay in this house.”