The House of a Thousand Lanterns

I

Now everything was changed. It must be so because Joliffe was in Hong Kong. I could no longer accept my fate; I must rebel against it. There was only one way to peace of mind and that was in forgetting Joliffe, which was something I could never do.

He had had an interview with Sylvester. I don’t know what was actually said but the gist of it was that although Adam was staying in the house there was no place there for Joliffe. In view of his one-time relationship with me that was quite impossible.

Joliffe had no alternative but to accept this while at the same time he made it clear that he wished to see his son. I knew him well enough to understand that he would use Jason as an excuse.

Sylvester was very shaken. He understood me so well that he must have been fully aware of the effect Joliffe’s return had had on me in spite of my efforts to hide it. He was apprehensive. Sometimes I was amazed at the depth of the feelings I had aroused in this quiet, restrained man. I knew that it was not only his relationship with me which he felt might be in jeopardy but he feared for Jason. There was something aloof in his nature which made an intimate relationship difficult for him to achieve. It had occurred to me that our marriage may have seemed to him the perfect one… a marriage without a physical relationship which had yet miraculously brought him a son who had the blood of his family in him.

He seemed to shrink from physical contact. Or did I think that because I was so much aware of Joliffe’s overwhelming masculinity? He looked pale and shaken and I knew he was suffering from one of his headaches, but he had been firm enough when he had forbidden Joliffe the house.

When I went down to the Go-Down Toby looked very serious.

He was angry with Joliffe.

“He should never have come here,” he said. “He knew the complications his return would give rise to.”

“He has his business,” I said, hearing myself actually defending Joliffe.

“He has managed all this time with his agents. It is only now that you are here…” He looked at me earnestly, trying to assess what effect Joliffe’s return had had on me.

I hoped I preserved my calmness.

“Whatever existed between us is over now,” I said. “It has been for a long time.”

Toby frowned. “It’s difficult in a place like this not to see people.”

“Perhaps he won’t stay,” I said.

Toby sighed. I knew that was what he hoped for.

Adam mentioned his cousin to me. “I hear his wife is now dead,” he said, studying me closely.

“I believe that is so.”

“He shouldn’t have come here. He could have left any business to his agent.”

“Why should everyone be so concerned?”

Adam frowned. “It’s nonsense to pretend. We know that you went through a form of marriage with him. We know that Jason is his son. This creates a difficult situation. Joliffe has always been sublimely indifferent to the embarrassment—or feelings—of others. He’s like his father. You have settled down with Sylvester now. He should have had more sense than to come back.”

“There is no need for anyone to make this fuss. Until this week it was years since I’d seen him.”

Adam nodded. “He’s got the famous Eddy charm which was said to come down through our grandmother. She ran away with a lover. It’s a certain feckless streak in the character and it comes out in some of us.”

“It didn’t come out in you, Adam.”

“You seem to pity me for that.”

I shook my head. “Oh no, I’m congratulating you.”

“Yet everyone finds these irresponsible people so attractive. You must have done. Or why did you marry Joliffe—or think you married him?”

I wanted to say: Because I loved him. Because I thought then—and it seemed I was right—that he was the only one in the world for me. How could one say such things to prosaic Adam? I said: “For the same reason that most people marry.”

“People marry for varying reasons. Some because it seems expedient to do so.”

“You are cynical.”

“But realistic. Didn’t you marry my uncle Sylvester for that reason?”

I said angrily: “You always resented my marrying him, didn’t you?”

He shrugged his shoulders and turned away. I was angry with him, but whenever Joliffe was mentioned I could never trust myself far and I wanted now to escape from him.

He looked over his shoulder and said: “Don’t forget you married my uncle… and whatever happens you are still married to him.”

“Am I likely to forget it?”

“Some people forget their marriage vows,” he said, and was gone.

He was a most uncomfortable person. All my old resentment of him returned.

There was a note from Joliffe. He wanted me to see him. I ignored the note. There came another. Jason was his son, he wrote. If I would not see him, he was determined that he would see his son. That was his right.

I was determined to enter into no negotiation with him that Sylvester did not know about, so I went to him and told him what Joliffe was asking.

He looked pale and wan; his stick was propped up by his chair and I felt a deep pity for him.

“He has some right to see the boy,” he conceded.

“He has not bothered with him for more than five years,” I said.

“Yet he is his father.”

“I wish he would go away,” I said, but even as I spoke I felt false for I meant no such thing. I couldn’t bear him to go away, and I knew by the manner in which Sylvester looked at me that he was aware of my feelings.

He was just, and I think, too, that he knew that I must not turn my back on life. He was aware of the emptiness of my existence; he knew of my secret longings. There was something of the fatalist about Sylvester. It was almost as though he were saying: Here is Joliffe; he can offer you ardor, youthful passion and enchantment which you and he may call love; he can offer all that with insecurity. On the other hand I can give you affection, calm, quiet, faithful companionship, a serene home for your child, a future which is assured. Fate is offering you a choice. It is for you to decide.

I knew that he feared that one day I would go away with Joliffe because it was quite clear that that was what Joliffe intended, and that I would take Jason with me and he, Sylvester, would be alone again. His fatalist attitude may have come to him through his study of Chinese philosophy, but it was there. He feared and yet he made no attempts to put temptation from me.

I told myself I was not going to be tempted. I knew where my duty lay to my husband and my precious child. That was what I told myself, and it was the reason I must not see Joliffe. It had been enough to see him once to know that I could easily forget everything but my need of him. And that was something I was determined should not happen.

I would contrive never to see him alone. But he should see Jason.

Sylvester said: “In due course the child will know who his father is. He might hold it against us if we did not allow them to meet. Joliffe should not tell him of their relationship but he should see him.”

It was arranged that Lottie should take Jason to the hotel where Joliffe stayed. She was not to let Jason out of her care and the meeting should be only of an hour’s duration.

In return for this concession, which was arranged by Adam, Joliffe should give his word that the child would be returned to The House of a Thousand Lanterns at the end of the hour.

I wondered at the wisdom of this after that first meeting. Jason returned starry-eyed. Adam’s cousin was the most wonderful man. He had a kite and they flew them together because he had taken his to show him. In the gardens of the hotel they had watched them soar up into the sky.

“His went highest,” said Jason ruefully. “He’s going to give me a new one.”

“But you’ve got the one Lottie gave you,” I reminded him.

He was reflective. “But the one he’ll give me will be a bigger and better one. He said so.”

“Lottie might be hurt.”

“Oh I’ll fly the one she gave me sometimes. Mama, when am I going to see Adam’s cousin again?”

The charm had worked on Jason too.

What an uneasy state of affairs it was! Once I saw him when I was riding in a rickshaw and my heart turned over. On another occasion when I came out of the Go-Down he was waiting for me as once he had waited in Cheapside.

His eyes were pleading; he looked a little haggard and I thought: He’s as unhappy as I am.

He stood before me almost abjectly. “Jane, this is absurd. We must talk.”

“There’s nothing to say,” I replied.

“We’ve got to work out something.”

“It’s all been worked out. Go home, Joliffe. Go back to England. It’s better that way.”

“You don’t know what it’s been like.”

“I don’t know!” I was angry. “I knew when I discovered that I was not in truth your wife.”

“I’m free now, Jane.”

“You forget I’m not.”

I turned to the rickshaw which was waiting for me.

“There’s the boy,” he said. “Think what it would mean to him.”

“It’s just for this reason that you should go away,” I retorted.

I stepped into the rickshaw. The man picked up the shafts, his face impassive.

Lottie knew how uneasy I was.

She said the goddess had lost face because a house had been built on her temple, and there was no good joss for those who lived in it.

“It’s nothing to do with the goddess, Lottie.”

“Serenity has gone,” she said.

How right she was! I suppose I had been serene in a way before—quietly pursuing my life, trying to pretend that I was content.

I often found Lottie’s eyes on me. They were mournful, watching. She knew that the coming of Joliffe had changed me.

It was she who took Jason on his visits to Joliffe. Adam accompanied them; it was all very ceremonious. Adam told me that he waited in the hotel while Jason went to the gardens with Joliffe and he sent Lottie out to sit in the gardens too.

There had been three meetings between Jason and Joliffe and already Jason adored him. He would ask every day: “How many days to Adam’s cousin, Mama?” And he would mark them off on a calendar.

I said to Sylvester: “It’s a mistake to let them meet. He is charming the boy. I don’t like it.”

I knew Sylvester was very much afraid but that fatalistic attitude seemed to take possession of him; it was as though he wanted not only me to choose between him and Joliffe, but for Jason to do so also.

One day I received a fright because Jason was not in his room. He had said he was going there to read his book as he often did in the afternoon and when I went for him it was to find him gone.

I called for Lottie but I couldn’t find her either. As they were both missing I was not as disturbed as I might have been.

I went down into the courtyard and as I did so I looked up in the sky and saw the two kites flying—the well-known one which was Jason’s and the big flamboyant one which I guessed Joliffe had acquired.

They are together, I thought.

I went out through the gates and made my way to the pagoda.

As I came close I could hear voices.

“Look at mine. Look at mine!” cried Jason.

“It’ll fly higher yet,” answered Joliffe.

They had their backs to me so they did not see me, but I had seen not only them but Lottie seated on the grass, her back to me as she regarded them.

I sent for Lottie.

She looked fearful and shame-faced. She had brought Jason home an hour ago.

I did not ask him where he had been. I waited for him to tell me. I was shocked that he did not mention he had been with Joliffe.

That was why I wanted to talk to Lottie.

I shut the door and bade her be seated. I saw that her hands were trembling.

“You look guilty, Lottie,” I said.

She hung her head and I went on: “So you took Jason out to meet someone?”

She nodded wretchedly.

“You know that those meetings should take place at the hotel and not in the pagoda. Don’t you, Lottie?”

She nodded again.

“And yet you deceived me. You teach my son to deceive me.”

“You must whip this miserable wicked one,” she said, kneeling and laying her forehead on the floor.

“Lottie, get up and don’t be silly. Why did you do this?”

“Jason loves so much to meet Mr. Joliffe.”

“Jason meets him once a week. That has been arranged. But you have taken it upon yourself to change this.”

She lifted her face to me; her eyes were wide, awestruck. She looked over her shoulder as though she expected to see someone there.

“Mr. Joliffe is Jason’s father,” she said.

“Who told you this?” I demanded.

She lifted her shoulders helplessly. “It is so. I know this.”

Of course she had heard it. Adam had talked of it. So had Sylvester and I. When were families able to keep secrets from their servants. And Lottie understood English.

“It bring great bad luck to disobey the father,” she said.

I took her by the shoulders.

“Yes Lottie,” I said, “Mr. Joliffe is Jason’s father but you have not told him this?”

“No, I have not told. I would not tell.”

I believed her. For one thing it was something Jason would never have been able to keep to himself.

“You must never tell,” I said. “If you do…” I hesitated. Then I went on: “If you do, you shall go away. You will go back to where you came from.”

A look of intense horror came over her face. She began to tremble.

“I will not tell. It is not good to tell. He but child. But it is bad luck to disobey father.”

“And Mr. Joliffe asked you to take him out to the pagoda, did he?”

She hung her head.

“Never do it again,” I warned. “If you deceive me again in this way I shall send you from here.”

She nodded wretchedly. She wanted to kneel again. The kowtow meant that she was abject in her misery and her desire to expiate her sins was all that mattered.

I said: “It’s all right, Lottie. You are forgiven. But don’t dare do it again.”

She nodded, and I was satisfied that I had made my point.

But I was very anxious because I knew that Joliffe was capable of doing anything to get his way. I remembered vividly the occasion when I had found him in Sylvester’s showroom in the middle of the night; and even then when I should have been warned of someone who employed such devious methods, I had refused to heed the warning, now while I wondered what he would do next I was afraid every day I would hear that he had decided to go home.

There was undoubtedly change in the house. It had started soon after Joliffe’s return. I had become aware of the shadows when darkness fell; and the lanterns seemed to cast an eerie light over everything.

When the house was quiet I would fancy it was listening, brooding, waiting, which was absurd. I visualized what must have stood on this very spot in those days before the house had been erected. There would have been priests passing to and fro through the courtyards of the temple; I could imagine their chanting and the striking of gongs and their performing the kowtow before the image of the goddess. So vividly did I picture them in their yellow robes with their shaved heads that I almost expected to see the ghosts of some of them flitting up and down our stairs.

It was as though a new mood had crept into the house. Sylvester sensed it too. I knew it although we never mentioned it.

It might have begun in our minds. Fear was there. Sylvester clearly feared what might happen… and so did I.

He seemed to shrink; he looked older. There were days when he did not leave his bedroom.

Adam noticed this. He asked me if I did not think we should call in Dr. Phillips, the European doctor, to look at him.

To my surprise I was relieved that Adam was in the house. Now that Joliffe had come to Hong Kong he seemed to provide a certain safeguard. I felt that if I had given in to Joliffe, as Joliffe rather obviously was hoping I would, Adam would have displayed a certain smug satisfaction. There was a very practical side to his nature too. If I went away with Jason, would not Sylvester have to take him into partnership? I imagined I could see the thoughts behind Adam’s inscrutable expression.

He had looked at several houses but had found nothing really suitable and Sylvester had shown quite clearly that he was pleased for him to stay. I was aware that since Joliffe’s return Sylvester’s attitude towards Adam had changed. Sylvester had a great affection for his nephew and an admiration for his knowledge and dedication. I imagined at one time he had felt the same towards Joliffe. Sylvester and Adam had so much in common. I was constantly coming upon them in deep and excited discussion over some piece one of them had found.

I agreed that the doctor should see Sylvester and because Sylvester was against this, Adam decided to ask Dr. Phillips to dine with us and then he proposed to bring up the subject of Sylvester’s health in a casual manner.

Sylvester was a little annoyed, but at length decided to submit to an examination.

The doctor’s verdict was that he could find nothing wrong. He talked to Adam and me for some time and pointed out that a life of inactivity was bound to have its effects. There was a weakness, a tiredness, but that might be the inevitable result of his accident.

“Just keep him cheerful and don’t let him risk getting chilled.”

Adam said he was relieved but he still thought he had done the right thing in getting the doctor’s opinion.

Later Sylvester asked me for the truth of what the doctor had said.

I told him.

“I’d like to know, Jane,” he said. “There’s a theory that invalids shouldn’t be told how bad they are. It’s good in some cases, I suppose. But I’d like to know my fate… my joss as they say. If I hadn’t long to live I’d like to know it.”

“Whatever gave you such an idea? He merely said that you were probably feeling the effects of your sedentary life, and you should take care to keep interested in what’s going on and not get chilled.”

“I’m glad that Adam is here. Of course I believe that he is finding business a little difficult and would like to come back. I don’t want that, Jane. Oh, I have the greatest respect for his talent. He’s quite an authority in several ways. But I have my reasons for not wanting him back with me. He has been talking about the house. He believes the legend that somewhere here there is a secret to be discovered.”

“Have you searched for this mystery, Sylvester?”

“I have been through the house, tested each room as my grandfather, father, and others have before me.”

“There must be a hidden door somewhere.”

“If so it has never been found.”

“Tell me about your brother Magnus.”

“Joliffe is so like his father that sometimes I could almost believe Magnus is back with us. Magnus was our father’s well-beloved son. We used to say he was like Joseph and that if our father had had a coat of many colors, Magnus would have been the one to inherit it.”

“Yet he left this house to you.”

“Magnus died before he did. Even so, he would have left the house to me. There are some who say that this house might be a burden.” He looked about him. “I am sure many of the servants believe it to be haunted in some way. I have always thought that my father left it to me because I was more serious than Redmond who was alive at that time and he thought I would be the one to overcome the difficulties of living here.”

“You surprise me.”

“Oh there is an aura here. You sense it, Jane. My grandfather’s wife ran away soon after he came here. She was always frivolous, it was true, but it was actually when this house came into my grandfather’s possession that she left him. He never got over it. My father was not a happy man. He lost his beloved son. You see misfortune befell all those who owned the house. My father believed I would ride any storm more successfully than Redmond.”

“But he divided the business between you.”

“Yes, equally. And there was a share for Joliffe. My father apologized to me a few months before he died. ‘In a few years time,’ he said, ‘this equality will have vanished. You, my eldest son, will be in command and the others will fall far behind you.’ It was true I had the biggest instinct for business.”

“And then you divided.”

“Our personalities clashed. They were held in check while our father lived, but afterwards we wanted our own way. My father was right. I was soon more successful than Redmond and Joliffe too. They had more… outside interests. Perhaps I was more dedicated. It was not long after we split up that Redmond had a sudden heart attack and died. Adam took over. He did not want to join up with me then; he was sure he could succeed on his own and he has done well, to a certain extent. So there we are—three rival firms one might say—the uncle and his two nephews.” He hesitated. “I’ve told you before that when I was young I admired an actress. We became great friends. My brother Magnus saw her. He married her. Joliffe was their son.”

I wondered then whether Sylvester felt a certain animosity towards Joliffe because he was the son of a woman he had loved. But that was not really Sylvester’s nature. Rather would he have loved Joliffe the more because of this. It was due to Joliffe himself that he had lost Sylvester’s regard.

“It wasn’t really a happy marriage although she was devoted to Magnus. He had that fascination for women. He was exuberant, adventurous, good-looking, gallant, and charming… all that women look for. He liked all women too much though to care deeply for one. I had none of these gifts. I was the serious one dedicated to my business.”

“Well, it provided some consolation.”

“That’s what we learn, Jane. There are always compensations in life.”

“Did she regret her choice?”

“Oh no, no. If she could have had her time over again it would always have been Magnus. She was often hurt but she never wavered in her adherence to him. They died together. She wouldn’t have wanted to go on without him.”

“And Joliffe was their only son?”

He nodded. “I made plans to adopt him. I decided he would be like my own son. I tried to mold him to my ways. That was like trying to hold back the tide. He was Magnus’s son.”

He was silent for a while. Then he went on: “Well, then you appeared, Jane. Right from the beginning, you know I was aware that you would play an important part in my life. When Joliffe came and I thought you were truly married to him, it seemed like some sort of terrible pattern repeating itself.”

“Yes,” I said, “I see that. And now he is back.”

“Yes,” he said, “and I wonder.”

“That pattern is changed,” I assured him. “I think I am not unlike you. I am serious. I acted rashly once. I don’t think I would do so again.”

“No, you will not. And this is part of my pattern. It is going to be as I planned.”

He looked tired and I could see that he did not want to talk any more.

I suggested he sleep a little. But he said he would like to play mahjongg.

When I came back with the board his eyes were closed and I saw that he was asleep.

He looked so tired and there was a new parchment-like tinge to his face. I felt a great pity and tenderness for him.

I was spending more time with Sylvester. I could see that he was growing weaker every day. I could not say exactly what was wrong with him; nor could he. He was just tired and listless. Sometimes he would spend a whole day in bed; at others he would get up in the afternoon and sit in his chair. There was a kind of meek resignation about him. I had the impression that he had made up his mind that his life was drawing to an end and had resigned himself to this.

It was an attitude which I found exasperating. I wanted him to make an effort. He smiled at me gently when I suggested that he try to dress for dinner.

“There comes a time in life,” he said, “when one must let it flow over one. The tide is coming in, the waves gently touch one and one knows that it is only a matter of time before one will be submerged.”

I said with vehemence that I did not accept such a philosophy.

“No, Jane,” he said, “you are one of the fighters of the world.”

I would bring Jason to him and my son would read aloud to show how he was progressing. He would chatter freely and tell Sylvester stories which he made up himself. There was almost always a dragon in them. Sylvester taught him to play his beloved mah-jongg and I was clearly happy in a quiet satisfied way.

Toby came often to see him and they would be closeted together; the English lawyer came too and I knew that Sylvester was setting his house in order.

II

Up to this time I had made an effort to ignore the utter strangeness of The House of a Thousand Lanterns. Now it could no longer be ignored. It was like a living thing, a presence, a personality; it thrust itself upon me. I refused to believe that any misfortune which had befallen previous owners had been due to an evil influence which emanated from the house, and yet it was there… this vague indefinable sensation.

Sylvester talked to me about the house. “I shall never know the secret now, Jane,” he said sadly.

“Is there a secret? You and others have searched the house. If there was anything to be discovered it would have come to light by now, I feel sure.”

“Do you sense something here?”

I hesitated. “I think that it is possible to build up this… what is it you called it? An aura? It is something in the mind. It is nothing tangible.”

“You are a sensible woman, Jane. And you are right. Fear is often in the minds of those who suffer it. You could be the one to discover the secret of the house which could be that there is no secret. That the mystery exists only in the minds of those who created it. Read to me now.”

I read from the works of Dickens which he always enjoyed. I think that took him far away from the moment to another world, for nothing could have been farther from his room with its swinging lanterns than the English scene.

He kept a book of quotations from the great Chinese writers by his bedside and he used to study them before he slept.

I remember some of them. Two seemed particularly to apply to me. One was “The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trials.” And I thought then what a different person I had become since those days with Joliffe. I was more understanding now of others, more mellow. I wondered whether the girl I had been in those days—in love with my own life and without much thought to spare for others—would have been able to offer the comfort to Sylvester which I did at this time. Another of these quotations was “The error of a moment becomes the sorrow of a lifetime.”

I used to think of this quite a lot.

That was a strange time for in Sylvester’s room was this sense of acceptance, of a brooding watchfulness. The house seemed quiet, waiting. Yet there was a subtle expectancy. Although I might assure myself that it did not exist outside my imagination I sensed it. It was in the quiet rooms each with its center lantern and other small ones placed about; it was in the soft swish of a curtain and the breeze which gently ruffled the miniature trees and the wind bells. It was in the pagoda, that place which had been a tryst for Joliffe and Jason. I went there often because I wondered whether Lottie had disobeyed me and had brought Jason to see Joliffe there. I half hoped I would find Joliffe and I half feared to.

I felt that I was living in a strange half world—between two lives, for the house would have told me, if Sylvester had not, that he was going to die.

I wondered what would happen then, but I forced myself to shut my eyes to one dazzling prospect. Joliffe was free… as I would be. I felt guilty and ashamed that I could contemplate a possible outcome of this.

I was very conscious of the presence of Adam in the house. Often I resented his didactic manner; he had a disconcerting way of announcing something of which he was sure. I always wanted to contradict but I discovered that he was almost always right.

He had adopted a kind of pose of protection; as though he were there to defend me even against my will. I was irritated by this and wanted to tell him that I was not in the least feeble. Sylvester had schooled me and I had learned my lessons well. And the first of these was the capability of standing on my own feet.

But I said nothing and we drifted on.

Lottie said: “The Master is tranquil. He is waiting for Yen-wang.”

I knew that Yen-wang was to the Chinese what Pluto was to the Greeks. Yet there were times when I rebelled at this calm acceptance. I tried to shake Sylvester out of it.

“One of your theories used to be that anyone could do anything. If a man wants to get well and determines to, why should he not?”

“We have self-will up to a point,” he said. “But when the hour is approaching there is no turning back the clock.”

That night I awakened startled. I sat up in bed and it was as though horror crawled over my skin. There was a faint light in the room which came from a crescent moon and the lantern was like a black creature hanging from the ceiling.

Then I knew what had awakened me. It was a movement at my door. The creak of a handle being slowly turned. I leaped from my bed and as I did so the door slowly opened.

In the gloom I made out a figure standing there. For a few seconds I thought that one of the ghosts of The House of a Thousand Lanterns had materialized.

Then to my astonishment I saw that it was Sylvester.

I was dreaming. It couldn’t be Sylvester. He could only mount the stairs with the greatest difficulty.

I whispered: “Sylvester.” There was no response. He had held up both hands before him and was advancing into the room.

I stared. I must be dreaming. Then the realization came to me: Sylvester is walking in his sleep.

Stealthily I went towards him. I took his hand. A slow smile seemed to touch his lips yet I could see that he was asleep.

I marveled that he should have been able to get up the stairs. I felt he had been impelled to come to me and that although he was sleeping he seemed to be aware that he had found me.

I had heard that if people walked in their sleep it was unwise to awaken them and that they should be led quietly back to their beds. I therefore gently turned Sylvester and drew him from my room and to the stairs. I went ahead of him and slowly led him down.

I took him back to his bed and covered him up. But I was loath to leave him lest he get up again.

I sat there for some time watching him. He looked like a man who is already dead. The flesh seemed to have fallen away and exposed the bone structure of his face. I thought of all the comfort he had brought into my life and what his loss would mean to me, for I knew, as certainly as he did, that his end was near.

I was growing cold and there was nothing I could do for him by sitting there so I rose but as I did so he opened his eyes.

“Jane,” he said.

“It’s all right, Sylvester.”

“What time is it? Why are you here?”

“It’s all right.” I knew I had to tell him the truth, so I said: “You were walking in your sleep. I brought you back.”

He half rose and I said: “Lie back. Well talk about it in the morning. You will sleep peacefully now.”

“Jane,” he whispered.

I bent over him and kissed his forehead.

“Try to sleep,” I said.

In the morning we talked about it. He was puzzled. “I don’t think I ever did it before,” he said.

“Perhaps many people do,” I replied soothingly, “and it is never found out.”

“And I was in your room. How did I manage that?”

“It was amazing.”

“It must have been some compulsion… in my dream… something which gave me the strength to mount the stairs.”

“Is that possible?”

“I think it might be. I have been anxious about you, Jane. Perhaps that was how it manifested itself in the dream. I must have been dreaming I had to get you… to tell you something perhaps. It may have been that I dreamed you were in danger. I must have been forcibly impelled to see you if I could mount the stairs. Jane, I am anxious about you. When I am no longer here…”

“Please, it distresses me.”

“My dear Jane, how good you are to me and always have been. You know I owe most of the happiness I have ever known to you.”

“That gives me a lot of comfort but I want you to stop talking as though you are going to die. Perhaps this dream is a sign of what you can do if you want to. Let’s concentrate on your getting well.”

“No, no, Jane. We must face the truth. Death is in the house.”

I shivered. “Oh no. That’s wrong. We must not even think such a thing.”

“But it’s true. I sense it. And so do you. We are sensitive people, Jane. And here there is an affinity with the occult, don’t you feel it?”

“I always thought you were a shrewd and practical businessman.”

“I am so because I recognize that there is much in life that is a mystery to me and to us all. I have seen death, Jane. Yes, really seen death in a material form.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was late afternoon. The door of my room opened and there was a shape there. A dragon shape with the mask of death. I’ve seen it in processions and there it was… looking straight at me. It was there and it was gone.”

“It was a bad dream, for how could there be such a thing?”

“No, I was awake. And although it might seem impossible at home in Roland’s Croft, here it could happen.”

“You can’t believe such things.”

“I knew it for Death, Jane. This is no ordinary house. You sense that even as I do. Things could happen here which never would elsewhere. Don’t you sense the secrets, the mystery, the presence of the past?”

“I am going to ask the doctor to give you something to make you sleep soundly. I intend to watch over you, Sylvester.”

He smiled and taking my hand kissed it.

I felt very tender towards him.

The month of April had come and I thought with nostalgia of spring in England. The daffodils would be blooming in the London parks and I imagined the children with their boats on the Round Pond. Then I was transported straight back to that brief ecstatic period with Joliffe and quite clearly I saw Bella’s face smiling, with the sinister look in her eyes—the messenger of Fate who had come to destroy my happiness at one stroke.

Excitement invaded the house; the servants whispered together. A great occasion was approaching.

Sylvester said to me: “You know what is coming, Jane. It is the Feast of the Dead.”

I felt sick with horror. I remembered this custom from my reading and had forgotten that this was the time of the year it took place.

“It occurs twice yearly,” said Sylvester, “in the spring and in the autumn, but the great occasion is the springtime… now.”

“It’s a morbid custom,” I said.

“Oh no, they don’t make a morbid thing of it. They honor their ancestors. As you know the main force in Chinese life is ancestor worship. Any sin is forgivable in the pursuit of it. Confucius laid down the law that burial and mourning rites are the most important of all duties. “The Chinese adore with a kind of idolatry those who have died. This is the most important occasion of the year therefore—the honoring of the dead.”

The preparations had begun. Throughout the day we would see parties making for the hillside where the burial grounds were situated. Sylvester had told me that such spots were chosen throughout China because the land could not be used for cultivation and there were buried the grandest mandarins and the lowliest peasants.

For days men, women, and children went there to wash the tombs in readiness for the great day. When I rode out with Toby we saw the red and white streamers of paper flying out in the wind. These had been attached to the tombs that all might know they had been cleaned and made ready and that no dead person had been forgotten.

Lottie was among those who made the pilgrimage to the hill. She took food and candles and wrapped herself in coarse cloth.

I shall never forget that day. The house was deserted. All the servants had gone to the hills.

Tobias had taken Jason out on a small pony, for Jason was learning to ride, and Sylvester and I were alone in the house.

How quiet it was apart from the occasional sound of the gongs which came from the mourning processions as they wound their way up to the hillside.

I would be glad when this day was over.

Sylvester had been dressed and sat in his chair. He had become very thin and in the dim light he resembled a skeleton.

How I wished they would not keep sounding those gongs. They reminded me of the knell of the funeral bell. And I was reminded of my bright mother who had been dying and keeping that terrible knowledge from me.

“This is a horrid ceremony,” I said aloud.

“The sadness is brief,” Sylvester replied. “Very soon now the feasting will begin.”

“The feasting!”

“You don’t imagine they will waste all that food they’ve taken up there, do you? They are too practical for that. They have paid honor to the dead, now they will have a banquet of the food they have brought. Up at the hills they will light the lanterns and the wailing will cease. All will sit down for the food will be spread on the tombs and they will eat, as they would tell you, with their ancestors.”

“And tomorrow they will have forgotten?”

“Some forget their dead… others never do.”

We were silent for a while.

Then he said: “Very soon now, Jane, I shall not be here.”

I said vehemently: “Please stop. For so long now you have been almost courting death.”

“I knew He had entered the house, Jane, and I knew for whom He had come.”

“That’s nonsense. You have just seemed to lose the will to live.”

“I lost it because it was taken from me.”

“By whom?”

Then he said a strange thing. “I am not sure.”

“Sylvester, what do you mean?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “In any case, my time has come. It is part of the pattern. I knew what I must do. This house will be yours, Jane, when I am gone.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He laughed gently. “Don’t say that. The house is listening. No one likes to be unwanted. It makes for a loss of face. Yes, I know this is what I must do. This house and this business will be yours, Jane. I have trained you for this. You have the dedication… the serious mind. You are the one and you will train the boy and in time he will be there to take it from you. As for the house… with its secret, I believe that you have found the truth. Fear is in the mind, Jane. That is the answer to the riddle. You will live here in peace.”

I said: “You cannot have left all this to me… a woman.”

“I have always had a great respect for women, you know. And you are my wife. These years with you have been the happiest I have known since I lost Martha to Magnus. You changed everything when you came. And you learned… you learned so quickly. Your pleasure, your enthusiasm, your dedication were my delight.”

I said: “I should not be fit…”

“Nonsense. Who was it who reminded me that anyone could do anything if that one made up his or her mind.”

“You believe that?”

“I do.”

“Then believe that you will get well. You will get well. I will nurse you. I will cook everything for you myself…”

I stopped short, horrified by what I had said. It was as though the house had held its breath and was waiting, it was as though some unknown voice had whispered those words to me.

“It’s too late, Jane,” he said. “The time has come. You will know how to carry on. You will find Toby a good man. A reliable man. Trust Toby. I care for these treasures of mine. I have been a successful businessman with my skillful buying and shrewd selling, but I have loved my merchandise. As you know some things I have kept because I could not bear to part with them. I have covered everything, I believe, taken care of every contingency. It has occurred to me that you may not wish to be alone.”

“What do you mean, Sylvester?” I asked sharply.

“I know you well, Jane. I do not think you are a woman to want to live alone. You may decide to marry.”

“Oh, do not talk of such things. I have a husband who has been good to me.”

“Bless you, Jane. But let us look facts straight in the face. When I am no longer here, you will be lonely. You may need someone. Choose wisely, Jane. Once…” He stopped for I had winced. I knew he was thinking of Joliffe. He went on quickly: “I have, as I said, taken care of possibilities which may occur. Jason is very young. So are you, but if anything should befall you I have appointed Adam as Jason’s guardian until such time as he comes of age. But you, Jane, shall be in command for as long as is possible.”

He was hinting that if I married he would like Adam to be my husband—Adam or perhaps Toby. He trusted Toby absolutely but Adam was his own family. What he was most anxious to do was to keep Joliffe out.

“I want you to be well,” I cried. “I want you in command.”

“You are good to me, Jane,” he said. “You have always been good to me. It has been a good life… on the whole. There was sorrow but I learned to control it and the Chinese say that the more talents are exercised the more they will develop.”

He fell silent and I believed him to be asleep.

I sat beside him and thought back over the past, of the first time we had met and how I had feared that my mother and I would be turned away.

Then the enormity of what he had said swept over me and I would not think of it. I wanted to sit still and listen to the quiet of the house, the sudden distant sound of the gongs from the hillside.

That night Sylvester died in his sleep… the night of the day of the Feast of the Dead. He would have said it was an appropriate time to die.

I had become not only a widow but a rich woman.