JAVA HEAD

 By Joseph Hergesheimer

 1918

It is only the path of pure simplicity which guards and preserves thespirit. _CHWANG-TZE_

TO HAZLETON MIRKIL, JR. 

_from Dorothy and Joseph Hergesheimer_

I

Very late indeed in May, but early in the morning, Laurel Ammidon lay inbed considering two widely different aspects of chairs. The day beforeshe had been eleven, and the comparative maturity of that age had filledher with a moving disdain for certain fanciful thoughts which had givenher extreme youth a decidedly novel if not an actually adventuroussetting. Until yesterday, almost, she had regarded the various chairs ofthe house as beings endowed with life and character; she had heldconversations with some, and, with a careless exterior not warranted byan inner dread, avoided others in gloomy dusks. All this, now, shecontemptuously discarded. Chairs were--chairs, things to sit on, wood andstuffed cushions. 

Yet she was slightly melancholy at losing such a satisfactory lot ofreliable familiars: unlike older people, victims of the mostdisconcerting moods and mysterious changes, chairs could always becounted on to remain secure in their individual peculiarities. 

She could see by her fireplace the elaborately carved teakwood chairthat her grandfather had brought home from China, which had never variedfrom the state of a brown and rather benevolent dragon; its claws werealways claws, the grinning fretted mouth was perpetually fixed for acloud of smoke and a mild rumble of complaint. The severe waxed hickorybeyond with the broad arm for writing, a source of special pride, hadbeen an accommodating and precise old gentleman. The spindling goldchairs in the drawingroom were supercilious creatures at a king's ball;the graceful impressive formality of the Heppelwhites in the dining roombelonged to the loveliest of Boston ladies. Those with difficulthaircloth seats in the parlor were deacons; others in the breakfast roomtalkative and unpretentious; while the deep easy-chair before the libraryfire was a ship. There were mahogany stools, dwarfs of dark tricks; angryhigh-backed things in the hall below; and a terrifying shape of gleamingred that, without question, stirred hatefully and reached out curved anddripping hands. 

Anyhow, such they had all seemed. But lately she had felt a growingsecrecy about it, an increasing dread of being laughed at; and now, definitely eleven, she recognized the necessity of dropping such pretenseeven with herself. They were just chairs, she rerepeated; there was anend of that. 

The tall clock with the brass face outside her door, after apremonitory whirring, loudly and firmly struck seven, and Laurelwondered whether her sisters, in the room open from hers, were awake. She listened attentively but there was no sound of movement. She made anoise in her throat, that might at once have appeared accidental andbeen successful in its purpose of arousing them; but there was noresponse. She would have gone in and frankly waked Janet, who was notyet thirteen and reasonable; but experience had shown her that Camilla, reposing in the eminence and security of two years more, would permit nosuch light freedom with her slumbers. 

Sidsall, who had been given a big room for herself on the other side oftheir parents, would greet anyone cheerfully no matter how tightly shemight have been asleep. And Sidsall, the oldest of them all, was nearlysixteen and had stayed for part of their cousin Lucy Saltonstone's dance, where no less a person than Roger Brevard had asked her for a quadrille. 

Laurel's thoughts grew so active that she was unable to remain anylonger in bed; she freed herself from the enveloping linen and crossedthe room to a window through which the sun was pouring in a sharp brightangle. She had never known the world to smell so delightful--it was oneof the notable Mays in which the lilacs blossomed--and she stoodresponding with a sparkling life to the brilliant scented morning, thehoney-sweet perfume of the lilacs mingled with the faintly pungent odorof box wet with dew. 

She could see, looking back across a smooth green corner of the Wibirds'lawn next door, the enclosure of their own back yard, divided from thegarden by a white lattice fence and row of prim grayish poplars. At thefarther wall her grandfather, in a wide palm leaf hat, was stirring abouthis pear trees, tapping the ground and poking among the branches with hisivory headed cane. 

Laurel exuberantly performed her morning toilet, half careless, in hersoaring spirits, of the possible effect of numerous small ringings ofpitcher on basin, the clatter of drawers, upon Camilla. Yesterday she hadworn a dress of light wool delaine; but this morning, she decidedlargely, summer had practically come; and, on her own authority, she gotan affair of thin pineapple cloth out of the yellow camphorwood chest. She hurriedly finished weaving her heavy chestnut hair into two gleamingplaits, fastened a muslin guimpe at the back, and slipped into her dress. Here, however, she twisted her face into an expression of annoyance--heryears were affronted by the length of pantalets that hung below herskirt. Such a show of their narrow ruffles might do for a very smallgirl, but not for one of eleven; and she caught them up until only themerest fulled edge was visible. Then she made a buoyant descent to thelower hall, left the house by a side door to the bricked walk and anarched gate into the yard, and joined her grandfather. 

"Six bells in the morning watch, " he announced, consulting a thick goldtimepiece. "Head pump rigged and deck swabbed down?" Secure in herknowledge of the correct answers for these sudden interrogations Laurelimpatiently replied, "Yes, sir. "

"Scuttle butt filled?"

"Yes, sir. " She frowned and dug a heel in the soft ground. 

"Then splice the keel and heave the galley overboard. "

This last she recognized as a sally of humor, and contrived a fleetingperfunctory smile. Her grandfather turned once more to the pears. "Seethe buds on those Ashton Towns, " he commented. Laurel gazed critically:the varnished red buds were bursting with white blossom, the new leavesunrolling, tender green and sticky. "But the jargonelles--" he drew inhis lips doubtfully. She studied him with the profound interest his sheerbeing always invoked: she was absorbed in his surprising large roundnessof body, like an enormous pudding; in the deliberate care with which hemoved and planted his feet; but most of all by the fact that when he wasangry his face got quite purple, the color of her mother's paletot or aHamburg grape. 

They crossed the yard to where the vines of the latter, and of whiteChasselas--Laurel was familiar with these names from frequenthorticultural questionings--had been laid down in cold frames for latertransplanting; and from them the old man, her palm tightly held in his, trod ponderously to the currant bushes massed against the closed arcadeof the stables, the wood and coal and store houses, across the rear ofthe place. 

At last, with frequent disconcerting mutterings and explosive breaths, he finished his inspection and turned toward the house. Laurel, conscious of her own superiority of apparel, surveyed her companion in afrowning attitude exactly caught from her mother. He had on that mussysuit of yellow Chinese silk, and there was a spot on the waistcoatstraining at its pearl buttons. She wondered, maintaining the silentmimicry of elder remonstrance, why he would wear those untidy old thingswhen his chests were heaped with snowy white linen and Englishbroadcloths. It was very improper in an Ammidon, particularly in one whohad been captain of so many big ships, and in court dress with a cockedhat met the Emperor of Russia. 

They did not retrace Laurel's steps, but passed through a narrow wicketto the garden that lay directly behind the house. The enclosure was fullof robin-song and pouring sunlight; the lilac trees on either side of thesummer-house against the gallery of the stable were blurred with theirnew lavender flowering; the thorned glossy foliage of the hedge of Juneroses on Briggs Street glittered with diamonds of water; and the rockeryin the far corner showed a quiver of arbutus among its strange and lacyferns and mosses. 

Laurel sniffed the fragrant air, filled with a tumult of energy; everyinstinct longed to skip; she thought of jouncing as high as the poplars, right over the house and into Washington Square beyond. "Miss Fidget!"her grandfather exclaimed, exasperated, releasing her hand. "You're likeholding on to a stormy petrel. "

"I don't think that's very nice, " she replied. 

"God bless me, " he said, turning upon her his steady blue gaze; "whathave we got here, all dressed up to go ashore?" She sharply elevated ashoulder and retorted, "Well, I'm eleven. " His look, which had seemedquite fierce, grew kindly again. "Eleven, " he echoed with a satisfactoryamazement; "that will need some cumshaws and kisses. " The first, sheknew, was a word of pleasant import, brought from the East, and meantgifts; and, realizing that the second was unavoidably connected with it, she philosophically held up her face. Lifting her over his expanse ofstomach he kissed her loudly. She didn't object, really, or rather shewouldn't at all but for a strong odor of Manilla cheroots and the Medfordrum he took at stated periods. 

After this they moved on, through the bay window of the drawing-room thatopened on the garden, where a woman was brushing with a nodding featherduster, under the white arch that framed the main stairway, and turnedaside to where breakfast was being laid. Laurel saw that her father wasalready seated at the table, intent upon the tall, thickly printed sheetof the Salem _Register_. He paused to meet her dutiful lips; then with a"Good morning, father, " returned to his reading. Camilla entered atLaurel's heels; and the latter, in a delight slightly tempered by doubt, saw that she had been before her sister in a suitable dress for such awarm day. Camilla still wore her dark merino; and she gazed with mingledsurprise and annoyance at Laurel's airy garb. 

"Did mother say you might put that on?" she demanded. "Because if shedidn't I expect you will have to go right up from breakfast and change. It isn't a dress at all for so early in the morning. Why, I believe it'sone of your very best. " The look of critical disapproval suddenly becamedoubly accusing. 

"Laurel Ammidon, wherever are your pantalets?"

"I'm too big to have pantalets hanging down over my shoetops, " shereplied defiantly, "and so I just hitched them up. You can still see thefrill. " Janet had come into the room, and stood behind her. "Don't younotice Camilla, " she advised; "she's not really grown up. " They turned atthe appearance of their mother. "Dear me, Camilla, " the latter observed, "you are getting too particular for any comfort. What has upset you now?"

"Look at Laurel, " Camilla replied; "that's all you need to do. You'dthink she went to dances instead of Sidsall"

Laurel painfully avoided her mother's comprehensive glance. "Verybeautiful, " the elder said in a tone of palpable pleasure. Laureladvanced her lower lip ever so slightly in the direction of Camilla. "But you have taken a great deal into your own hands. " She shiftedapparently to another topic. "There will be no lessons to-day for Ihave to send Miss Gomes into Boston. " At this announcement Laurel wasflooded with a joy that obviously belonged to her former, lessdignified state. "However, " her mother continued addressing her, "sinceyou have dressed yourself like a lady I shall expect you to behaveappropriately; no soiled or torn skirts, and an hour at your pianoscales instead of a half. "

Laurel's anticipation of pleasure ebbed as quickly as it had come--shewould have to move with the greatest caution all day, and spend a wholehour at the piano. It was the room to which she objected rather than thepracticing; a depressing sort of place where she was careful not to moveanything out of the stiff and threatening order in which it belonged. Thechairdeacons in particular were severely watchful; but that, now, she haddetermined to ignore. 

She turned to johnnycakes, honey and milk, only half hearing, in herpreoccupation with the injustice that had overtaken her, the conversationabout the table. Her gaze strayed over the walls of the breakfast room, where water color drawings of vessels, half models of ships on teakwoodor Spanish mahogany boards, filled every possible space. Some hergrandfather had sailed in as second and then first mate, of others he hadbeen master, and the rest, she knew, were owned by Ammidon, Ammidon andSaltonstone, her grandfather, father and uncle. 

Just opposite her was the _Two Capes_ at anchor in Table Bay, the sailsall furled except the fore-topsail which hung in the gear. A gig mannedby six sailors in tarpaulin hats with an officer in the stern sheetsswung with dripping oars across the dark water of the foreground; on theleft an inky ship was standing in close hauled on the port tack with allher canvas set. It was lighter about the _Two Capes_, and at the back amountain with a flat top--showing at once why it was called TableBay--rose against an overcast sky. Laurel knew a great deal about the_Two Capes_--for instance that she had been a barque of two hundred andnine tons--because it had been her grandfather's first command, and henever tired of narrating every detail of that memorable voyage. 

Laurel could repeat most of these particulars: They sailed on the tenthof April in 'ninety-three, and were four and a half months to the Cape ofGood Hope; twenty days later, on the rocky island of St. Paul, grandfather had a fight with a monster seal; a sailor took the scurvy, and, dosed with niter and vinegar, was stowed in the longboat, but hedied and was buried at sea in the Doldrums. Then, with a cargo of Sumatrapepper, they made Corregidor Island and Manilla Bay where the old Spanishfort stood at the mouth of the Pasig. The barque, the final cargo of hempand indigo and sugar in the hold, set sail again for the Cape of GoodHope, and returned, by way of Falmouth in England and Rotterdam, home. 

The other drawings were hardly less familiar; ships, barques, brigs andtopsail schooners, the skillful work of Salmon, Anton Roux and Chinnery. There was the _Celestina_ becalmed off Marseilles, her sails hanging idlyfrom the yards and stays, her hull with painted ports and carved bow andstern mirrored in the level sea. There was the _Albacore_ running throughthe northeast trades with royals and all her weather studding sails set. Farther along the _Pallas Athena_, in heavy weather off the Cape of GoodHope, was being driven hard across the Agulhas Bank under double-reefedtopsails, reefed courses, the fore-topmast staysail and spanker, with thewesterly current breaking in an ugly cross sea, but, as her grandfatheralways explained, setting the ship thirty or forty miles to windward in aday. She lingered, finally, over the _Metacom_, running her easting downfar to the southward with square yards under a close-reefed maintop sail, double-reefed foresail and forestaysail, dead before a gale and giganticlong seas hurling the ship on in the bleak watery desolation. 

Laurel was closely concerned in all these. One cause for this was thefact that her grandfather so often selected her as the audience for hismemories and stories, during which his manner was completely that of onenavigator to another; and a second flourished in the knowledge thatCamilla affected to disdain the sea and any of its connections. 

Sidsall appeared and took her place with a collective greeting; whileLaurel, coming out of her abstraction, realized that they were discussingthe subject in which nearly every conversation now began or ended--thesolemn speculation of why her Uncle Gerrit Ammidon, master of the ship_Nautilus_, was so long overdue from China. Laurel heard this from twoangles, or, otherwise, when her grandfather was or was not present, thetone of the first far more encouraging than that of the latter. Herfather was speaking:

"My opinion is that he was unexpectedly held up at Shanghai. It's a newport for us, and, Captain Verney tells me, very difficult to make: afterWoosung you have to get hold of two bamboo poles stuck up on the bank ahundred feet apart as a leading mark, and, with these in range, steer forthe bar. The channel is very narrow, and he says the _Nautilus_ wouldhave to wait for high water, perhaps for the spring tide. She may havegot ashore, strained and sprung a leak, and had to discharge her cargofor repairs. "

"That's never Gerrit, " the elder replied positively. "There isn't abetter master afloat. He can smell shoal water. I was certain we'd hearfrom him when the _Sorsogon_ was back from Calcutta. Do you suppose, William, that he took the _Nautilus_ about the Horn and--?" Laurelwondered at the unmannerly way in which he gulped his coffee. "He mighthave driven into the Antarctic winter, " he proceeded. "My deck was sweptand all the boats stove off the Falklands in April. "

"Gerrit's got a ship, " the other asserted, "not a hermaphrodite brigbuilt like a butter box. You'll find that I am right and that he has beentied up in port. "

"I made eight hundred per cent on a first cargo for my owners, " the elderretorted. "Then there was trading, yes, and sailing, too. No chronometerswith confounded rates of variation and other fancy parlor instruments toread your position from. When I first navigated it was with an astrolabeand the moon. A master knew his lead, latitude and lookout then. 

"Eight hundred barrels of flour and pine boards to Rio and back withcoffee and hides for Salem, " he continued; "then out to Gibraltar andBrazil with wine and on in ballast for Calcutta. Tahiti and Morea, theSandwich Islands and the Feejees. Sandalwood and tortoise shell and bechede mer; sea horses' teeth, and saltpeter for the Chinese Government. Idon't want to hear about your bills of exchange and kegs of Spanishdollars and solid cargoes of tea run back direct. Why, with your Cantonand India agents and sight drafts the China service is like dealing witha Boston store. "

Laurel saw that her father was assuming the expression of restrainedannoyance habitual when the elder contrasted old shipping ways with new. "Unfortunately, " he said, "the patient Chinaman will no longer exchangesilks and lacquer and teas for boiled sea slugs. He has learned to demandsomething of value. "

"Why, damn it, William, " the other exploded, "nothing's more valuable toa Chinese than his belly. They'll give eighteen hundred dollars a peculfor birds' nests any day. As for your insinuation that we used to diddlethem--I never ran opium up from India to rot their souls. And when theChinese Government tried to stop it there's the British commercialinterests forcing it on them with cannon in 'forty-two. 

"Look at the pepper we brought into Salem--" he was, Laurel realized withintense interest, growing beautifully empurpled; "--lay right off thebeach at Mukka and did business with the Dato himself. We forded the bagson the crew's backs across a river with muskets served in case the bloodyheathen drew their creeses. When we made sail everything was running overwith pepper--the boats and forecastle and cabins and between decks. "

"Well, father, the heroic times are done, of course; I can't say that I'msorry. I shouldn't like to finance a voyage that reached out to threeyears and depended on the captain's picking up six or seven cargoes. "

The old man rose; and, muttering a plainly uncomplimentary period aboutthe resemblance of modern ship owners to clerks, walked with his heavycareful tread from the room. 

"You are so foolish to argue and excite him, " William's wife told him. 

Laurel regarded her with a passionate admiration for the shining hairturning smoothly about her brow and drawn over her ears to the low coilin the back, for her brown barége dress with velvet leaves and blueforget-me-nots and tightest of long sleeves and high collar, and becausegenerally she was a mother to be owned and viewed with pride. She metLaurel's gaze with a little friendly nod and said:

"Don't forget about your clothes, and I think you ought to finish thepracticing before dinner, so you'll be free for a walk with yourgrandfather in the afternoon. "

Soon after, Laurel stood in the hall viewing with disfavor the lightdress she had put on so gayly at rising. In spite of her sense ofincreasing age she had a strong desire to play in the yard and climbabout in the woodhouse. Already the business of being grown up began topall upon her, the outlook dreary that included nothing but a whole hourat the piano, an endless care of her skirts, and the slowest kind of walkthrough Washington Square and down to Derby Wharf, where--no matter inwhich direction and for what purpose they started forth--hergrandfather's way invariably led. 

Janet joined her, and they stood irresolutely balancing on alternateslippers. "Did you notice, " the former volunteered, "mother is lettingCamilla have lots of starch in her petticoats, so that they stand rightout like crinoline? Wasn't she hateful this morning!" Laurel heard aslight sound at her back, and, wheeling, saw her grandfather looking outfrom the library door. A swift premonition of possible additionalmisfortune seized her. Moving toward the side entrance she said to Janet, "We'd better be going right away. "

It was, however, too late. "Well, little girls, " he remarkedbenevolently, "since Miss Gomes has left for the day it would be as wellif I heard your geography lesson. "

"I don't think mother intended for us to study today, " Laurel replied, making a face of appeal for Janet's support. But the latter remainedsolidly and silently neutral. 

"What, what, " the elder mildly exploded; "mutiny in the forecastle! Getright up here in the break of the quarter-deck or I'll harry you. " Hestood aside while Laurel and Janet filed into the library. Geography wasthe only subject their grandfather proposed for his instruction, and thelesson, she knew, might take any one of several directions. He sometimesheard it with the precision of Miss Gomes herself; he might substitutefor the regular questions such queries, drawn from his wide voyages, ashe thought to be of infinitely greater use and interest; or, betterstill, he frequently gave them the benefit of long reminiscences, through which they sat blinking in a mechanical attention or slightlywriggling with minds far away from the old man's periods, full ofoutlandish names and places, and, when he got excited, shocking swears. 

He turned the easy-chair--the one which Laurel had thought of as aship--away from the fireplace, now covered with a green slatted blind forthe summer; and they drew forward two of the heavy chairs with shiningclaw feet that stood against the wall. Smiley's Geography, a book nolarger than the shipmaster's hand, was found and opened to Hindoostan, orIndia within the Ganges. There was a dark surprising picture of Hindoosdoing Penance under the Banyan tree, and a confusing view of the HimalehMountains. 

"Stuff, " he proceeded, gazing with disfavor at the illustrations. "Thisought to be written by men who have seen the world and know its tides andlandmarks. Do you suppose, " he demanded heatedly of Janet, "that thefellow who put this together ever took a ship through the Formosa Channelagainst the northeast monsoon?"

"No, sir, " Janet replied hastily. 

"Here are Climate and Face of the country and Religion, " he located theseitems with a blunt finger, "but I can't find exports. I'll lay he won'tknow a Bengal chintz from a bundle handkerchief. "

"I don't think it says anything about exports, " Laurel volunteered. "Wehave the boundaries and--"

"Bilge, " he interrupted sharply. "I didn't fetch boundaries back in the_Two Capes_, did I?" He thrust the offending volume into a crevice of hischair. "Laurel, " he added, "what is the outport of St. Petersburg?"

"Cronstadt, " she answered, after a violent searching of her memory. 

"And for Manilla?" he turned to Janet. 

"I can't think, " she admitted. 

"Laurel?"

"Cavite, " the latter pronounced out of a racking mental effort. 

"Just so, and--" he looked up at the ceiling, "the port for Boston?"

"I don't believe we've had that, " she said firmly. His gaze fastened onher so intently that she blushed into her lap. "Don't believe we've hadit, " he echoed. 

"Why, confound it--" he paused and regarded her with a new doubt. "Laurel, " he demanded, "what is an outport?"

She had a distinct feeling of justifiable injury. A recognized part ofthe present system of examination was its strict limitation to questionsmade familiar by constant repetition; and this last was entirely new. She was sure of several kinds of ports--one they had after dinner, another indicated a certain side of a vessel, and still a third wasSalem. But an outport--Cronstadt, Cavite, what it really meant, what theywere, had escaped her. She decided to risk an opinion. 

"An outport, " she said slowly, "is a--a part of a ship, " that muchseemed safe--"I expect it's the place where they throw things likepotato peels through. "

"You suppose what!" he cried, breathing quite hard. "A place wherethey--" he broke off. "And you're Jeremy Ammidon's granddaughter! Byheaven, it would make a coolie laugh. It's like William, who never wouldgo to sea, to have four daughters in place of a son. I'm done with you;go tinker on the piano. " They got down from their chairs and departedwith an only half concealed eagerness. "Do you think he means it, " Janetasked hopefully, "and he'll never have any geography again?"

"No, I don't, " Laurel told her shortly. She was inwardly ruffled, andfurther annoyed at Janet's placid acceptance of whatever the day broughtalong. Janet was a stick! She turned away and found herself facing theparlor and the memory of the impending hour of practice. Well, it had tobe done before dinner, and she went forward with dragging feet. 

Within the formal shaded space of the chamber she stopped to speculateon the varied and colorful pictures of the wall paper reaching from thewhite paneling above her waist to the deep white carving at the ceiling. The scene which absorbed her most showed, elevated above a smooth stream, a marble pavilion with sweeping steps and a polite company about areclining gentleman with bare arms and a wreath on his head and a lady inflowing robes playing pipes. To the right, in deep green shadow, acharmer was swinging from ropes of flowers, lovers hid behind a brownmossy trunk; while on the left, against a weeping willow and frowningrock, four serene creatures gathered about a barge with a gilded prow. 

Still on her reluctant progress to the piano she stopped to examine theEast India money on the lowest shelf of a locked corner cupboard. Therewas a tiresome string of cash with a rattan twisted through their squareholes; silver customs taels, and mace and candareen; Chinese gold leafand Fukien dollars; coins from Cochin China in the shape of India ink, with raised edges and characters; old Carolus hooked dollars; Syceesilver ingots, smooth and flat above, but roughly oval on the lowersurface, not unlike shoes; Japanese obangs, their gold stamped and beatenout almost as broad as a hand's palm; mohurs and pieces from Singapore;Dutch guilders from Java; and the small silver and gold drops of Siamcalled tical. 

She arrived finally at the harplike stool of the piano; but there she hadto wait until the clock in the hall above struck some division of thehour for her guidance, and she rattled the brass rings that formed thehandles of drawers on either side of the keyboard. Later, her fingerspicking a precarious way through bass and treble, she heard Sidsall'svoice at the door; the latter was joined by their mother, and they wentout to the clatter of hoofs, the thin jingle of harness chains, where thebarouche waited for them in the street. Once Camilla obtruded into theroom. "I wonder you don't give yourself a headache, " she remarked; "Inever heard more nerve-racking sounds. "

Laurel gathered that Camilla was proud of this expression, which she musthave newly caught from some grown person. She considered a reply, but, nothing sufficiently crushing occurring, she ignored the other in adifficult transposition of her hands. Camilla left; the clock abovestruck a second quarter; the third, while she honestly continued herefforts up until the first actual note of the hour. 

"Thank God that's over, " she said in the liberal manner of a shipmaster. Now only the walk with her grandfather remained of the actively tiresomeduties of the day. After dinner the sun blazed down with almost the heatof midsummer, and Laurel felt unexpectedly indifferent, content to lingerin the house. Only too soon she heard inquiries for her; and in hergaiter boots, a silk bonnet with a blue scarf tied under her chin andflowing over a shoulder and palm leaf cashmere shawl, she accompanied theold man across Pleasant Street and over the wide green Square to thearched west gate with its gilt eagle and Essex Street. 

"Will we be going on Central Street?" she asked. 

"No reason for turning down there, " he replied, forgetful of thegingerbread shop with the shaky little bell inside the door, the butteredgingerbread on the upper shelf for three cents and that without on thelower for two. She gathered her hopes now about Webb's Drugstore, whereher grandfather sometimes stopped for a talk, and bought her rock candy, Gibraltars or blackjacks. It was too hot for blackjacks, she decided, and, with opportunity, would choose the cooling peppermint flavor of theGibraltars. 

The elms on Essex Street were far enough in leaf to cast a flickeringshade in the faintly salt air drifting from the sea; and they progressedso slowly that Laurel was able to study the contents of most of the storewindows they passed. Some held crewels and crimped white cakes of wax, gayly colored reticule beads with a wooden spoon for a penny measure, and"strawberry" emery balls. There was a West India store and a place wherethey sold oil and candles, another had charts for mariners; while acrossthe way stood the East India Marine Hall. 

Here her grandfather hesitated, and for a moment it seemed as if he wouldgo over and join the masters always to be found about the Museum. But inthe end he continued beyond the Essex House with its iron bow and lampover the entrance, past Cheapside to Webb's Drugstore, where he purchaseda bag of Peristaltic lozenges, and--after pretending to start away as ifnothing more were to be secured there--the Gibraltars. 

They were returning, in the general direction of Derby Wharf, when JeremyAmmidon met a companion of past days at sea, and stopped for theinevitable conversational exchange. The latter, who had such a greatspreading beard that Laurel couldn't determine whether or not he wore aneck scarf, said:

"Barzil Dunsack all but died. "

"Ha!" the other exclaimed. Laurel wondered at the indelicacy in speakingabout old Captain Dunsack to her grandfather, when everyone in Salem knewthey had quarreled years ago and not spoken to each other since. 

"He was bad off, " he persisted; "a cold grappled in his chest and wentinto lung fever. Barzil's looking wasted, what with sickness and thetrouble about Edward. " At a nod, half encouraging, he added, "It appearsEdward left Heard and Company in Canton and took ship back to Boston. He's there now for what I know. Never sent any word to Salem or hisfather. Looks a little as if he had been turned out of his berth. Thenone of Barzil's schooners caught the edge of the last hurricane off theGreat Bank and went ashore on Green Turtle Key. Used him near all up. "

Laurel saw that her grandfather was frowning heavily and silently movinghis lips. The other left them standing and her companion brought his canedown sharply. "Boy and boy, " he said. "Barzil was a good man... Lookingold. So am I, so am I. Feet almost useless. Laurel, " he addressed her, "Iwant you to go right on home. I've got to stop around and see an oldfriend who has been sick. " She left obediently, but paused once to gazeback incredulously at the bulky shape of her grandfather moving towardBarzil Dunsack's. That quarrel was part of their family history, she hadbeen aware of it as long as she had of the solemn clock in the secondhall; and not very far back, perhaps when she was eight, it had taken afresh activity of discussion around the person of her Uncle Gerrit, who, it was feared, might now be drowned at sea. What it had all been aboutneither she nor her sisters knew, for not only was the subject dropped atthe approach of any of them but they were forbidden to mention it. 

At home she was unable to communicate her surprising news at once becauseof the flood of talk that met her from the drawing-room. Olive Wibird andLacy, her cousin, were engaged with Sidsall in a conversation often aduet and sometimes a trio. Laurel took a seat at the edge of the chatterand followed it comprehensively. She didn't like Olive Wibird who wouldgreet her in a sugary voice; but elsewhere Olive was tremendouslyadmired, there were always men about her, serenades rising from the lawnbeneath her window, and Laurel herself had seen Olive's dressing tableladen with bouquets in frilly lace paper. She had one now, in a holder ofmother-of-pearl, with a gilt chain and ring. Her wide skirt was a mass ofover-drapery, knots of moss roses and green gauze ribbons; while a silvercord ending in a tassel fell forward among her curls. 

Lacy Saltonstone, almost as plainly dressed as Sidsall, was as usualsitting straighter than anyone else Laurel ever saw; she had a brownface with a finely curved nose and brown eyes, and her voice was cooland decided. 

"For me, " she said, "he is the most fascinating person in Salem. "

Olive Wibird made a swift face of dissent. "He's too stiff and there isgray in his hair. I like my men more like sparkling hock. Dancing withhim he holds you as if you were glass. "

"I don't seem to remember you and Mr. Brevard together, " Lacy commented. 

"He hasn't asked me for centuries, " the other admitted. "He did Sidsall, though, as we all remember; didn't he, love?"

Sidsall's cheeks turned bright pink. Laurel dispassionately wished thather sister wouldn't make such a show of herself. It was too bad thatSidsall was so--so broad and well looking; she was not in the least paleor interesting, and had neither Lacy's Saltonstone's thin gracefulnessnor Olive's popular manner. 

"It was very noble of him, " Sidsall agreed. 

"But he was extremely engaged, " Lacy assured her with her wide slowstare. "He told me that you were like apple blossoms. "

That might please Sidsall, thought Laurel, but she personally held appleblossoms to be a very common sort of flower. Evidently something of thekind had occurred to Olive, too, for she said: "Heaven only knows whatmen will admire. It's clear they don't like a prude. I intend to have agood time until I get married--"

"But what if you love in vain?" Sidsall interrupted. 

"There isn't any need for that, " Olive told her. "When I see a man Iwant I'm going to get him. It's easy if you know how and makeopportunities. I always have one garter a little loose. "

"Laurel, " her sister turned, "I'm certain your supper is ready. Go alonglike a nice child. "

In her room a woman with a flat worn face and a dusty wisp of hair acrossher neck was spreading underlinen, ironed into beautiful narrow wisps ofpleating, in a drawer. It was Hodie, a Methodist, the only one Laurelknew, and the latter was always entranced by the servant's religiousexclamations, doubts and audible prayers. She was saying something nowabout pits, gauds and vanities; and she ended a short profession of faithwith an amen so loud and sudden that Laurel, although she was waiting forit, jumped. 

It was past seven, the air was so sweet with lilacs that they seemed tobe blooming in her room, and the sunlight died slowly from still space. By leaning out of her window she could see over the Square. Thelamplighter was moving along its wooden fence, leaving faint twinklingyellow lights, and there were little gleams from the windows on BathStreet beyond. 

The gayety of her morning mood was replaced by a dim kind of wondering, her thoughts became uncertain like the objects in the quivering lightoutside. The palest possible star shone in the yellow sky; she had tolook hard or it was lost. Janet, stirring in the next room, seemed so faraway that she might not hear her, Laurel, no matter how loudly shecalled. "Janet!" she cried, prompted by unreasoning dread. "You needn'tto yell, " Janet complained, at the door. But already Laurel was obliviousof her: she had seen a familiar figure slowly crossing Washington Square--her grandfather coming home from Captain Dunsack's. 

Gracious, how poky he was; she was glad that she wasn't dragging along athis side. He seemed bigger and rounder than usual. She heard the tap ofhis cane as he left the Common for Pleasant Street; then his feet movedand stopped, moved and stopped, up the steps of their house. 

She was sorry now that she hadn't known what an outport was, anddetermined to ask him to-morrow. She liked his stories, that Camilladisdained, about crews and Hong Kong and the stormy Cape. The thought ofCape Horn brought back the memory of her Uncle Gerrit, absent in theship _Nautilus_. Her mental pictures of him were not clear--he wasalmost always at sea--but she remembered his eyes, which were veryconfusing to encounter, and his hair parted and carelessly brushing thebottoms of his ears. 

Laurel recalled hearing that Gerrit was his father's favorite, and shesuddenly understood something of the unhappiness that weighed upon theold man. She hoped desperately that Janet or Camilla wouldn't come in andlaugh at her for crying. In bed she saw that the room was rapidly fillingwith dusk. Only yesterday she would have told herself that the dragon inthe teakwood chair was stirring; but now Laurel could see that it nevermoved. She rocked like the little boats that crossed the harbor or camein from the ships anchored beyond the wharves, and settled into a sleeplike a great placid sea flooding the world of her home and thelamplighter and her grandfather sorrowing for Uncle Gerrit. 

II

When Jeremy Ammidon sent his granddaughter home alone, and turned towardCaptain Dunsack's, on Hardy Street, he stopped for a moment to approvethe diminishing sturdy figure. All William's children, though they weregirls, were remarkably handsome, with glowing red cheeks and clear eyes, tumbling masses of hair and a generous vigor of body. He sighed atLaurel's superabundant youth, and moved carefully forward; he was veryheavy, and his progress was uncertain. His thoughts were divided betweenthe present and the past--Barzil Dunsack, aged and ill and unfortunate, and the happening long ago that had resulted in a separation of yearsafter a close youthful companionship. 

It had occurred while Barzil was master of the brig _Luna, _ owned byBilly Gray, and he, Jeremy, was first mate. In the exactness with whichhe recalled every detail of his life in ships he remembered that at thetime they were off Bourbon Island, about a hundred and ten milessouthwest of the lie de France. The _Luna_ was close hauled, and, whileBarzil was giving an order at the wheel, she fetched a bad lee lurchand sent him in a heap across the deck, striking his head against thebumkin bitts. He had got up dazed but not apparently seriously injured;and after his head had been swabbed and bound by the steward hereturned to the poop. There, however, his conduct had been sopeculiar--among other things sending down the watch to put on Sundayrig against a possible hail by the Lord--that, after a longconsultation with Mr. Patterson, the second mate and the boatswain, anda brief announcement to the crew, he, Jeremy Ammidon, had taken commandin their interest and that of the owner. 

Barzil had made difficulties: Mr. Patterson struck up a leveled pistol inthe master's hand just as it exploded. They had confined him, in chargeof the unhappy steward, to his cabin; where, after he had completelyrecovered from the effects of the blow, and Jeremy had been upheld by theauthorities at Table Bay, he stubbornly remained until the _Luna_ hadbeen warped into Salem. 

From the moment of their landing they had not exchanged a word. Jeremywas surprised to find himself at present bound toward the other's house. He was not certain that Barzil would even see him; but, he muttered, thething had lasted long enough, they were too old for such foolishness; andthe other had come into adverse winds, now, when he should be lyingquietly in a snug harbor. 

He had never paid serious attention to the threatened complication two orthree years before, when Gerrit had been seen repeatedly with KateDunsack's irregularly born daughter. He was sorry for the two women. Itwas his opinion that the man had been shipped drunk by some boardinghouse runner; anyhow, only the second day out Vollar had been lostoverboard from the main-royal yard, and Kate's child born outside thelaw. It was hard, he told himself again, walking down Orange Street, pastthe Custom House to Derby. 

The girl, Nettie Vollar--they had adopted the father's name--wasattractive in a decided French way, with crisp black hair, a pert noseand dimple, and, why, good heavens, twenty-one or two years old if shewas a week! How time did run. It was nothing extraordinary if Gerrit hadbeen seen a time or two with her on the street, or even if he had calledat the Dunsacks'. Barzil's and his quarrel didn't extend to all themembers of their families; and as for the Dunsacks being common--that wasnonsense. Barzil was as good as he any day; only where he had prospered, and moved up into a showy place on the Common, the other had had thehead winds. Through no fault of his own the reputation had fastened onhim of being unlucky in his cargoes: if he carried tea and colonialexports to, say, Antwerp, they would have been declared contraband whilehe was at sea, and seized on the docks; he had been blown, in animpenetrable fog, ashore on Tierra del Fuego, and, barely making CapePembroke, had been obliged to beach his ship, a total loss. Then therewas Kate's trouble. Barzil was a rigorously moral and religious man andhis pain at that last must have been heavy. 

Jeremy Ammidon's mind turned to Gerrit, his son; this interest in NettieVollar, if it had existed, was characteristic of the boy, who had a quickheart and an honest disdain for the muddling narrow ways of the land. Hewould have sought her out simply from the instinct to protest against thesmugness of Salem opinion. A fine sailor, and a master at twenty-two. Agreat one to carry sail; yet in the sixteen years of his commands he hadhad no more serious accident than the loss of a fore-topgallant mast orsplitting a couple of courses. It was Gerrit's ability, the splendidqualities of his ship, that made Jeremy hope he would still come sailinginto the harbor with some narration of delay and danger overcome. 

He was now on Derby Street, in a region of rigging and sail lofts, blockand pump makers, ships' stores, spar yards, gilders, carvers and workersin metal. There was a strong smell of tar and new canvas and the flatodor that rose at low water. Sailors passed, yellow powerfulScandinavians and dark men with earrings from southern latitudes, in redor checked shirts, blue dungarees and glazed black hats with trailingribbons, or in cheap and clumsy shore clothes. There was a scraping offiddle from an upper window, the sound of heavy capering feet and thestale laughter of harborside women. 

On Hardy Street he continued to the last house at the right, the fartherside of which gave across a yard of uneven bricks, straggling bushes andaged splitting apple trees and an expanse of lush grass ending abruptlyin a wooden embankment and the water. A short fence turned in from thesidewalk to the front door, where Jeremy knocked. A long pause followed, in which he became first impatient and then irritable; and he was liftinghis hand for a second summons when the door suddenly opened and he wasfacing Kate Vollar. There was only a faint trace of surprise on herapathetic--Jeremy Ammidon called it moonlike--countenance; as if heroverwhelming mischance had robbed her features of all further expressionsof interest or concern. 

"I heard, " Jeremy said in a voice pitched loud enough to conceal anyinward uncertainty, "that your father had been sick. Met Captain Rendellon Essex Street and he said Barzil had lung fever. Thought I'd see ifthere was any truth in it. "

"He just managed to stay alive, " Kate Vollar replied, gazing at him withher stilled gray eyes. "But he's better now, though he's not up and aboutyet. Shall I tell him that--that you are here?"

"Yes. Just say Jeremy Ammidon's below, and would like to pass a greetingwith him. "

He followed the woman in, and entered a large gloomy chamber while shemounted the stair leading directly from the front. The blackenedfireplace gaping uncovered for the summer, the woodwork, painted yellowwith an artificial graining, and a stiff set of ebonized chairs, theirdingy crimson plush backs protected by elaborate thread antimacassars, seemed to hold and reflect the misfortunes of their owner. Jeremy pickedup an ostrich egg, painted with a clump of viciously green coconut palmsand a cottony surf; he put it down with an absent smile and impatientlyfingered a volume of "The Life of Harriet Atwood Newell. " She was one ofthe missionaries who had gone out on the _Caravan_, with Augustine Heard, to India, but forbidden to land there had died not long after on the Îlede France. 

"Houqua was a damned good heathen, " he said aloud: "and so wasNasservanjee. " He left the table and proceeded to a window opening uponthe harbor, here fretted with wharves. A barque was fast in a smallstone-bound dock, newly in, his practiced glance saw, from a blue watervoyage, Africa probably. Her standing gear was in a perfection and beautyof order that spoke of long tranquil days in the trades, and that no mereharbor riggers could hope to accomplish. The deck was burdened with theugly confusion of unloading. Jeremy studied the jibs stowed in harborcovers, the raking masts and tapering royal poles over the stolid roofs. Ordinarily seeing no more he could not only name a vessel trading out ofSalem, but from her rig recognize anyone of a score of masters who, otherwise unheralded, might be in command. 

However, here he was at a loss, and he thought again of the change, thedecline, that had overtaken Salem shipping, the celebrated merchants; thepennants of William Gray, he reflected, had flown from the main truck offifteen ships, seven barques, thirteen brigs and schooners. Ammidon, Ammidon and Saltonstone, in spite of his vehement protests, the counselof the oldest member of the firm, were moving shipment by shipment alltheir business to Boston, listening to the promptings of State Street andCentral Wharf. 

To the right was the sagging landing from which Barzil's schoonerssailed trading with the West Indies; and back of it, and of hishouse, stood the small office. His mind had turned to thisinconsiderable commerce when Kate Vollar entered and told him thather father would see him. 

Barzil Dunsack was propped up in bed in a room above that in which Jeremyhad been waiting. He, totally different from the other, showed his age insunken dry cheeks, a forehead like an arch of bone, and a thick shortgray beard. A long faded lock of hair had been hastily brushed forwardand an incongruously bright knitted scarf drawn about his shoulders. 

Jeremy Ammidon concealed his dismay not only at Barzil's wrecked beingbut at the dismal aspect of the interior, the worn rugs with their piecesof once bright material frayed and loose, the splitting veneer of an oldchest of drawers and blistered mirror above a dusty iron grate. "You havegot in among the rocks!" he exclaimed. "Still they tell me you'veweathered the worst. Copper bound and oak ribs. Don't build them likethat to-day. "

Barzil Dunsack's eyes were bright and searching behind steel-rimmedspectacles, and he studied Jeremy without replying. "Well, isn't there asalute in you?" the latter demanded, incensed. "I'm not a Malay proa. "

The grim shadow of a smile dawned on Barzil's countenance. "I mind onehanging on our quarter by Formosa, " he returned; "I trained a cannon aftand fired a shot, when she sheered off. That was in the _Flora_ in'ninety-seven. "

A long silence enveloped them. Jeremy's mind was thronged with memoriesof ports and storms, mates and ships and logged days. "Remember Oahu likeit was when we first made it, " he queried, "and the Kanaka girls swimmingout to the ship with hybiscus flowers in their hair? Yes, and theanchorage at Tahiti with the swells pounding on the coral reef andPapeete under the mountain? It was nice there in the afternoon, lying offthe beach with the white cottages among the palms and orange trees andthe band playing in the grove by Government House. "

Captain Dunsack frowned at the trivial character of these memories. Hemuttered something about the weight of the Lord, and the carnal hearts ofthe men in ships. Jeremy declared, "Stuff! He'll wink at a sailor manwith hardly a free day on shore. It wasn't bad at Calcutta, either, withan awning on the quarter-deck, watching the carriages and syces in theMaidan and maybe a corpse or two floating about the gangway from theburning ghauts. "

"A mean entrance, " Barzil Dunsack asserted. "I don't know a worse withthe southwest monsoon in the Bay of Bengal and the pilot brigs gonefrom the Sand Heads. That's where Heard got pounded with the _Emerald_drawing nineteen feet, and eighteen on the bar. Shook the reefs out ofhis topsails, laid her on her beam ends, and with some inches savedscraped in. "

"Pick up the three Juggernaut Pagodas of Ganjam, " Jeremy remarkedabsently. 

"'Thou shalt have no other God--'"

Jeremy, with a glint in his eye, asked, "Wasn't your last consignment ofWest India molasses marked Medford?"

"You always were a scoffer, " the other replied, unmoved. 

"How's Nettie?" Jeremy Ammidon inquired with a deliberate show ofinterest. 

Barzil's lips tightened. "I haven't seen her for a little, " he replied. "She's been visiting at Ipswich. " Jeremy added, "A good girl, " but theman in bed made no further comment. His undimmed gaze was fastened upon awall, his mouth folded in a hard line on a harsh and deeply seamedcountenance. An able man pursued by bad luck. 

"Nothing's been heard from Gerrit, " Jeremy said after a little. Still theother kept silent. His face darkened: by God, if Barzil hadn't a decentword for the fact that Gerrit was seven months overdue, perhaps lost, this was not a house for him. "I say that we've had nothing from my sonsince he lay in the Lye-ee-Moon Pass off Hong Kong, " he repeated sharply. 

A spasm of suffering, instantly controlled, passed over Barzil's face. "Gerrit called once and again before he last sailed for Montevideo, " hefinally pronounced. "I stopped it and he left in a temper. I--I won'thave another mortal sin here like Kate's. "

"Do you mean that Gerrit's loose?" Jeremy hotly demanded, rising. "Amore honorable boy never breathed. " Barzil was cold. "I told him not tocome back, " he repeated; "it would only lead to--to shamefulness. "Jeremy shook his cane toward the bed. "I may be a scoffer, " he cried, "but I wouldn't hold a judgment over a child of mine! I'm not so damnedholy that I can look down on a misfortunate girl. If Gerrit did come tosee Nettie and the boy had a liking for her, why you drove away a cursedgood husband. And if you think for a minute I wouldn't welcome herbecause that Vollar fell off a yard before he could find a preacheryou're an old fool!"

"Nettie must bear her burden: far better be dead than a stumbling block. "

"Well, I'd rather be a drunken pierhead jumper on the Waterloo Road thanany such pious blue nose. I'll tell you this, too--I'd hate to ship aforethe mast under you for all you'd have the ensign on the booby hatch withprayers read Sunday morning. I don't wonder you got into weather; I'dhave no word for a Creator who didn't blow in your eye. "

"I'll listen to no blasphemy, Captain Ammidon, " Barzil Dunsacksaid sternly. 

"And I'll speak my mind, Captain Dunsack; it's this--your girls are along sight too good for you or for any other judgmatical, psalm-singingdevil dodger. " He stood fuming at the door. "Good afternoon to you. "

Barzil Dunsack reclined with his gaunt bearded head sunk forward on histhin chest swathed in the gay worsted wrap, his wasted hands, the tendonscorded with pale violet veins, clenched outside the checkered quiltbeneath which his body made scarcely a mark. 

Outside, in the soft glow of beginning dusk, Jeremy blamed himselfbitterly for his anger at the sick man. He had gone to see him in aspirit friendly with old memories, forgetful of their long quarrel in thestirred emotions of the past days of youth and first manhood; and he hadshouted at Barzil as if he were a lubber at the masthead. 

He realized that in order to be in time for supper he must turn towardthe Common and home; but his gaze caught the spars of the strangebarque; and, mechanically, he made his way over a narrow grassy passageto the wharf. She was the _Cora Sellers_ of Marblehead, and he recognizedfrom a glance at the cargo that she had been out to the East Coast ofAfrica--Mozambique and Zanzibar, Aden and Muscat. A matted frail of datesswung ponderously in air, there were baled goatskins and sacks of Mochacoffee, sagging baskets of reddish unwashed gum copal carried in bulk, and a sun-blackened mate smoking a rat-tail Dutch cigar was supervisingthe moving of elephant tusks in a milky glimmer of ivory ashore. 

There was a vague murmur of the rising tide, beyond the wharves andwarehouses the water was faintly rippled in silver and rose, and a shipwas standing into the harbor with all her canvas spread to the lightwind. He turned away with a sigh and walked slowly up toward the elms ofPleasant Street. At his front door he stopped to regard the polishedbrass plate where in place of his name he had caused to be engraved thewords Java Head. They held for him, coming into this pleasant dwellingafter so many tumultuous years at sea, the symbol of the safe and happyend of an arduous voyage; just as the high black rock of Java Headthrusting up over the horizon promised the placidity and accomplishmentof the Sunda Strait. Whenever he noticed the plate he felt again therelief of coasting that northerly shore:

He saw the mate forward with the crew passing the chains through thehawse pipes and shackling them to the anchors. The island rose from levelgroves of shore palms to lofty blue peaks terraced with rice andred-massed kina plantations, with shining streams and green kanangaflowers and tamarinds. The land breeze, fragrant with clove buds andcinnamon, came off to the ship in the vaporous dusk; and, in the blazingsunlight of morning, the Anjer sampans swarmed out with a shrill chatterof brilliant birds, monkeys and naked brown humanity, piled with darkgreen oranges and limes and purple mangosteen. 

In the last few years, particularly with Gerrit away, he had turned moreand more from the surroundings of his house--rather it had becomeWilliam's house--to an inner life of memories. His own active life seemedto him to have been infinitely fuller, more purposeful and various, thanthat of present existence at Java Head. All Salem had been different: hehad a certain contempt for the existence of his son William and thelatter's associates and friends. He had said that the trading now done inships was like dealing at a Boston store, and the merchants reminded himof storekeepers. The old days, when a voyage was a public affair, and aship's manifest posted in the Custom House on which anyone might writehimself down for a varying part of the responsibility and profit, hadgiven place to closed capital; the passages from port to port with thecaptain, as often as not, his own supercargo and a figure of importance, had become scheduled affairs in which a master was subjected to anycountinghouse clerk with an order from the firm: the ships themselveswere fast being ruined. 

He was in his room, after supper, seated momentarily on a day bed with acovering of white Siberian fox skins, and he pronounced aloud, in a toneof satirical contempt, the single word, "Clipper. " Nearly everyone in theshipping business seemed to have been touched by this madness for theridiculous ideas of an experimental Griffiths and his model of a shipwith the bows turned inside out, the greatest beam aft and a dead riselike an inverted roof. That the _Rainbow_, the initial result of thisinsanity, hadn't capsized at her launching had been due to some freak ofchance; just as her miraculous preservation through a voyage or so toChina could have been made possible only by continuously mild weather. 

Even if the _Rainbow_ had been fast--her run was called ninety-two daysout to Canton and home in eighty-eight--it was absurd to suppose thatthere had been the usual monsoon. And if she did come in a little aheadof vessels built on a solid full-bodied model, why her hold had no cargocapacity worth the name. 

Things on the seas were going to the devil! He moved down to the library, where he lighted a cheroot and addressed himself to the _Gazette_; buthis restlessness increased: the paper drooped and his thoughts turned toGerrit as a small boy. He saw him leaving home, for the first time, to goto the school at Andover, in a cloth cap with a glazed peak, striped longpantaloons and blue coat and waistcoat; later at the high desk in thecounting-rooms of Ammidon, Ammidon and Saltonstone; then sailing assupercargo on one of the Company's ships to Russia and Liverpool. He hadsoon dropped such clerking for seamen's duties, and his rise tomastership had been rapid. 

Rhoda, William's wife, entered and stood before him accusingly. "You areworrying again, " she declared; "in here all by yourself. It really seemsas if you didn't believe in our interest or affection. I have a feeling, and you know they are always right, that Gerrit will sail into the harborany day now. "

He had always liked Rhoda, a large handsome woman with rich coloring--hercountenance somehow reminded him of an apricot--and fine clothes. Shepaused, studied him for a moment, and then asked, "Was your call onCaptain Dunsack pleasant?"

"It ought to have been, " he confided, "but I got mad and talked like aDutch uncle, and Barzil went off on a holy tack. "

"About Nettie Vollar?"

Jeremy nodded. "Look here, Rhoda, " he demanded, "did Gerrit ever sayanything to you about her?"

"Yes, " she told him; "Gerrit was very frank. "

"Did he like the girl?"

"I couldn't make that out. But if there hadn't been, well--somethingunusual in her circumstances I think he would never have noticed her. Gerrit is a curious mixture, a very impressionable heart and a contrarystubborn will. He was sorry for Nettie, and, at the way a great manypeople treated her, threw himself into opposition. Nettie's father madehim very mad, and Gerrit pretty well damned all Salem before he left inthe _Nautilus_. He was excruciatingly funny: you know Gerrit can be, particularly when he imitates anybody. I think being away at sea a greatdeal, and having absolute command of everything, give men a differentview of things from ours. What is terribly important to Salem hardlytouches Gerrit; it's all silly pretense, or worse, to him. 

"I wouldn't mind that if it weren't for the sense of humor that leads himinto the wildest extravagances, and the fact that he'll act on hisfeelings. You know I'm devoted to him but I give a sigh of reliefwhenever he gets away on his ship without doing any one of the hundredinsanities he threatens. "

"Gerrit's like me, " he said. 

"More than William, " she agreed. "William is never impetuous, and he'soften impatient with his brother. He's a splendid husband, but Gerritwould make a wonderful lover. I'm thankful I never fell into hisaffections ... Too wearing for an indolent woman. "

"You've been a great comfort and pleasure, Rhoda, " he told her. "I onlywish Gerrit could marry someone like you--"

"But who would give him sons, " she interrupted. 

"It's just as you say about him, and I've always been uneasy. God knowswhat he won't do--on land. William's a great deal happier, for all hisbrother's humor. I joke William, but he's very satisfactory and solid. He'll make port if he doesn't get tied up with newfangled notions. Why, it stands to reason that a ship built like a knife would double up in theseas off the Falklands. "

"He has a lot of confidence in Mr. McKay. "

"McKay is a good man unsettled. The _May Broughton_ is a fine barque, and his packet ships are as seaworthy as any, but--" his indignationincreased so that he sputtered, and Rhoda laughed. "Now your girls, "he added, "fine models, all of them, plenty of beam, work in any kindof weather. "

"That's very complimentary, " she assured him, rising. "You mustn't worryabout Gerrit. Remember, my predictions never fail. "

When she had gone his mind returned to storms he had safelyweathered--the gray gales of Cape Horn, black hurricanes and theexplosive tempests in eastern straits and seas. He took from the drawerof a bookcase with glass doors set in geometrical pattern a thin volumebound in black boards. A paper label was inscribed in a small, carefullyformed script, "Journal of my intended voyage from Salem to the EastIndies in the Ship _Woodbine_. " He opened at random:

"Comes in with strong wind from SSE with rain squalls. Very ugly sea on. Double reefed the Topsails, reefed the courses and furled the mainsail. At six p. M. Shipped a very heavy sea that carried away the bulwarks onthe larboard quarter and stove those on the starboard quarter andamidships ... Upper cabin filled with water. Through the night stronggales.... Lightning at all points of the compass. "

The memory of this night, six days out from Manilla to Hong Kong, wasclearer than the actuality of the room in which he sat, an old man withhis activity, his strength, his manhood, far behind him, a hulk. 

"At ten split the mainsail in pieces. Close reefed the fore anddouble reefed the main-topsails. Rising gales and heavy head sea. Shipping a great quantity of water and leaking considerable. Bent anew mainsail and set it. Reefed and set the jib. Pumping near twothousand strokes an hour. 

"October seventh, Sunday. Comes in with strong gales and a heavy headsea. Both officers crippled and man laid up. Through the night the same. Leaking badly. A great number of junks in sight ... And so at five p. M. Come to anchor. "

He had been a good man then, sixteen days on the quarter-deck withoutgoing below; insensible to ice or fever or weariness. He had beenautocratic, too; and had his boy servant carrying areca nuts, chunamand tobacco in two silk bags, another with a fan and a third holdingan umbrella. Such things were all over now, he understood, in thisdriving age. 

His mind continually returned to Gerrit, to dwell on the vast number ofperils held in store by the sea; there was always the possibility ofscurvy, an entire crew rotting alive in the forecastle and the shipbroached to, dismasted; of mutiny; the sheer smothering finality ofvolcanic waves. He had never realized until now, in the misery ofuncertainty, the hellish loneliness of a shipmaster at sea; the pride ofduty, the necessity of discipline, that put him beyond all counsel, allassistance and human interdependence. Jeremy, who had arrogantly acceptedthis responsibility without a question, through so many long years andvoyages, now dreaded it, found it an inhuman burden, for his son. 

William couldn't be expected to appreciate the difficulties of hisbrother's position: all the former's experience had been got when, withJames Saltonstone and a party of Salem merchants, he ventured to thelighthouse at the entrance of the harbor, had a cold collation, andreturned with the pilot or in the Custom House sloop. These occasions ofhuzzas and salutes and speeches were supplemented with a hastyinspection, now and then, of a vessel lying still at the wharf with sailsharbor furled. William guessed little of the long effort through which aship won from the first of those moments to the last. He was solelyconcerned with the returns of the cargo. 

However, Rhoda was right, and this mooning wouldn't bring Gerrit intoport. He turned to the bookcase, where a squat bottle of Medford rumrested beside a tumbler; after a drink he lighted a cheroot and smokingvigorously, with hands clasped behind him, paced back and forth in anundeviating line between the door to the hall and a dark polishedsecretary he had bought in London. 

While he was walking Camilla came into the room and sedately took a seaton one of the formal chairs against the wall. "I guess you think that'sthe deck of a ship, " she said conversationally. He regarded her with afaint threatening glint of humor. Camilla's dignity was stupendous;particularly now, when, he observed, her skirts stood out in a thoroughlygrown manner. He liked Laurel best of William's children; she had, inspite of her confusion in regard to outports, a surprising grasp uponmany of the details of life on shipboard, and a largeness of manner andexpression entertaining in a little girl. Sidsall was the mostingratiating--she had Gerrit's direct kindling gaze; Janet showed noindividuality yet beyond an entire willingness to conform to outwardcircumstance while pursuing deeply secret speculations within. ButCamilla impressed the entire family by the rigidity of her correctness inpersonal and social niceties. At times, he felt, she would be a nuisancebut for the firm hand of her mother and his own contribution to theirwell-being by an occasional sly sally. 

"It might be that, " he admitted; "if it weren't for the facts that it's ahouse and library, and I'm an old man, and you're not at all like thesecond mate. "

"I should hope not, " she replied decidedly. "A second mate isn'tanything, and I am a--a young lady anyhow. "

"You'll soon be out at dances. "

"I go to parties now; that is, mother let me stay at the Coggswells' onThursday until the men came at nine for sangaree. And I'm at all theBallad Soirées. "

He made a gesture of pretended surprise and admiration. "I don't supposethey ever have a good chantey with the stuff they play?" he queried. "Dear me, no. Mr. Dempster sings The Indian's Lament, and The May Queen:that's a cantata and it's in three parts. "

Jeremy began to hum, and in a moment was intoning in a loud monotonousvoice, sweeping a hand up and down:

_"To my hero, Bangedero, Singing hey for a gay Hash girl. "_

"I don't think that's very nice, " she said primly. 

"What do you mean--not very nice?" he demanded, incensed. "There'snothing finer with a rousing chanteyman leading it and the watch haulingon the braces. You'd never hear the like at any Ballad Soirée. And:

_"Sweet William, he married a wife, 'Gentle Jenny, ' cried Rose Marie, To be the sweet comfort of his life, As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. "_

"There isn't much sense to it, " she observed. 

For a little, indignant at her disparagement of such noble fragments, hetramped silently back and forth, followed by a cloud of smoke from thecheroot. No one on land could understand the absorbing significance ofevery detail of a ship's life.... Only Gerrit, of all his family, knewthe chanteys and watches, the anxiety and beauty of landfalls--the blueFalklands or Teneriffe rising above the clouds, the hurried making andtaking of sail in the squalls of the Doldrums. 

"In India, " he told her, stopping in his measured course, "femalechildren are given to the crocodiles. "

Her mouth parted at this, her eyes became dilated, and she slipped fromthe chair. "That's perfectly awfully appalling, " she breathed. "Thelittle brown girl babies. Oh, father, " she cried, as William Ammidon cameinto the library, "what do you suppose grandfather says, that in Indiafemale children are... Crocodiles. " Words failed her. 

"What's the sense in frightening the child, father?" Williamremonstrated. "I wish you would keep those horrors for the old heathen ofthe Marine Society. "

Jeremy had a lively sense of guilt; he had been betrayed by Camilla'sconfounded airs and pretensions. He ought to be ashamed of himself, telling the girl such things. "The British Government is putting a stopto that, " he added hastily, "and to suttees--"

"What are they?" she inquired. 

"Never mind, Camilla, " her father interposed; "go up with your motherand sisters. 

"I suppose it's no good speaking to you, " William continued; "but myfamily is not a crew and this house isn't the _Two Capes_. You might makesome effort to realize you're on land. "

"I know I'm on land, William; tell that any day from a sight of you. Youcan afford to listen a little now and then about the sea. That's whereall you have came from; it's the same with near everybody in Salem. Vessels brought them and vessels kept them going; and, with the wharvesas empty as they were this afternoon, soon there won't be any Salem totalk about. "

"The tide's turned from here, " the other replied; "with the increase intonnage and the importance of time we need the railway and dockingfacility of the larger cities--Boston and New York. "

"It's running out fast enough, " Jeremy agreed; "and there's a lot goingout with it you'll never see again--like the men who put a reef inEngland in 'twelve. "

"You are always sounding the same strings; we're at peace with the worldnow, and a good thing for shipping. "

"Peace!" the elder declared hotly; "you and the Democrats may call itthat, but it's a damned swindle, with the British to windward of you andhardly a sail now drawing in your ropes. What did Edmund Burke tellParliament in 'seventy-five about our whalers, hey! Why, that from DavisStrait to the Antipodes, from the Falklands to Africa, we outdroveHolland, France and England. After the laws and bounties Congress passedin 'eighty-nine what could you see--something like a half million tonnagegained in three years or so. In the war of 'twelve your land soldierswere a pretty show, with the Capitol burning; but when it was finishedthe privateers had sunk over nine million dollars of British shipping totheir sixty thousand. The Chesapeake luggers have gone out with the tide, too. And then, by God, by God, what then: the treaty of Ghent, withEngland impressing our seamen and tying our ships up in what ports shechose under a right of search! On top of this your commissioners repealthe ship laws and the British allow you to carry only native cargoes tothe United Kingdom with a part of the customs and harbor dues off. 

"But in spite of Congress and political sharks we went out to Indiaand China direct, with _The George_ home from Calcutta in ninety-fivedays, and the East Indiamen six or seven months on the shorter run toEngland. I can show you what the London _Times_ said about that, it's inmy desk: 'Twelve years of peace, and... The shipping interest... Is halfruined... Thousands of our manufactures are seeking redemption in foreignlands. ' It goes on to tell that American seamen already controlled animportant part of the British carrying trade to the East Indies. Yet yourprecious lawmakers open our West India trade to Great Britain, but theywouldn't ask the privilege to carry a cargo from British India toLiverpool or Canada. "

"Now, father, " William put in, "you are getting excited again. It isn'tgood for you. We are not all such fools to-day as you make out. "

"Look at the masters themselves, " Jeremy continued explosively;"gentlemen like Gerrit, from Harvard University, and not lime-juicersbeating their way aft with a belaying pin. They could sail a ship withtwo-thirds the crew of a Britisher with her clumsy yellow hemp sails andbelly you could lose a dinghy in. Mind, I don't say the English aren'thandy in a ship and that they wouldn't clew up a topsail clean at theedge of hell. What we are on the seas came over from them. But webettered it, William, and they knew it; and, naturally enough, laid outto sail around us. I don't blame England, but I do our God damn--"

"Father, " the other firmly interrupted, "you are shouting as if you wereon the quarter-deck in a gale. I must insist on your quieting down;you'll burst a blood vessel. "

"Maybe I am, " Jeremy muttered; "and it wouldn't matter much if I did. When I see a nation with shipmasters who would set their royals whenothers hove too, and get there, all snarled up with shore lines andpolitical duffel, I'm nigh ready to burst something. "

"Rhoda said that you were at the Dunsacks' this afternoon; I saw Edwardin Boston yesterday. "

"I don't care if you saw the Flying Dutchman, " the other asserted, breathing stormily. 

"It's curious about the China service, " William went on; "anyone outthere for a number of years gets to look Chinese. Edward is as yellow asa lemon, but nothing like as pleasant a color. Thin, too, and nervous;hands crawling all over themselves, never still for a moment. He didn'tsay why he had left Heard and Company, and I didn't quite like to ask. Edward came on from England in the _Queen of the West, _ the Swallow TailLine. I did ask him if he were going to settle in Salem, but he couldn'tsay; there was something about a Boston house. It seems that Gerritcarried his chest and things from Canton in the _Nautilus_ as anaccommodation. "

Suddenly Jeremy felt very insecure, his body heavy and knees weak, failing. He stumbled back into the chair by the fireplace, William at hisside. "You must pay some attention to what you're told, father, " thelatter said anxiously. "How are you now?"

"I'm all right, " he declared testily, trying to brush away the dimnessfloating before his eyes. 

"Shall I help you up to bed?"

"I'll go to bed when I've a mind to, " Jeremy retorted. "I am not undercover yet by a long reach. " To establish his well-being he rose and movedto the secretary, where he got a fresh cheroot, and lighted it withslightly trembling fingers. He grumbled inarticulately, remembering hisown exploits in the carrying of sail and record runs under the bluff bowsof the Honorable John Company itself. The ebb tide, he thought, returningto William's figure and its amplification by himself. So much that hadbeen good sweeping out to sea never to return.... Gerrit long overdue. 

Once more he shook himself free of numbing dread; automatically he hadfallen back into the passage from the secretary to the hall door. He sawthat he had worn threadbare a narrow strip where his feet had so oftenpressed. It would be necessary for him to see about a fresh case ofcheroots soon, primes, too; they needn't try to put him off with thesecond quality. He was put off a great deal lately; people pretended tobe listening to him, and all the time their thoughts were somewhere else, either that or they were merely politely concealing the opinion that hewas out of date, of no importance. 

His family were always providing against his fatigue or excitement; atthe countinghouse the gravest problems, he was certain, were withheldfrom him. At the occurrence of this possibility a fresh indignationpoured through his brain. Fuming and tramping up and down he determinedthat to-morrow he would show any of the clerks who didn't attend to hiswishes or counsel that he was still senior partner of Ammidon, Ammidonand Saltonstone. 

III

The evening was surprisingly warm and still, with an intermittentfalling of rain, and the windows were open in the room where RhodaAmmidon sat regarding half dismayed her reflection in the mirror of adressing table. A few minutes before she had discovered her first grayhair. It was not only the mere assault upon her vanity, but, too, arealization far deeper--here was the stamp of time, the mark of aconsiderable progress toward the end itself. Her emotions werevarious; but, curiously enough, almost the first had been a wave ofpassionate tenderness for William and her little girls. The shock offinding that arresting sign was now giving place to a purely femininereaction. She considered for a moment the purchase of a bottle of haircoloring, then with a disdainful gesture dismissed such a temporaryand troublesome measure. 

She kept an undiminishing pride in her appearance and a relentless careand choice in the details of her dress, pleased by the knowledge thatthe attention men paid her showed no indication yet of growingperfunctory. She had been much admired both in Boston and Londonthrough her youth, and she recalled her early doubts at the prospect oflife in Salem; but she realized now that, as her years and childrenmultiplied, she was by imperceptible degrees returning to a traditionalNew England heritage. 

She was glad, however, that William's wide connections lifted him above apurely local view; William was really a splendid husband. Rhoda wasconscious of this together with a clear recognition of his faults, andquite aside from both existed her unreasoning affection. The lattervividly dominated her, shut out, on any occasion of stress, all else; butfor the most part she held him in an attitude of mildly amusedcomprehension. 

Gerrit Ammidon she hadn't seen until after her engagement to William, andshe sometimes thought of the former in connection with marriage. Gerrit, she admitted to herself, was a far more romantic figure than William; nothandsomer--William Ammidon was very good looking--but more arresting, with his hair swinging about his ears and intense blue gaze. An excitingman, she decided again, for whom one would eternally put on the loveliestclothes possible; a man to make you almost as ravishingly happy asmiserable, and, therefore, disturbing as a husband. 

At this her mind returned to her gray hair and the fact that the metalbacklog of the kitchen fire, which supplied the house with hot water, hadbeen leaking over the hearth. A feeling of melancholy possessed her atthe turning of younger visions into commonplace necessities, but shedismissed it with the shadow of a smile--it was absurd for a woman of herage to dwell on such frivolous things. Yet she still lingered to wonderif men too kept intact among their memories the radiant image of theiryouth, if they ever thought of it with tenderness and extenuation. Shedecided in the negative, convinced that men, even at the end of manyyears, never definitely lost connection with their early selves, therewas always a trace of hopefulness, of jaunty vanity--sometimes winningand sometimes merely ridiculous--attached to their decline. 

Rhoda stirred and moved to a window, gazing vaguely out into the moistblue obscurity. Sidsall, she realized, was maturing with a disconcertingrapidity. Depths were opening in the girl's being at which she, hermother, could only guess. It was exactly as if a crystal through andthrough which she had gazed had suddenly been veiled by rosy clouds. Sidsall had a charming nature, direct and unsuspicious and generouslycourageous. 

There was a sound at the door, and William entered, patently ruffled. Itwas clear that he had had another disagreement with his father. "It'sshameful how you disturb him, " she declared. 

"Look here, Rhoda, " he replied vigorously. "I won't continually be put inthe wrong. It seems as if I had no affection for the old gentleman. Ialways have the difficult thing to do, and he has been slightlycontemptuous ever since I was a boy because I didn't go to sea. The truthis--while I wouldn't think of letting him know--he's a tremendousnuisance pottering about the countingrooms with his stories ofantediluvian trading voyages. And worse is to come--these new clipperships and passages have knocked the wind out of the old slowfull-bottomed vessels. We have about determined to reorganize our fleetentirely, and are in treaty with Donald McKay for an extreme clipper typeof twelve hundred tons. 

"Of course, he's my parent; but I wonder at Saltonstone's patience. Father won't hear of the opium trade and it's turning over thousand percent profits. We are privately operating two fast topsail schooners inIndia now, but it's both inconvenient and a risk. They ought to be putright under our house flag for credit alone. It is all bound to come up, and then he'll go off like a cannon. "

"Couldn't you wait till he's dead, William?" she asked. "It won't be agreat while now. I can see that he has failed dreadfully from this worryabout Gerrit. "

"Five years will make all the difference. We are losing tea cargoes everymonth to these ships making sensational runs. I don't talk much, Rhoda, about, well--my family; but I am as upset over Gerrit as anyone else. Except for a tendency to carry too much sail there's not a bettershipmaster out of New England. Not only that ... He's my brother. It'seasy to like Gerrit; his opinions are a little wild, and an exaggeratedsense of justice gets him into absurd situations; yet his motives are thepurest possible. Perhaps that word pure describes him better than anyother, however people who didn't know might smile. As a man, Rhoda, I canassert that he is surprisingly clean-hearted. "

"That's a wonderful quality, " she agreed; "why anyone should smile isbeyond me. William, would you know that my hair is turning gray, do Ilook a lot older than I did five years ago?"

He studied her complacently. "You've hardly changed since I married you, "he asserted; "a great deal prettier than these young cramped figgers Isee about. The girls, too, are just like you--good armfuls all of them. "

The next day was flawlessly sunny, the slightly stirring air reminiscentof the sea, and the lilacs everywhere were masses of purple and whitebloom. Stepping down from her carriage on the morning round of shoppingRhoda encountered Nettie Vollar leaving one of the stores of Cheapside. 

"Why, Nettie, " she exclaimed kindly, "it's been the longest time sinceI've seen you. It is just no use asking you to the house, and it seems, with nothing to do, I never have a minute for the visits I'd like tomake. " Nettie, she thought, was a striking girl, no--woman, with herstack of black hair, dark sparkling eyes and red spot on either cheek. More fetching in profile than full face, her nose had a pert angle andher cleft chin was enticingly rounded. Later she would be too fat but nowher body was ripely perfect. 

"I don't go anywhere much, " she responded, in a voice faintly andinstinctively antagonistic. "I don't like kindness in people; but Isuppose I ought to be contented--that's all I'll probably ever get fromanybody who is a thing in the world. Mrs. Ammidon, " she hesitated, thencontinued more rapidly, her gaze lowered, "have you had any word aboutCaptain Ammidon yet? Have they given up hope of the _Nautilus_?"

"We've had no news, " Rhoda told her, and then she added her convictionthat Gerrit would return safely. 

"He was better than kind, " Nettie Vollar said. "I'm sure he liked me, Mrs. Ammidon, or he would have if everything hadn't been spoiled bygrandfather. He thinks I'm a dreadful sin, you know, a punishment onmother. But inside of me I don't feel different from others. SometimesI--I wonder that I don't actually go sinful, I've had opportunities, andbeing good hasn't offered me much, has it?"

"You are naturally a good girl, Nettie, " Rhoda answered simply; "but youmust be braver than ordinary. If we think differently from Salem still itis in Salem we must live; I keep many of my beliefs secret just as youmust control most of your feelings. "

The other responded with a hard little laugh. "Thank you, though. You aremore like Gerrit, Captain Ammidon, than Mrs. Saltonstone, his own sister. I hate her, " she declared. "I hate all the Salem women, so superior andcondescending and Christian. They always have a silly look of wonder attheir charity in speaking to me... When they do. They act as if it's justa privilege for me to be in their church. I'd rather go to a cotillion atHamilton Hall any day. "

"Of course you would, " Rhoda agreed. There seemed to be so little for herto offer or say that she was relieved when they parted. The afternoongrew really sultry, but, when the shadows had lengthened, she encounteredJeremy Ammidon wandering aimlessly about the hall and, his fine palmettohat and wanghee in her hand, urged him out to the East India MarineSociety. "It's much too beautiful a day for the house, " she insisted. 

"There's nothing remarkable about it, " he returned; "wind's too light andvariable, hardly enough to hold way on a ship. " There were the stirringstrains of a quickstep without; at the door they saw the Salem Cadets, preceded by Flag's Band, marching in columns of fours into WashingtonSquare. The white breeches with scarlet coats and brass buttons made agay showing on the green Common, the sunlight glittered on silver braidand tassels, gilt and pompons, scaled chin straps and varnished leather. 

The old man's face grew dark at the brilliant line drawn up forinspection, and he muttered a period about cursed young Whigs. "Wouldn'thave one of the scoundrels in my house if I could help it. Don'tunderstand William; he's too damned mild for my idea of a good citizen. 

"Why, it's only reasonable that a country's got to be run like a ship, from the quarter-deck. How far do you suppose a vessel would get if thecrew hung about aft and chose representatives from the port and starboardwatches and galley for a body to lay the course and make sail?"

"Please, father, " she protested, laughing. "Do go along into the sun. "She gently pushed him toward the door. Rhoda realized the fact thatWilliam was more than half Whig already. That threatened still anotherpoint of difference, of departure, from all that his father held to besacred necessities. Jeremy, like most of the older shipmasters, was abitter Federalist, an upholder of a strongly centralized autocraticgovernment. He left, grumbling, and the staccato commands of the militaryevolutions on the Common rang through the slumberous afternoon. 

She lingered in the doorway and Laurel appeared, jigging with excitement. 

"Can't I get nearer, " she begged; "there's nothing to see from here. " Hermother replied, "Ask Camilla to take you over to the Square. " Camillaappeared indifferently. "I don't know why anyone should be flustered, "she observed; "it isn't like the Fourth of July with a concert andfireworks. "

As they were going, Sidsall came out in a white tarlatan dress workedwith sprays of yellow barley, her face glowing with color, and sat onthe steps. "Positively, " her mother said, looking down on the mass ofbright chestnut hair in a chenille net, "we'll soon have to have you upin braids. "

"I wish I might, " she responded. "And Hodie is too silly--I can'tget her to lace me tightly enough. She says such things are enginesof the devil. "

"It's still a little soon for that--" Rhoda broke off as a slight erectman at the verge of middle age turned in from Pleasant Street upon them. "Roger, " she said cordially as he came quickly up the steps. He greetedher lightly and bent over Sidsall with an extended hand:

"The apple blossoms, I see, are here. "

Rhoda wondered what nonsense Roger Brevard was repeating; Sidsall's facewas hidden from view. But then Roger was always like that, his manner wasnever at a loss for the appropriate gesture. He had a great many pointsin common with her, she thought; neither had been born in Salem, and hisrightful setting was in the best metropolitan drawing-rooms. He had beenhere for a dozen years, now, in charge of the local affairs of theMongolian Marine Insurance Company; and she often wondered why, a memberof a family socially notable in New York, he continued in a city, aposition, of comparative unimportance. 

She was, she said, going back to the lawn, the glare of Pleasant Streetwas fatiguing; and she proceeded through the house with the surety of hisfollowing. But on the close-cut emerald sod there was no sign of him, andshe found a seat in a basket chair by the willow tree beyond. She waitedfor Roger with a small but growing impatience; he must be doneimmediately with whatever he might say to Sidsall, and she wished todiscuss the possibilities of a rumor that President Polk intended tovisit Salem. There would be a collation, perhaps a military ball, toarrange; Franklin Hall would be the better place for the latter. Sheheard a faint silvery echo of laughter--Sidsall. It was extremely nice, of course, in Roger Brevard to entertain her daughter, though she didn'tcare to have the child give the effect of receiving men yet. 

It was, finally, Sidsall who appeared, unaccompanied, in the drawing-roomwindow. She came forward to where Rhoda sat, her face still stirred withamusement. "Mr. Brevard went on, " she said in response to her mother'slook of inquiry. "That's rather odd, " the latter commented almostsharply. "He had only a few minutes, " the girl explained. She sank into aseat and mood of abstraction. Rhoda studied her with a veiled glance. Hers were exceptional children, they had given her scarcely an hour'sconcern; and she must see that in the unsettling period which Sidsall wasnow entering she was not spoiled. 

Perhaps Laurel entertained her more than the others. She was a verynormal little girl, not thoughtful like Janet, and without Camilla'sexaggerated poise; but she had a picturesque imagination; and hercompanionship with her grandfather was delightful. The latter addressedher quite as if she were a fellow shipmaster; and she had acquired someremarkable sea expressions, some deplorable and others enigmatic: onlyto-day, questioned about the order of her room, she had said that it was"all square by the lifts and braces. " For this her grandfather had givenher a gold piece. 

There was, she knew, an excellent school for older girls at Lausanne;and, revolving the possibility of obtaining for Sidsall some of theEuropean advantages she, Rhoda, had enjoyed, the following afternoon shedrove to the Cliffords' on Marlboro Street for a consultation with Madra, who had spent a number of seasons on Lake Leman. In a cool parlor withyellow Tibet rugs and maroon hangings she had tea while Madra Clifford, thin and imperious, with a settled ill health like white powder and apriceless Risajii shawl, conversed in a shrill key. 

"Caroline has been in bed for a week. That vulgar Dr. Fisk, with hiselbow in her bosom, tried five times to extract her tooth, and then brokeit to the roots. I hear there is a galvanic ring for rheumatism. The painin my joints is excruciating; I have an idea my bones are changing intochalk; the right knee will hardly bend. " The darkly colored shawl withits border of cypress intensified her sunken blue-traced temples and thepallid lips. She developed the subject of her indisposition, sparing nodetail; while Rhoda Ammidon, from her superabundance of well-being, halfpitied the other and was half revolted at the mind touched, too, bybodily ill. The fortune accumulated by the hardy Clifford men, floggedout of crews and stained by the blood of primitive and dull savages--theCliffords were notorious for their brutal driving--now served only tosupport Madra's debility and a horde of unscrupulous panderers to herobsession. 

"Edward Dunsack is in Salem, " she continued; "and I've heard he has themost peculiar appearance. Very probably the result of the unmentionablepractices of the Orient. Father liked the Chinese though; so many of ourshipmasters have, and not always the merchants.... What was I saying? Oh, yes, Edward Dunsack. I understand you had a distinct alarm in thatquarter, about the girl and Gerrit Ammidon. But I forgot to say how gladI am about Gerrit. You must have been horribly worried--"

"What do you mean?" Rhoda demanded. 

"Why, haven't you heard! The Nautilus was sighted. News came from Boston. She ought to be into-day, I believe. I suppose William has been tooconcerned to get you word at home. "

Rhoda Ammidon rose immediately, surprised at the force of the emotionthat blurred her eyes with tears. Gerrit was safe! Possibly they hadbeen told at Java Head now, but she must be there with Jeremy Ammidon;surprises, even as joyful as this, were a great strain on him. Neglecting the object of her visit she returned at once to PleasantStreet, urging the coachman to an undignified haste, and keeping thecarriage at the door. 

Her father-in-law was at his secretary in the library, and it was evidentthat he had heard nothing of his son's return. "Well, Rhoda, " he said, swinging about; "what a bright cheek you have--like Laurel's. "

"I feel bright, father, " she replied with a nod and smile. "After thisnone of you will be able to laugh at my predictions. You see, a woman'sfeeling is often more correct than masculine judgment. " His momentarybewilderment gave place to a painfully strained interrogation. "Yes, " shetold him, "but we are none of us surprised--Gerrit is almost in Salemharbor. " She moved near him and, with a veiled anxiety, laid her handupon his shoulder. 

"A splendid sailor, " he muttered. It seemed as if Rhoda could really hearthe dull rising pounding of his shaken heart. But his excitementsubsided, gave way to a normal concern, a flood of vain questions andpreparation to go down to the wharf. In the midst of this a message camefrom the countinghouse of Ammidon, Ammidon and Saltonstone that the_Nautilus_ would dock within an hour. 

A small crowd had already gathered on Derby Wharf when Rhoda and hercompanion made their way past the warehouses built at intervals along thewharf to the place where the _Nautilus_ would be warped in. Thewharfinger saluted them, William Ammidon joined his wife, and beyond shecould see James Saltonstone conversing with the Surveyor of the Port. 

The afternoon was serene, a faint air drew in from the sea; and with it, sweeping slowly inside Peach's Point, was the tall ship with her canvastowering gold in the western sun against the distance of sea and sky. AsRhoda watched she saw their house flag--a white field checkered inblue--fluttering from the main royal truck. 

"The royals are coming in!" Jeremy Ammidon exclaimed, gripping Rhoda'sarm. "He is lowering his top-gallant yards and hauling up the courses! Mydear, there's nothing on God's earth finer than a ship. "

The _Nautilus_ slipped along surprisingly fast. Rhoda could now see thecrew moving about and coiling the gear. 

"Look, father, there's Gerrit on the quarter-deck. "

The shipmaster, shorter than common, with broad assertive shoulders informal black, was easily recognizable. A woman with a worn flushed facepressed by Jeremy. "Andrew's there, too, " she told them, "Mr. Broadrick, the mate. "

The ship moved more slowly, under her topsails and jibs, in a soundlessprogress with the ripples falling away in water like dark green glass, liquid and still. She was now but a short distance from the end of thewharf. Mr. Broadrick was forward between the knightheads with the crewranged to the starboard and at the braces, while Gerrit Ammidon stoodwith one hand on the quarter-deck railing and the other holding a brassspeaking trumpet to his lips:

"Let go your port fore and after braces, Mr. Broadrick; brace the foreand mizzen yards sharp up, leave the main braces fast, and lay the maintopsail to the mast. As she comes to the wind let the jibs run down. " Heturned to the man at the wheel, "Helm hard a starboard. "

"Hard a starboard, sir. "

The ship answered quickly and rounded to while her weather fore andmizzen yards flew forward until they touched the starboard backstaysand the men hauled in the slack of the braces. With the main yardsquare to check her way the jibs drooped down along the stays. "Mr. Broadrick, you may let go the starboard anchor and furl sails. " Themate grasped a top maul and struck the trigger of the ring stopper aclean blow, the anchor splashed into the water with a rumbling cable, and the _Nautilus_ was home. 

Gerrit Ammidon walked hurriedly to the companionway and went below, whilethe mate continued, "Stand by to let go your topsail halliards and manthe gear. Sharper with the mizzen sheets and unbend those clew lines andgarnets... Stow the clews in a harbor furl. " At a rhythmic shout thebunts of the three topsails came up together. 

The wind had died away and the flags hung listlessly from the main truckand spanker gaff. The water of the harbor was unstirred except for theswirls at the oar blades of an incoming quarter boat and the warp payingout at her stern. The voice of the mate, the chantey of the crew heavingat the capstan bars, came to Rhoda subdued:

_"The times are hard and wages low, Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her. I guess it's time for us to go, Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her. I thought I heard the old man say, Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her. To-morrow we will get our pay ....... Leave her"_

Rhoda Ammidon discovered herself leaning forward tensely, her hands shutin excitement and emotion; and she relaxed with a happy laugh as the_Nautilus_, with her yards exactly square and rigging taut, her sides andfigurehead and ports bright with newly laid on paint, moved to the wharf. 

It seemed to her that Gerrit, descending a short stage from the deck, looked markedly older than when he had last sailed. Yet he had asurprisingly youthful air still; partly, she thought, from the manner inwhich he wore his hair, falling in a waving thick line about his cheeks. His mouth was at once fresh and severe, his face clean shaven, and hiseyes--if possible--more directly blue than ever. 

"I'll take the ship's manifest to the Collector, " he said, greeting themand impatiently waving aside the vendors after the cook's slush, theexcited women and runners and human miscellany crowding forward. "ThenJava Head. " He paused, speaking over his shoulder: "I'd be thankful ifyou would send the barouche down in an hour or so. "

Driving back, her hand on Jeremy Ammidon's knee, Rhoda wondered atGerrit's request. It was entirely unlike him to ride in the barouche;rather he had always derided it in the terms of his calling. However, unable to find a solution for her surprise, she listened to the other'scomments and speculations:

"I suppose William's first question will be about the cargo, and, ofcourse, I hope the ship has done well. But I'm just glad to have Gerritback; I am for a fact, Rhoda. "

"We all are, " she assured him, "and William as happy as any. You mustn'tbe misled by his manner, father. I hope the supper will be good andplease you. "

"Gerrit will be satisfied with anything, " he chuckled. "Probably he'sbeen out of beans even for a month. Did you notice that fore-royal mastand yard? They were rigged at sea: Gerrit carried them away. It hurts himto take in a sail. Some day I tell him he'll drag the spars out of hisship. His confounded pride will founder him. " He made these chargeslightly, with a palpable underlying pride; and, Rhoda knew, would permitno one else to criticize his son. 

She found her daughters in a state of gala excitement on the front steps. "Uncle Gerrit in the _Nautilus, _" Laurel chanted; and it was evident thatCamilla herself was thrilled. They all went up to put on holiday dress. Rhoda turned to the coachman, "Have the barouche at the head of DerbyWharf in an hour. "

Gerrit's unusual demand again puzzled her. A fantastic possibility lodgedin her brain--perhaps he was not alone. She pulled the bell rope for hermaid, changed into black moiré with cut steel bretelles, and selectedthe peacock coloring of a Peri-taus shawl. She found her husband with hisfather in the library. "I understand it's a splendid cargo, " Williamremarked. Jeremy nodded triumphantly at her, and she expressed a halfhumorous resentment at this mercenary display. "He ought to be here, " theyounger man declared, consulting his watch. As he spoke Rhoda saw thebarouche draw up before the house. She had a glimpse of a figure atGerrit Ammidon's side in extravagantly brilliant satins; there was asibilant whisper of rich materials in the hall, and the master enteredthe library with a pale set face. 

"Father, " he said, "Rhoda and William, allow me--my wife, Taou Yuen. "

Rhoda Ammidon gave an uncontrollable gasp as the Chinese woman sank in afluttering prostration of color at Jeremy's feet. He ejaculated, "Godbless me, " and started back. William's face was inscrutable, unguessedlines appeared about his severe mouth. Her own sensation was one ofincredulity touched with mounting anger and feeling of outrage. The womanrose, but only to sink again before William: she was on her knees and, supported by her hands, bent forward and touched her forehead to thefloor three times. Gerrit laughed shortly. "She was to shake your hands;we went over and over it on shipboard. But anything less than the_Kûl'on_ was too casual for her. "

She was now erect with a freer murmur of greeting to Rhoda. The latterwas instantly aware of one certainty--Chinese she might be, she was, butno less absolutely aristocratic. Her face, oval and slightly flat, wasplastered with paint on paint, but her gesture, the calm scrutiny ofenigmatic black eyes under delicately arched brows, exquisite quiethands, were all under the most admirable instinctive command. Rhoda said:

"I see that I am to welcome you for Gerrit's family. " The other, in slowlisping English replied:

"Thank you greatly. I am humbled to the earth before your goodness. "

"You will want to go to your room, " Rhoda continued mechanically. "It wasonly prepared for one, but I'll send a servant up at once. " She wasenraged at the silent stupidity of the three men and flashed a silentcommand at her husband. 

"This is a decided surprise, " the latter at last addressed his brother;"nor can I pretend that it is pleasant. " Jeremy Ammidon's gaze wanderedblankly from Gerrit to the woman, then back to his son. 

Never before had Rhoda seen such lovely clothes: A long gown with widesleeves of blue-black satin, embroidered in peach-colored flower petalsand innumerable minute sapphire and orange butterflies, a shortsleeveless jacket of sage green caught with looped red jade buttons andthreaded with silver and indigo high-soled slippers crusted and tasseledwith pearls. Her hair rose from the back in a smooth burnished loop. There were long pins of pink jade carved into blossoms, a quiveringdecoration of paper-thin gold leaves with moonstones in glisteningdrops, and a band of coral lotus buds. Pierced stone bracelets hungabout her delicate wrists, fretted crystal balls swung from the lobes ofher ears; and clasped on the ends of several fingers were long pointedfilagrees of ivory. 

"Taou Yuen, " Gerrit repeated shortly, with his challenging bright gaze. "That means Peach Garden. My wife is a Manchu, " he asserted in a morebiting tone; "a Manchu and the daughter of a noble. Thank you, Rhoda, particularly. But I have always counted on you. Will you go up with her?That is if--if my father has a room, a place, for us. "

"This will always be your home, Gerrit, " Jeremy said slowly, with thelong breath of a diver in deep waters. 

IV

In the room that had been his since early maturity Gerrit Ammidon gavean involuntary sigh of relief. Taou Yuen, his wife, was standing in themiddle of the floor, gazing about with a faint and polite smile. Her eyesrested on a yellow camphor chest--one of the set brought home by hisfather--on a severe high range of drawers made of sycamore with six legs, on her brilliant reflection in the eagle-crowned mirror above the mantel, and the sleigh bed with low heavily curved ends. 

The situation below, however brief and, on the whole, reasonablyconducted, had been surprisingly difficult. At the same time that he hadfelt no necessity to apologize for his marriage he had known that TaouYuen must surprise, yes--shock, his family. She was Chinese, to them aheathen: they would be unable to comprehend any mitigating dignity ofrank. Where they'd actually suffer, he realized, would be in theattitude of Salem, the stupid gabble, the censure and cold pity causedby his wife. 

Personally he regarded these with the contempt he felt for so many of thequalities that on shore bound the interests of everyone into a singlecommon concern. It gave him pleasure to assault the authority andimportance of such public prejudice and self-opinion; but, unavoidablyimplicating his family, at once a part of himself and Salem, he wasconscious of the fact that he had laid them all open to disagreeablemoments. He was sorry for this, and his regret, principally materializedby his father's hurt confusion, had unexpectedly cast a shadow on a sceneto which he had looked forward with a distinct sense of comedy. Where therealities were concerned he had no fear of Taou Yuen's ability to justifyherself completely. He possessed a stupendous admiration for her. 

He watched her now with the mingled understanding and mystification thatgave his life with her such a decided charm. Her gaze had fastened on themirror-stand above the drawers: she must be wondering if she would haveto paint and prepare herself for him here, openly. He knew that sheconsidered it a great impropriety for her face to be seen bare; all theelaborate processes of her morning toilet must be privately conducted. Herecognized this, but had no idea what she actually thought of the room, of his family, of the astonishing situation into which her heart hadbetrayed her. 

One and then another early hope he saw at once were vain. It had seemedto him that in America, in Salem, she might become less evidentlyChinese; not in the incongruous horror of Western clothes, but in herattitude, in a surrender to superficial customs; he had pictured her asmerging distinctively into the local scene. In China he had hoped that inthe vicinity of Washington Square and Pleasant Street she would appearless Eastern; but, beyond all doubt, here she was enormously more so. Thestrange repressed surrounding accentuated every detail of her Manchu pompand color. The frank splendor of her satins and carved jades andembroidery, her immobile striking face loaded with carmine and glintingheaddress, the flawless loveliness of hands with the pointed nailprotectors, were, in his room, infinitely dramatized. 

The other, less secure possibility that she might essentially changeperished silently. In a way his wish had been a presumption--that amember of the oldest and most subtle civilization existing would, if shewere able, adopt such comparatively crude habits of life and thought. 

She moved slowly up to the bed, examining it curiously; and again heunderstood her look of doubt--in China beds were called _kang_, orstoves, from the fact that they were more often than not a platform ofbrick with an opening beneath for hot coals. She fingered the ball fringeof the coverlet, and then turned with amazement to the soft pillow. Ahand with the stone bracelet falling back from her smooth wrist rose tothe complicated edifice of her headdress. 

"Your pillow is coming along from the ship, " he told her; "the women heredo up their hair every morning. "

She considered this with geranium lips slightly parted on flawless teeth, and nodded slowly. The westering sun striking through the windowoverlooking the Common illuminated her with a flat gold unreality. 

"I'll have a day bed brought for you, " he continued, realizing that, asthe result of fortunate chance, she understood most of what he saidwithout an actual command of the individual words. In reply she sankbefore him in the deep Manchu gesture with one knee sweeping the floor, the humility of her posture dignified by grace. He touched the crystalglobe of an earring, pinched her chin, in the half light manner by whichhe instinctively expressed his affection for her. She was calm andpleased. "Taou Yuen, " he continued, "you miss Shanghai, with the wall often gates and the river Woosung stuck full of masts. You'll never thinkSalem is a paradise like Soochow. "

"This is your city, " she replied, slowly choosing the words. "Yourancestors are here. " There was not a shade of regret in her voice ormanner. He tried once more, and as vainly as ever, to penetrate the veilof her perfect serenity. She never, it became apparent, descended fromthe most inflexible self-control; small emotions--surface gayety ofmood, curiosity, the faintest possible indication of contempt, he hadlearned to distinguish; the fact that she cared enough for him to desertevery familiar circumstance was evident; but beyond these he waspowerless to reach. 

His own emotions were hardly less obscured: the dominating feeling washis admiration for her exquisite worldly wisdom, the perfection of herbodily beauty, and the philosophy which bore her above the countlesstrivialities that destroyed the dignity of western minds. He realizedthat her paint and embroidery covered a spirit as cold and tempered asfine metal. She was totally without the social sentiment of his ownworld; but she was equally innocent of its nauseous hypocrisy, thepretensions of a piety covering commercial dishonesty, obscenity ofthought and spreading scandal. The injustice he saw practiced on shorehad always turned him with a sense of relief to the cleansing challengeof the sea; always, brought in contact with cunning and self-seeking menand heartless schemes, with women cheapened by a conviction of theindecency of life, he was in a state of hot indignation. From all thisTaou Yuen offered a complete escape. 

On the purely feminine side she was a constant delight, the last possiblerefinement, he told himself, of instinct and effect. She was incapable ofthe least vulgarity; never for an instant did she flag from the necessityof beauty, never had he seen her too weary for an adornment laborious ina hundred difficult conventions. She was, too, a continuous source ofentertainment, even as his wife she never ceased to be a spectacle; hisconsciousness of her as a being outside himself persisted. 

"I must go down and see where our things are, " he said, rising. In thehall he stopped before the tall clock whose striking was a part of hisearly memories. Below, the house seemed empty; and, instead of turning tothe front door and his purpose, he went into the drawing-room. 

The long glass doors to the garden were open, and the interior was filledwith the scent of lilacs. The room itself had always reminded him ofthem--it was pale in color, cool gilt and lavender brocade and whitepanels. Nothing had been moved or changed: the inlaid cylinder fall deskwith its garlands of painted flowers on the light waxed wood stood at theleft, the pole screen with the embroidered bouquet was before the fireblind, the girandoles, scrolled in ormolu and hung with crystal lusters, held the shimmer of golden reflections on the walls. 

He had remembered the drawing-room at Java Head as a place of enchantedperfection; in his childhood its still serenity had seemed a presentmentof what might be hoped for in heaven. The thought of the room as it wasnow, open but a little dim to the lilacs and warm afternoon, had hauntedhim as the measure of all peace and serenity in moments of extremedanger, his ship laboring in elemental catastrophes and in remote seas. Its fragrance had touched him through the miasma of Whampoa Reach, waiting for the lighters of tea to float down from Canton; standing offin the thunder squalls of the night for the morning sea breeze to takehim into Rio; over a cognac in the coffee stalls of the French market atNew Orleans, the chanteys ringing from the cotton gangs along the levees:

_"Were you ever down in Mobile Bay?Aye, aye, pump away. "_

As he left the room he saw Laurel, William's youngest child, and heimprisoned her in an arm. "You haven't asked what I've got for you in mysea chest, " he said. Gerrit was very fond of all four of the rosy-cheekedvigorous girls, and a sense of injury touched him at Laurel's reservedmanner. She studied him with a wondering uneasy concern. This he realizedwas the result of bring home Taou Yuen; and an aggravated impatience, agrowing rebellion, seized him. He wouldn't stay with his wife at JavaHead a day longer than necessary; and if anyone, in his family oroutside, showed the slightest disdain he could retaliate with hisknowledge of local pettiness, the backbiting enmities and secret lapses. 

God knew he didn't want trouble, all he asked was a reasonable liberty, the semblance, anyhow, of a courtesy toward his wife. Whatever might besaid would be of no moment to her--except in the attitude of hisfather--and Taou Yuen's indifference furnished a splendid example forhimself. He wondered why the devil he was continually putting his fingersin affairs that couldn't concern him. No one thanked him for his trouble, they considered him something of a fool--a good sailor but peculiar. Thedamned unexpected twists of his sense of the absurd, too, got him intoconstant difficulty. 

His father was standing outside the principal entrance; and, as he joinedhim on the steps, he saw two men from the _Nautilus_ carrying his ship'sdesk by the beckets let in the ends. The wind was blowing gently upPleasant Street; the men, at his gesture, lifted their burden up thesteps, between the direction of the wind and Jeremy Ammidon. The latterrose instantly into one of his dark rages:

"What do you mean, you damned packetrats--coming up a companionway to thewindward of me! I'll have no whalers' habits here. " He repeateddiscontentedly that everything on sea and land had fallen into a decline. Others followed with a number of Korean boxes, strapped and locked withcopper, and wicker baskets. A man in charge said to Gerrit Ammidon:

"The chest was left for Mr. Dunsack at the foot of Hardy Street, sir, asyou ordered. The inspector sent it off complimentary with your personalthings. " Gerrit asked, "He didn't stop to get a whiff of it then?" Theother shook his head. "Edward Dunsack asked me to ship it here andexplained that it was only junk he was bringing home, but what it amountsto is about a case of Patna opium. He's lucky. "

They turned inside, William was in the library, and Gerrit instinctivelyfollowed his father into the room. William surveyed him with a moodydiscontent. "What I can't understand, " he proceeded; "is why you call ita marriage, why you brought your woman here to us, to Rhoda and thechildren. "

"It's simple enough, " Gerrit replied; "Taou Yuen is my wife, we aremarried exactly as Rhoda and you are. She is not my woman in the senseyou mean. I won't allow that, William. "

"How can it matter what you will or will not allow when everyone'll thinkthe other? Shipmasters have had Chinese mistresses before, yes, andsmuggled them into Salem; but this conduct of yours is beyond speech. "

Gerrit Ammidon said:

"Don't carry this too far. " Anger like a hot cloud oppressed him. "I ammarried legally and, if anything, by a ceremony less preposterous thanyour own. Taou Yuen is not open to any man or woman's suspicions. I amoverwhelmingly indebted to her. "

"But she's not your race, " William Ammidon muttered; "she is a Confucianor Taoist, or some such thing. "

"You're Unitarian one day a week, and father is Congregational, Hodie'sa Methodist, and no one knows what I am, " Gerrit cried. "Good God, whatdoes all that matter! Isn't a religion a religion? Do you suppose aLord worth the name would be anything but entertained by such spitefullittle dogmas. A sincere greased nigger with his voodoo must be as goodas any of us. "

"That is too strong, Gerrit, " Jeremy objected. "You'll get nowhere cryingdown Christianity. "

"If I could find it, " the younger declared bitterly, "I'd feeldifferently. It's right enough in the Bible. ... Well, we'll go on toBoston to-morrow. "

"This is your home, " his father repeated. "Naturally William, all of ushave been disturbed; but nothing beyond that. I trust we are a loyalfamily. What you've done can't be mended with hard words. "

"She may become very fashionable, " Gerrit mockingly told hisbrother. "It'll be a blow to Camilla, " Jeremy chuckled. "Some ricemust be cooked. "

"Manchus don't live on rice, " Gerrit replied. "They don't bind thefeet either nor wear the common Chinese clothes. Rhoda willunderstand better. "

Again in his room he found his wife bending over a gorgeous heap ofsatins, bright mazarines and ornaments. "We'll go down to supper soon, "he told her. Already there were signs of her presence about the room:the chest of drawers was covered with gold and jade and green amber, painted paper fans set on ivory and tortoise shell, and lacquer fanboxes; coral hairpins, sandalwood combs, silver rouge pots and rosequartz perfume bottles with canary silk cords and tassels. On a familiartable was her pipe, wound in gilt wire, and the flowered satin tobaccocase. An old coin was hanging at the head of the bed, a charm againstevil spirits; and on a stand was the amethyst image of Kuan-Yin _putze_, the Goddess of Mercy. 

Taou Yuen sank on the floor with a little embarrassed laugh at theconfusion in which he had surprised her. "Let your attitude be grave, " hequoted from the Book of Rites with a pretended severity. Her amusementrose in a ripple of mirth. He opened his desk, rearranging the disorderbrought about by its transportation; and, when he turned, she wasprostrate in the last rays of the sun. "_O-me-to-Fuh_, " she breathed;"_O-me-to-Fuh_, " the invocation to Buddha. This at an end she announced, "Now I am grave and respectful for your family. "

Supper, Gerrit admitted to himself, promised to be a painful occasion;conversation rose sporadically and quickly died in glances ofirrepressible curiosity directed at his wife. She, on the contrary, showed no pointed interest in her surroundings; and, in her hesitatingslurred English, answered Rhoda's few questions without putting any inreturn. Camilla preserved a frozen silence; Sidsall was pleasantlyconciliating in her attitude toward the novel situation; Janet, her lipsmoving noiselessly, was rapt in amazement; and Laurel smiled, abashed atmeeting Taou Yuen's eyes. 

The recounting of his delayed return offered Gerrit a welcome relief fromthe pervading strain: "There's no tea to speak of at Shanghai, and I tookon a mixed cargo--pongees and porcelain and matting. I got camphor andcassia and seven hundred peculs of ginger; then I decided to lay a courseto Manilla for some of the cheroots father likes. The weather was fine, Ihad a good cargo, and, well--we pleasured out to Honolulu. I was ridingthe island horses and shipping oil when the schooner _Kahemameha_ arrivedfrom the coast with the news of the gold discovery in California. Everyboat in the harbor was loaded to the trucks, crowded with passengers attheir weight in ginseng, and laid for San Francisco.... Well, I wascaught with the rest. 

"Five thousand dollars was offered me to carry a gentleman and hisattendant. Two others would pay three for the same purpose. Stowage wasworth what you asked.... The _Nautilus_ made a good run; then, about aday from land, Mr. Broadrick told me that there wouldn't be a seaman onthe ship an hour after we anchored. They were all crazy with gold fever, he said. I could see, too, that they were excited; the watch hung underthe weather rail jabbering like parrots; an uglier crew of sea lawyersnever developed. 

"There was one thing to do and I did it--called them aft and gave themsome hot scouse. They'd shipped for Salem and there they must go. Ididn't anchor, but stood off--the harbor was crowded with desertedvessels like some hell for ships--and sent the jolly boat in with thepassengers and a couple of men. They didn't come back, you may be sure. The consignment for San Francisco I carried out that evening, for I madesail at once. "

"You had a pretty time getting a way on her, " Jeremy Ammidon remarked. 

"I did, " Gerrit acknowledged shortly. "The second mate's ear was takenloose by a belaying pin that flew out of the dark like a gull. Mr. Broadrick had a bad minute in the port forecastle after he had orderedall hands on deck a third time. The fine weather left us, though, andthat kept the crew busy; we carried away the fore-royal mast and yardbefore we were within a thousand miles of the latitude of the Horn. Thathit us like a cannon ball of ice. You know what it is at its worst, " hetold his father; "weeks of snow and hail and fog and gales; and not foranything can you keep an easting. God knows how a ship lives through theseas; but she does, she does, and you lose the Magellan clouds astern. "

The old man nodded. 

Gerrit was relieved, however, when supper ended and his wife formallydeparted for her room. Immediately slipping a hand inside Rhoda's arm heconducted her to the drawing-room. "I'd like you to know more about it, "he said directly. 

"It was very extraordinary. A Lú Kikwáng was a high official of theCanton Customs, and when Shanghai was declared an open port in forty-twothey made him hoppo there. I remembered him at Canton, a dignified oldduck with eighty or a hundred servants to keep anyone from possiblyspeaking to him of business, but there had been some trouble aboutforeign vessels selling saltpeter illegally and--he knew some English--wehad quite a friendly little consultation. Yet it hadn't prepared me forhis coming off to the _Nautilus_ at Shanghai with a linguist and an airof the greatest mystery. His manner was beautiful, of course, absolutelytranquil and that made what they said, what he hoped, seem even wilderthan it was. 

"His son, it appeared, had married and was accidentally drowned in theGreat Canal hardly a month after the ceremony. His widow belonged, then, to the husband's family, and from that moment her father-in-law had hadnothing but bad luck. He had been robbed, his best stallion died, therehad been a flood in his tea which not only spoiled the crop but filledthe ground with silt--it was impossible to relate his calamities. Heconsulted a necromancer at last and learned that it was all caused by thepresence of Taou Yuen. 

"This, you see, made the difficulty, as it's a frightful disgrace toreturn a married daughter to her own father's home, and Lú had grown veryfond of her. She was extremely clever and virtuous, he said. The otherthing was to kill her or force her to commit suicide. He told me verycalmly that he would like to avoid this. 

"Then, in the linguist's most flowery manner, they went on with what LúKikwáng proposed. He had recognized that I was a man of 'superiorpropriety' and he wondered if I would take Taou Yuen away to America withme. Very secretly though--there would be an uproar if it were known thata Manchu woman had been married to a foreigner. I could see her first inhis garden without her knowing anything about it. 

"It's needless to tell you that I went with them that afternoon. Ameeting was arranged for the next day--" he broke off, sitting forwardwith elbows on knees, gazing fixedly at his clasped hands. 

"You make that very clear, Gerrit, " his sister-in-law replied; "I nowunderstand the past almost as well as yourself; but it's the future I'min doubt about. I saw immediately that your wife was not an ordinarywoman; it would be much easier if she were. Certainly you don't intend tostay here, at Java Head; but that is immaterial. Wherever you go inAmerica it will not be suitable for her. She'll be no more at home withyour friends than you with hers. I feel terribly sad about it, Gerrit;you were as selfish as only a man can be. "

"You are unjust, Rhoda, " he protested. "Taou Yuen was willing to come. She had read about other countries and saw a great deal of the Englishwife of a rich Dutch factor at Shanghai; as Lú Kikwáng said, she'swonderfully intelligent. I think she is happy, too. "

"Rubbish! Of course she loves you; I am not talking about that. How willshe get along while you are away on your long voyages? She couldn'tpossibly live in the cabin of a ship, and do you suppose she'd becontented in Salem with you absent for a year!"

"We have as many chances of success as any other marriage, " he asserted. "The whole business is foolish enough. "

"That opinion might do for a single shipmaster, with only a month or twoout of the year on land. When you were free, Gerrit, your impatience withconvention was refreshing and possible. But can't you see that you havegiven up your liberty! You have tied your hands. However loudly you maycry out against society now you are a part of us, foolish or not. You'llfind that your wife has anchored you in Salem, Boston or Singapore, nomatter where you go: people will reach and hurt you through her. 

"She is very gorgeous and placid, superior on the surface; but the heart, Gerrit--that isn't made of jade and ivory and silk. "

"I'll bring down your presents to-morrow, " he told her, avoiding anyfurther present discussion of his marriage. "Has father failed, do youthink? His tempers are vigorous as ever. "

"He seems baggier about the eyes and throat. He is just as quick, but itexhausts him more. Things would be much better if he were only content tolet William manage at the countinghouse. Times are shifting so quicklywith these new clipper ships and direct passages and political changes. "

"There's no longer any doubt about the clippers, " Gerrit declared; "theCalifornia gold rush will attend to that. "

In his room he found Taou Yuen, in soft white silk worked with bambooleaves, on the day bed, smoking. She rose immediately as he entered; and, coming close to him, ran her cool fingers through his hair. He stoodgazing out at the dim oil flares that marked the confines of WashingtonSquare, considering all that Rhoda had said. Strangely enough it led histhoughts away from his wife; they reverted to Nettie Vollar. 

He had been, he realized, very nearly in love with her: what he meant bythat inaccurate term was that if the affair had continued a little longerhe would have insisted on marrying her. Nettie was not indifferent tohim. An impersonal feeling had attracted him to her--a resentment of hertreatment by the larger part of Salem, particularly the obliqueadmiration of the men. His supersensitiveness to any form of injusticehad driven him into the protest of calling and accompanying her, with anexaggerated politeness, about the streets. It had not been difficult; shewas warm-blooded, luxurious, a very vivid woman. Gerrit, however, hadmade a point of repressing any response to that aspect of theirintercourse--the sheerest necessity for the preservation of his disdain. 

She had cried on his shoulder, in his arms, practically; he had acted inthe purely fraternal manner. But the thing was reaching a naturalconclusion when her grandfather, Barzil Dunsack, had interfered with hisunsupportably frank accusations and command. The _Nautilus_ had beenready for sea, and his, Gerrit's, imperious resentment had carried himout of the Dunsacks' house--to Shanghai and Taou Yuen--without anotherword to Nettie. 

How strangely life progressed, without chart or intelligent observationsor papers! He heard the tap of his wife's pipe; there was a faintsweetish odor of drugged tobacco and the scent of cloves in which shesaturated herself. Outside was Salem, dim and without perceptiblemovement; the clock in the hall struck ten. Taou Yuen didn't approach himagain nor speak; her perceptions were wonderfully acute. 

The sense of loneliness that sometimes overtook him on shore deepened, afeeling of impotence, as if he had suddenly waked, lost and helpless, inan unfamiliar planet. There was the soft whisper of his wife's passageacross the room. In the lamplight the paint on her cheeks made startlingunnatural patches of--paint. The reflections slid over the liquid blackmass of her hair, died in the lustrous creamy folds of her garment. Shewas at once grotesque and impressive, like a figure in a Chinesepantomime watched from the western auditorium of his inheritance. Hisfondness for her, his admiration, had not lessened. He surveyed hisposition, the presence here, in his room at Java Head, of Taou Yuen, withamazement; all the small culminating episodes lost, the result was beyondcredence. His thoughts returned to Rhoda's accusation of selfishness, thedisaster implied in her pity for his wife. He tried again to analyze hismarriage, discover whatever justification, security, it possessed. Washis admiration for Taou Yuen sufficient provision for his part of theirfuture together? It was founded largely on her superiority to the worldhe had known; and here it was necessary for him to convince himself thathis wedding had not been merely the result of romantic accident. He knewthat the sensual had had almost no part in it, it had been mental; an actof pity crystallizing his revolt against what he felt to be the impotenceof "Christian" ethics. Yet this was not sufficient; for he, like Rhoda, had found under his wife's immobility the flux of immemorial woman. 

No, it wasn't enough; but more existed, he was certain of that. No onecould expect him, now, to experience the thrill of idealized passion thatwas the sole property of youth. What feeling he had had for Nettie--hewas obliged to return to her from the fact that it was the only possiblecomparison--had come from very much the same source as the other. Theold impersonal motives!

The danger, Rhoda pointed out, had been admitted when his marriage madeimpossible the continuation of that aloof position. He doubted that itcould change him so utterly. The thought of the entertainment his wifewould afford him in Salem expanded. He regretted that the best, thecalling and comments of the women, was necessarily lost to him, but TaouYuen would repeat a great deal: she, too, had a sly sense of theridiculous. He hoped that his sister-in-law didn't suppose her helpless;the impenetrable Manchu control gave her a pitiless advantage over anyless absolute civilization. In the darkness before sleep the heavy exoticscents in the room oppressed him strangely. 

He rose early, and quietly dressing went out into the garden: buds onthe June roses against the high blank fence on the street were swellinginto visible crimson; there were the stamping of horses' feet on thecobbles of the stable inclosure, the heavy breathing and admonitions ofthe coachman wielding a currycomb. The sunlight streamed down throughpale green willow and tall lilac bushes, through the octagonal latticedsummerhouse and across the vivid sod to the drawing-room door. Gerritturned, and entered the farther yard, where his father was inspecting thepear trees. 

"The _Nautilus_ will need new copper sheathing, " Gerrit said: "she'spretty well stripped forward. "

"Take her around to the Salem Marine Railway at the foot of EnglishStreet. A fine ship, Gerrit, with a proper hull. I tell you they'll neverimprove on the French lines. "

"She won't go into the wind with a clipper, " he admitted; "but I'll sailher on a fair breeze with anything afloat. "

"If you come to that, " his father asserted; "nothing handsomer willever be seen than an East India-man in the northeast trades with thecaptain on the quarter-deck in a cocked hat and sword, the shoals offlying fish and albacore skittering about a transom as high and carvedand gilded as a church, the royal pennant at the mainmast head. Maybeit would be the _Earl of Balcarras_ with her cannons shining and themidshipmen running about. "

"Yes, " the younger man returned, "and taking in her light sails atsunset, dropping astern like an island. The John Company's ruiningBritish shipping. "

Jeremy Ammidon muttered one of his favorite pessimistic complaints. "Whatdid you say her name was?" he demanded abruptly. 

"Taou Yuen. "

"Taou Yuen Ammidon, " the elder pronounced experimentally. "It doesn'tsound right, the two won't go together. "

"But they have, " Gerrit declared. He thought impatiently that he mustlisten to a repetition of Rhoda's assertions. 

"I don't know much about 'em, " Jeremy proceeded. "All I saw, when I wasyounger, was the little singing-girls playing mora and wailing over theirinfernal three-stringed fiddles something about the moon and a bowl ofwater lilies. "

Taou Yuen did not come down to breakfast, and Gerrit stayed away fromtheir room until her toilet must be finished. It was Sunday; and with thecustomary preparation for church under way William said:

"I suppose you will go down to the ship?"

The hidden question, the purpose of the inquiry, at once stirred intobeing all Gerrit's perversity. "No, " he replied carelessly; "we'll gowith you this morning. "

"That's unheard of, " William exclaimed heatedly; "a woman in all herpaint and perfume and outrageous clothes in North Church, with--with myfamily! I won't have it, do you understand. "

"No worse than what you see there every week, " Gerrit retorted calmly;"corsets and feathers and female gimcracks. Plenty of rouge and colognetoo. It will give them something new to stare at and whisper about. "

William Ammidon choked on his anger, and his wife laid a gloved hand onhis arm. "You must make up your mind to it, " she told him. "It can't hurtanyone. She is Gerrit's wife, you see. "

Above, the shipmaster said to Taou Yuen: "We are going to church with thefamily. " He surveyed her clothes with a faint glimmer of amusement. Shehad, he saw, made herself especially resplendent as a Manchu. The longgown was straw-colored satin with black bats--a symbol ofhappiness--whirling on thickly embroidered silver clouds, over which shewore a sleeve coat fastened with white jade and glittering with spanglesof beaten copper. Her slippers were pale rose, and fresh apple blossoms, which she had had brought from the yard, made a headdress fixed withlong silver and dull red ivory pins. 

She smiled obediently at his announcement, and, with a fan of peacocksilks and betel nuts in a pouch like a tea rose hanging by a cord from ajade button, she signified her readiness to proceed. 

William had gone on foot with his girls, Jeremy was seldom in church, andRhoda, Taou Yuen beside her with Gerrit facing them, followed in thebarouche. It seemed to the latter that they were almost immediately atthe door of North Church. The leisurely congregation filling the walkstiffened in incredulous amazement as Gerrit handed his wife to thepavement. Rhoda went promptly forward, nodding in response to countlessstupefied greetings; while Gerrit Ammidon moved on at Taou Yuen's side. 

Prepared, he restrained the latter from a prostration in the hall of thechurch. Nothing had changed: the umbrella trough still bore the numbersof the pews, the stair wound gloomily up to the organ loft. He againfound the subdued interior, the maroon upholstery, the flat Gothicsquares of the ceiling and dark red stone walls, a place of reposefulcharm. The Ammidons had two of the box pews against the right wall: hisbrother and children were in the second, and, inside the other smallinclosure, he shut the gate and took his place on a contracted cornerbench. Taou Yuen sat with Rhoda against the back of the pew. The former, blazing like a gorgeous flower on the shadowed surface of a pool, smiledserenely at him. 

He could hear the hum of subdued comment running like ignited powderthrough the church, familiar faces turned blankly toward him or nodded inpatent confusion. The men, he noted, expressed a single rigidcondemnation. The women, in crisp light dresses and ribboned bonnets, were franker in their curiosity. Taou Yuen was a loadstone for theirglances. As the service progressed her face grew expressionless. Frettedsandalwood bracelets drooped over her folded hands, and miniature dragonflies quivered on the gold wires of her earrings; the sharp perfumes ofthe East drifted out and mingled with the Western scents of extracts andpowders. He only saw that she was politely chewing betel nut. It wasn't, he told himself, reverting to his critical attitude toward Salem, that hewas lacking in charity toward his neighbors, or that he felt anysuperiority; but the quality that signally roused his antagonism wasprecisely the men's present aspect of heavy censure and boundlesspropriety, their stolid attitude of justifying the spiritual consummationpromised by the sermon and hymns. 

The long night watches, the anxiety of the sea, the profound mysteries ofthe wheeling stars and the silence of the ocean at dawns, had given him, he dimly realized, an inarticulate reverence for the supreme mystery ofcreation. He was unable to put it into words or facile prayer but it wasthe guarded foundation of most that he was, and it bred in him a contemptfor lesser signs. The religion of his birth, the faith of Taou Yuen, thefetishism of the Zanzibar Coast, he had regarded as equally important, orfutile--the mere wash of the immensity of beauty, the inexorable destiny, that had seemed to breathe on him alone at the stern of his ship. 

He lost himself now in the keenness of his remembered emotion: thechurch faded into a far horizon, he felt the slight heave of the shipand heard the creaking of the wheel as the steersman shifted his hands;from aloft came the faint slapping of the bunt lines on rigid canvas, the loose hemp slippers of the crew sounded across the deck, the waterwhispered alongside, the ship's bell was struck and repeated in adiminished note on the topgallant forecastle. The morning rose frombelow the edge of the sea and the pure air freshened.... His thoughtswere recalled to the present by the dogmatic insistence of theclergyman's voice, promising heaven, threatening hell. His gaze restedon the chalky debility of Madra Clifford. 

The service over, the aisle past the Ammidon pews was filled with aslow-moving inquisitive throng. Rhoda chose to wait until the greaterpart was past, and then she followed with the unmoved Taou Yuen andGerrit. "This is my brother's wife, " he heard the former say. "Mrs. Saltonstone, Gerrit's sister, Mrs. Clifford and Miss Vermeil. Yes... FromShanghai. Overdue. We were worried, of course. " Taou Yuen smiledvigorously and flapped the vivid fan. Against her brilliant colors, thecarved jade and embroideries, silver and apple blossoms, the other womenlooked colorless in wide book muslin and barége, with short veils oftulle illusion hanging from bonnets of rice straw and glazed crêpe. Palpably shocked by her Oriental face masked in paint, her Chinese"heathen" origin, yet they fingered the amazing needlework and wonderedover the weight of her satins. 

The men he knew gave him, for the most part, a curt greeting. Theyglanced more covertly at his wife; he understood exactly what thoughtsbrought out this condemnation soiled by private speculation; and hisdisdain mounted at their sleek backs and glossy tile, hats supported onstiffly bent arms. 

After dinner he walked through the warm sunny emptiness of the afternoonto Derby Wharf and the _Nautilus_. Standing on the wharf, smoking acheroot, he leaned back upon his cane, studying the ship with a gaze thatmissed no detail. There was not a sound from the water; across the harborPeach's Point seemed about to dissolve in a faint green haze; a strongscent of mingled spices came from the warehouses. There was the splash ofoars in the Basin beyond, and the more distant peal of a church bell. 

At the sound of footfalls behind him he turned and saw Nettie Vollar andher uncle, Edward Dunsack. A dark color rose in the girl's cheek, and herhand pulled involuntarily at Dunsack's arm, as if she wished to retreat. Gerrit thought that she had aged since he had latest met her: Nettie'smouth, with its full, slightly drooping lower lip, had lost something ofits fresh arch; her eyes, though they still preserved their blacksparkle, were plainly resentful. Edward Dunsack, medium tall but thinalmost to emaciation, had a riven sallow face with close-cut silvery hairand agate-brown eyes with contracted pupils. 

"Well, Nettie, " Gerrit said, moving forward promptly, "it's pleasant tosee you again. " Her hand was cold and still. "Dunsack, too. "

"I am obliged to you for my chest, " the latter told him, unmoved byGerrit's quizzical gaze. 

"Glad to do it for you, " the other replied; "it came ashore with mypersonal things, and so, perhaps, saved you something. "

"Perhaps, " Dunsack agreed levelly. 

Looking down at the cob filling of the wharf, Nettie Vollar said, "Youcame home married, I hear, and to a Chinese lady. "

Gerrit assented. "You'll certainly know her, and like her, too. TaouYuen is very wise and without the prejudices--" he stopped, conscious ofthe stupidity of his attempted kindness. Nettie looked up defiantly, biting her lip--a familiar trick, he recalled. Dunsack interposed:

"You will find that the Chinese have none of your little sympathetictricks. No foreigner could ever grasp the depth of their indifference towhat you might call humanity. They are born wise, as you say, but weary. I suppose your wife plays the guitar skillfully and sings the SoochowLove Song. "

Gerrit Ammidon studied him with somber eyes and a gathering temper: itwas, however, impossible to decide whether the implication wasdeliberately insulting. He wouldn't have any Canton clerk, probablysaturated with opium, insinuate that his affair was on the plane ofthat of a drunken sailor! "My wife, " he said deliberately, "is aManchu lady. You may know that they don't learn dialect songs norornament tea houses. "

"Very remarkable, " Dunsack returned imperturbably. "We never see them. How did you manage a go-between, and did you send the hour of your birthto the Calculator of Destinies? Then there is so much to remember in aChinese wedding--the catties of tea and four silver ingots, the earringsand red and green silk and Tao priest to consult the gods. " Gerrit heardthis with a frowning countenance. If Nettie were not there he would putDunsack forward with the hypothetical crew to which he belonged. He feltas sorry for Nettie, he discovered, as ever. It moved him to see hervivacity of life, her appealingly warm color, slowly dulled by Salem andthe adventitious circumstance of her birth. What a dreary existence sheled in the harsh atmosphere of her grandfather and the solemn house onHardy Street! At one time he had fancied that he might change it... Whennow here was Taou Yuen, detached and superior, waiting in his room atJava Head. 

"I stopped for a moment to look at the ship, " he said, with the trace ofan ungracious bow, "and must get back. " The sunlight flung a warm motedveil over Nettie Vollar. She gave him a startled uncalculated glance ofalmost desperate appeal and his heart responded with a quickened thud. Edward Dunsack was sallow and enigmatic, with thin pinched lips. 

V

"The stupid bruiser, " Edward Dunsack declared in a thin bitterness thatstartled the girl at his side. "The low sea bully!" He was gazing at theresolute back of Captain Ammidon. A surprising hatred filled him at thememory of the other's intolerant gaze, the careless contempt of hiswords. He thought, oddly enough, of the delicate and ingenious torturespracticed on offenders in China; the pleasant mental picture followed ofAmmidon bowed in a wooden collar, of Gerrit Ammidon bambooed, sliced, slowly choking.... With an intense sense of horror he caught himselfdwelling on these dripping visions. His hands clasped rigidly, a sweatstood out on his brow, in a realization that was at once dread and aself-loathing. 

About him lay the tranquil Salem water, the still wharves, the familiarroofs and green tree tops. This wasn't Canton, he told himself, butAmerica: there was Nettie; only a few streets away was his father'shouse, his own home, all solid and safe and reassuring. China was athing of the past, its insidious secret hold broken. It was now only adream of evil fascination from which he had waked to the reality, thesaving substance, of Derby Wharf. "It's his domineering manner, " heexplained the outburst to Nettie; "all shipmasters have it--as if theworld were a vessel they damned from a quarter-deck in the sky. I nevercould put up with them. "

"He is very kind, really, " she replied, looking away over the harbor. "Itis so queer--marrying a Chinese woman like that. How will he ever getalong with her or be happy?"

"He won't, " Edward Dunsack asserted. "Leave that to time. " He studied herattentively. "Was it anything to you?" he asked. 

"It might have been, " she acknowledged listlessly, her gaze still on thehorizon. "He came to see me two or three times, quite differently fromother nice men, and took me to a concert at the Philharmonic Society. Hewas getting to like me, I could tell that, when grandfather interfered--"

"I see, " Dunsack interrupted, "with the immorality of the supermoral. "

"Whatever it was he was past bearing. No one could blame Gerrit forgetting into a fury. The next day I stood almost in this spot, it waslate afternoon too, and watched the _Nautilus_ sail away. All the canvaswas set and I could see her for a long time. When the last trace hadgone it seemed to me that my life had sunk too ... Out there. "

"The old man's a fool, " he said bluntly of his father. "How do yousuppose he got hold of a Manchu?" he shifted his thought, addressing thestillness about them rather than his companion. "Don't imagine for aminute that you are superior to her, " he told Nettie more directly. "There is nothing more remarkable. They must be gorgeous, " a faint colorstained his long cheeks. "What incredible luck, " he murmured. 

He was thinking avidly of the women of China--the little gay girls liketoys, the momentary glimpses of enameled faces in hurrying red-floweredsedan chairs, faces of ivory stained with carmine, in gold-crustedheaddresses. A sudden impatience at Nettie Vollar's obvious person andclothes expanded to a detestation of an atmosphere he had but a minute orso before welcomed as an escape from something infinitely worse thandeath. Now it seemed impossible to spend a life in Salem. It would havebeen better, when he had been released by Heard and Company, to havetaken the position open in the Dutch Hong. 

He was in a continual state of such vacillation, as if he were the seatof two separate and antagonistic personalities; rather, he changed thefigure, in him the East struggled with the West. It was necessary for thelatter to triumph. The difficulty lay in the fact that the first wasrepresented by an actual circumstance while the other was only a dimapprehension, a weakened allegiance to ties never strong. 

He cursed the extraordinary chance that, against every probability, hadbrought the chest of opium safely to him here. Its purchase had been theresult of habit evading his will, he had despatched it--in that seesawingcontest--by a precarious route, half hoping that it would be lost orseized; and, when he had seen the chest carried down Hardy Street to hisdoor, a species of terror had fastened upon him, a premonition of an evilspirit flickering above him in a turning of oily smoke. Why hadn't hepitched the thing into the water at the foot of their yard! There wastime still: he would take the balls of opium and dispose of themsecretly. A sudden energy, a renewed sense of strength, flooded him. Thisdistaste for Nettie changed into a pity at the ill luck that had followedher: she didn't deserve it. Generous emotions expanded his heart. Hedreamed of taking hold of his father's small commerce in rum and sugarwith the West Indies and turning it into a concern as rich and powerfulas Ammidon, Ammidon and Saltonstone. 

Why not!

They, too, would have a big white house on Washington Square or ChestnutStreet, with servants--Chinese servants--and horses and great shipssailing in, laden with the East. Why not indeed! He, Edward Dunsack, hadmore brains than Jeremy Ammidon, that stiff old man with a face the colorof a damask plum. His niece would go to all the balls at Franklin andHamilton Halls, the injustice of her position overcome by an impressivelyincreasing fortune. Abstractly he patted her shoulder with a hand as longand gaunt and yellow as his face. All this would come as a result ofthrowing the opium into the harbor. It was as good as accomplished. 

In the face of his prospective well-being he felt already the equal ofanyone in Salem. If Gerrit Ammidon had married a Manchu lady it was hisprivilege, no, duty, to call and put his experience in things Chinese attheir command. She would speak only a little if any English; no one hereunderstood the preparation of her food--her delicate necessity for dishesnot the property of an entire household; a hundred such details of whichthe infinitely cruder West must be ignorant. He thought complacently thathe would understand her better than anyone else in Salem, in Boston, inAmerica; far better than her husband. She would without doubt learn todepend on him: they would laugh together at the manners and people aboutthem. Ammidon would be away for long periods on the China service. --

His dreams broke off with a sardonic laugh, a repetition of the tone inwhich he had objurgated the ship-master. Such visions were the propertyof youth, and he was forty-two, forty-two and nothing more than adiscredited clerk who had fled across the world from a shadow. But he wasright--he had seen white men who had caught the breath of China acceptingjust such opportunities as the one offered to him after his dismissal byAugustine Heard. At the Dutch Hong he'd be expected to talk about hislate employer. Such situations, he had realized in a rarely illuminatingflash, were only temporary, a descending flight. 

These men resembled the fate of, say, a brig sailing into the ChinaSea in all the perfection of order of the British Marine: at, perhaps, Hong Kong, sold to a native firm, she would be refitted under anextravagant flag, and slowly the order would depart until, in aslovenly tangle of rigging and defilement, she'd be seen yawing onsecret and nauseous errands. 

A homely chime of bells was repeated from the town; a ship's faststrained resinously with the changing tide. "It will be getting on towardsupper, " Nettie told him. They walked slowly from the wharf, turnedsilently into Derby Street and Hardy on their way home. Beyond the innerfence of the garden the thick uneven sod reaching to the water was darkand cool against the luminous flush of evening. A sound of frying andheavy odor came from the kitchen, and Kate Vollar's voice informed themthat the meal was ready. 

Barzil Dunsack bowed his head over the table and pronounced a grace instartlingly resonant tones, the reverent humility of his words oddlyemphasized by a sort of angry impatience. It seemed as if he at oncesubjected himself to his God and expressed a certain dissatisfaction withHis forbearance. Edward Dunsack was plunged in the thought of theresolution he intended to fulfill that evening. 

The throwing away of the opium had lost a part of its symbolic meaning. It now seemed even a little rash when he could find an immediate highlyprofitable market--the opium had cost him seven hundred dollars in China. But he must, he realized, be firm. Afterwards, in his room facing awayfrom the street over darkening yards and gables and foliage, he stoodgazing at the chest of mango wood that held the drug. Edward Dunsackunlocked and lifted the lid. On the tray before him were twenty balls, each the size of his two fists, wrapped in a hard skin of poppy leaves, and there was a similar number beneath. It was obvious that he couldn'tcarry a tray through the house, and he took out two balls, after which hesecured the remainder. 

He walked quickly down the stair and through the close turning of thelower hall that led through a side door to the yard. A pale rectangle oflamplight fell from the sitting room window over a brick path and groundtramped bare of grass; a clinking of dishes sounded in the kitchen. Thesod was damp, and perhaps eight feet below the wooden buttress of theland the water showed impenetrably black. 

Safely there he passed a tense hand over a brow suddenly wet; he wasshaking as if in the grip of a chill. His condition needed drasticmeasures. The cold heavy opium gave out its tantalizing odor. In a minuteit would be disposed of and he would go for more. He calculated that thisnecessitated twenty trips at the present rate--a bag might serve hispurpose better. He raised an arm with an opium ball, but his handremained suspended in air. An inarticulate protest seized him, asuffocating sense of impending loss. He would never be able to get Patnaopium here; it was a valuable medical property. His nerves shook at thethought of its delights. Then as if without his volition and againstevery intention, his arm described a short arc and his hand was empty. There was the impact of a solid object striking the water, a faint rippleon the motionless expanse, and then absolute silence. 

He was aghast at his wanton act, the irreparable waste of a precioussubstance, and cursed in a low audible Cantonese. Whose concern was it ifhe did, very occasionally, smoke a "pistol"? How could it possiblymatter! The dreams about a great foreign commerce, a white house like theAmmidons', were futile; it was too late. He could expect nothing fromlife but the unspeakable monotony of his father's dwelling, the bareoffice. He had worked hard, been as full of splendid early resolutions asanyone, and he wasn't blamable if chance balked his ambition. A soul wasnothing more than a twisting leaf in the wind of fate. There remainedonly to take what escape was offered--golden visions, luxury, beautybeyond all earth. 

His contrary determination seemed of less actuality than the imaginedechoing of the splash that still hung in his brain. It was a thing faraway, belonging to another time, another man; like the memory of a periodof charming ignorance. The thought of it wove a strand of melancholy intohis present mature realization like the delicate scent of blossomingtrees borne to him on the evening air, barely perceptible and then lostin the pungency of the opium. The latter became, mystically, all China, the irresistible fascination that had gradually possessed hisimagination, dulling the associations of his heredity and birth, callinghim further and further into its secretive heart. 

He returned to his room, where he put back the second ball in the tray ofits chest. An extraordinary weariness hung over him, there was a senseof leaden weight in his arms and feet. Flashes of a different perceptionpierced his apathy; a voice, seemingly outside his being, whispered ofdanger, evil and danger.... A twisting leaf, he told himself again withhis deep fatalism. 

The memory of Gerrit Ammidon's crisp blue gaze, his vigorous gestures andspeech, became an intolerable affront, representing the far lost point ofhis own departure. His contrary feelings met and grappled in his mind;but in the end the past, Salem, was always defeated, weaker, more faintlyperceived. In a great many essentials, he told himself, he had becomeChinese in sympathy and fiber. 

The lamp threw a smooth gleam over the mango wood chest, and he bent, turning the key in the ornamental brass lock. He could reconsider thedisposal of the opium to-morrow; there was no hurry; he had no intentionof becoming a victim to the drug. That would be an inconceivablestupidity, the negation of all the philosophy he had gained. Veryoccasionally--

His thoughts swung to the surprising fact of Ammidon's Chinese wife: if, as he had first suspected, she were a common woman of the port who hadmade a fool of the dull sailor he perceived the making of a veryentertaining comedy. There would be the keenest irony in exposing her tohimself before the complacent ignorance of her husband. He knew suchwomen: convicted in Chinese, perhaps before the entire Ammidon family, not a muscle of her face would betray surprise or concern. She might tryto murder him, very ingeniously, but never descend to the intrigue, thelies, of a Western woman placed in the same position. She'd stoicallyaccept the situation. These visions ran rapidly, vividly, through hisbrain; he was accustomed to them; a greater part of his waking life wasfilled with such pictures, infinitely more alluring, persuasive, than thedisappointing actuality. He got out of his clothes, and, in a loose gownof black silk, sat at his open window, his chin sunk in the palm of ahand, his face set against the night. 

The next morning, at the breakfast table, he listened with a fleeringmouth to his father's long dogmatic grace before meat. His sister satopposite their parent, her gaze lowered in a perpetual amazement, herentire person stamped with a stupid humility. There was nothing humble, however, in Nettie; the crisp French coloring positively crackled with anelectric energy; her mouth was set in a rebellious red blot. Studyingher, Edward Dunsack saw that she was prettier than he had first realizedon his return to Salem. He speculated over the story she had told himyesterday about Gerrit Ammidon's attachment. What an incredible idiottheir father had been: Edward would have relished Gerrit as abrother-in-law; good would have come to them all from such a connection. 

If he had been in America at the time no such error would have beenpermitted. With his counsel Nettie would have caught Ammidon beyond anyescape. He wondered if the girl had actually cared for the shipmaster orif the affair had been nothing more than a sop to her wounded pride andisolation. In a way beyond his present understanding this seemed to beconsiderably important. If she had loved him no one could predict whather attitude might be in any future development of their contact; but ifher pride only had been involved, injured, she might readily be aninstrument for his own obscure purposes. 

The office where Barzil Dunsack conducted the limited affairs of hisWest India trading was a small one-room building back of the dwelling. There was a high desk at which a clerk stood, or balanced on along-legged stool, a more formal secretary against the length of thewall, with a careful model of a full ship, the spars and standingrigging slack and the whole gray with dust, a built-in cupboardopposite, a dilapidated chair or so and a ten-plate iron stove for wood. A window looked out across the grass to the harbor and another openedblankly against a board fence. 

There Edward Dunsack made a column of entries in a script fine andregular but occasionally showing an uncontrollably tremulous line. Hewas conscious of this tendency, growing through the past year; and hesurveyed his writing with a feeling of angry dismay. Try as he might, with a frowning concentration, to pen the words and numerals firmly, presently his attention would slip, his hand waver ever so slightly, anda sudden stricken appearance of old age fasten on the characters.... Byheaven, to-night he'd throw all that stinking stuff away!

Outside the day was immaculate, the expanse of the water was likecelestial silk, such sails as he saw resembled white clouds. The earlymorning bird song had subsided, but a persistent robin was whistling fromthe grass by the open door. The curd-like petals of a magnolia wereslowly shifting obliquely to the ground, he could hear the stir of DerbyStreet. He was inexpressibly weary of the struggle always racking hisbeing: it seemed to him that in the midst of a serene world he wastormented by some inimicable and fatal power. 

He fastened his thoughts on commonplace happier objects, on the pageunder his hand, the entries of Medford rum and sugar cane and molasses, and the infinitely larger affairs of Ammidon, Ammidon and Saltonstone. There was no reason why he shouldn't call on Jeremy Ammidon's family. Thelatter had signified by his visit the desire to end the misunderstandingbetween them. He was as well born as Gerrit Ammidon; only ill chance hadmade them seem differently situated. Anyhow, unlike Canton, mere exteriorposition had comparatively little weight in Salem. The shipmasters, themore important merchants, arrogated a certain superiority to themselves:but it broke down before the inborn democracy of the local spirit. 

That afternoon, he decided, he'd be in Pleasant Street; and later hedressed with the most meticulous care. A growing doubt seized him as hemounted the outside steps of the Ammidons' impressive house; but hecrushed it down and firmly rapped with the polished knocker on theopened door. 

The family, a servant told him, was in the garden; and he followedthrough a large white-paneled hall into a formal drawing-room and greenspace beyond. He was again uncertain before the number of people groupedabout a summerhouse and apparently watching his approach with coldsurprise. But Gerrit Ammidon stepped forward and greeted him with anadequately level civility. 

"You know my father, " he said, and Jeremy Ammidon, his heavy body inlinen above which his face was dusky, put out an abrupt hand. There was aMr. Brevard, a slender unconcerned person in very fashionable butrestrained clothes; William Ammidon's wife, a large woman in Indiamuslin, handsome enough, Edward Dunsack conceded, in the obviousAmerican sense; a daughter of William's, a girl blooming into womanhood, far too vigorous and brightly colored for his taste; and Gerrit's wife. 

The latter had been hidden from him at first, and he saw her suddenly, completely: his surprise caused him to stand in an awkwardsuspense--never had he imagined that a woman, even a Manchu, could be sobeautiful! He recognized, in a score of unmistakable details, that shewas of irreproachably high birth; her satins were embroidered with thesymbols of nobility and matrimonial felicity; the gold fingernail guards, the jade and flowering pearls, her earrings and tasseled tobacco pouchand ivory fan, were all in the most superlative manner. 

A deep pleasurable excitement filled him as he made his greeting incorrect Chinese. The long delicate oval of her face showed no emotion atthe sound of her native speech and she returned his periods in a slowlychosen mechanical English. Edward Dunsack thought that as he spoke anexpression of distaste stamped Gerrit's features. However, he was left inno doubt: "My wife, " the other instructed him, "prefers to speak English. That is the only way she has of picking it up. "

A contempt filled Dunsack which he was barely able to keep from his voiceand manner. He nodded shortly, and subsided into a study of Taou Yuen soopen that she must have become aware of his interest. Seated on the benchthat circled the interior of the latticed summerhouse she moved so thathe could no longer see her face. Brevard was beside her, talking in a lowamused voice: there was a ringing peal of laughter from Sidsall Ammidonand a faint infinitely well-bred ripple from Taou Yuen. The brilliantpatch of her gown made an extraordinary effect in the Salem garden. Edward Dunsack recognized the scents that stirred from her, more Easternand disturbing even than opium: there was a subtle natural odor of musk, the perfumes of henna and clove blossoms and santal. 

A curious double feeling possessed him in the split consciousness ofwhich he was capable--he had the sensation of having come, in the suaveafternoon garden, on overwhelming disaster, and at the same time he wasenraged by the play of Fate that had given such a woman to Gerrit Ammidonand denied him, with his special appreciation of Oriental charm, theslightest satisfaction. A more general hatred of Gerrit tightened to aconsuming resentment of the other's blind fortune. 

One thing was unmistakably borne upon him--in spite of the courtesy hewas meeting it was clear that he could not hope to become a customaryvisitor at the Ammidons'. He was put definitely outside the community ofinterests in which Brevard easily entered. William Ammidon joined them, and something like astonishment at Dunsack's presence was visible on hiscomplacent face. 

He remained, however, in a stubborn resistance to small adverse signs inthe hope of gaining some additional facts about Taou Yuen. She had been, he learned, a widow and Gerrit had married her with her father-in-law'sconsent although the latter was a rich official. He wanted to ask athousand questions, but he knew that even if the Ammidons were too denseto grasp his curiosity, Taou Yuen herself would comprehend hisimpoliteness. Nowhere else could be found the wisdom and poise of aManchu lady. 

Jeremy Ammidon, in a lawn chair, a smoking cheroot in his fingers, askedhim about affairs of Chinese government and commerce. As the old mantalked he flushed darkly with quick indignation. "The English have madeour political diplomats look like stuffed gulls!" he declared. "Look attheir Orders in Council and the British Prize Courts, " he proceeded, waving his cheroot; "stop an American vessel anywhere and pretend to finda deserting English sailor. With the Treaty of Ghent and cod-headedcommissioners and a Congress that wouldn't know a ship from a bread bargethe country's going to hell on greased ways! I've said it a thousandtimes and any man not a complete ass knows that you can't run agovernment without a strong head. Locofocos, " he muttered. 

Edward Dunsack listened to this tirade with an air of polite attentionwhich hid completely the fact that he heard or comprehended scarcely aword. His thoughts were filled by the fragrant vision of Taou Yuen;already he was deep in the problem of how to see her again, to-morrow. Itwould be excessively difficult. Eastern women never, if they could avoidit, walked; and they were, he knew, entirely without the necessity thatdrove the women of Salem into a ceaseless round of calling and gossip. Itwas probable that, except to ride, she wouldn't leave the house andgrounds. He cursed the chance quarrel that had set a customary voidbetween the houses of Dunsack and Ammidon, the unfortunate affair of hissister and Vollar inescapably adding to the permanency of the breach; heparticularly cursed Nettie. There, however, his mind took up the twistedthread of the vague possibility that the latter might be useful to him:he was amazed at the way in which his premonitions fitted into thepattern of situations yet to be materialized. 

Edward Dunsack turned from his contemplation of Taou Yuen to a carefulconsideration of Gerrit Ammidon. The latter had a countenance whichshowed strong, easily summoned emotions. It was an intolerant face, Dunsack judged, and yet sentimental; and it was surprisingly young, guileless. At the same time it was unusually determined--an affair ofuncomplicated surfaces, direct gaze, marked bone. 

He questioned sharply, irritably, the length to which his projections hadreached. What were they all about? The answer was presented by theglittering figure of the Manchu; she had risen and was standing in theentrance of the summerhouse. He thought, with a jerking pulse, ofOriental similes; she was a lotus-woman, a green slip of willow, anambrosial moon, a mustard flower. Her teeth were white buds, her breastsblanched almonds. 

His entire life in China had been a preparation for the realization ofthe present moment. The sense of danger, of anger at Gerrit Ammidon, perished before the supreme emotion called up by Taou Yuen. He wantedto embrace her satin-shod feet, to cling to her odorous hands, suchhands as were never formed out of China, like petals of coral. Not onlyher bodily charm intoxicated him, but the thought of her subtle mindadded its attraction, its shadows never to be pierced by the bluntedWestern instinct, the knowledge of pleasures like perfumes, the calmblend of the eight diagrams of Confucius, the stoicism of theBuddhistic soul revolving perpetually in the urn of Fate, and of thealoof Tao of Lao-tze. 

Brevard left with an easy familiarity, already planning a return, thatfilled Edward Dunsack with resentful envy. The sun had disappeared behindthe house; long cool shadows swept down the garden; it was past time forhim to go. A reluctance to move from the magic of Taou Yuen possessedhim: he was unable to think how, when, he would next see her. He raged atthe prohibition against speaking Chinese; that ability should give him anoverwhelming advantage of Gerrit Ammidon. This was, of course, the reasonthat he had been virtually commanded to limit himself to English. Many ofthe forms of extreme Chinese courtesy were impossible to express inanother language. 

Finally he rose; in departing he emphasized the importance of JeremyAmmidon--Taou Yuen should recognize and applaud that. He saw that she waswatching him obliquely, her lips in repose, her hands still among thesatin draperies. An American would have betrayed something of herreaction to him, he could have discovered a trace, an indication, of herthoughts; but the Manchu's face was as inscrutable as porcelain. WilliamAmmidon nodded, the old man responded to his leave-taking with a degreeof warmness, Gerrit at least smiled in a not unfriendly manner. EdwardDunsack bowed to Taou Yuen, and she gravely inclined her head. He had alast glimpse of her glowing in the green light of the inclosure ofrose-bushes and poplars, emerald sod and tangled lilac trees. 

At the supper table his sister's appearance in somber untidy blackbarége, Nettie's unrestrained gestures and speech, the coarse red clothand plain boiled fare, all added to a discontent that he could scarcelyrestrain. With the utmost discrimination in delicate shades of beauty andluxury he was yet condemned to spend his days in surroundings hardlyraised above poverty-stricken squalor. Incongruous as it was he could yetimagine Taou Yuen moving with a certain appropriateness about theAmmidons' spacious grounds and house; but he was absolutely unable topicture her here, on Hardy Street. 

All the vivid scenes that continually formed and shifted in his mindgathered about Gerrit Ammidon's wife. He used this phrase in acontemptuously satirical manner: it was impossible for Ammidon actuallyto marry a Manchu. Such racial mating, he told himself, could not beconsummated; there were too many deep antipathies of flesh and spirit;the man was too--too stupidly normal. Sooner or later he would swing backto his own. With him, Edward Dunsack, it was different; he always had aninner kinship with China; at first sight its streets and sounds, odorsand ways, had seemed familiar, admirable. 

The realization of this, when his place with Heard and Companycollapsed, had sent him back to America, in a strange dread. Heremembered how the vague fear had followed him to Derby Wharf. Now helaughed at it, welcoming every Chinese instinct he had. They seemed tothrow a bridge across enormous difficulties, bringing him finally toTaou Yuen. 

He lingered at the table after supper, his head sunk on his chest, revolving the various aspects of his position. One thing was definite--hemust have Taou Yuen; it was unthinkable that she should continue withGerrit Ammidon. It needed skillful planning, tortuous execution, but inthe end he'd get his desire. He had no doubt of that. It was necessary. If she opposed him she would discover that he, too, could be subtle, Oriental, yes--dangerous. None of the stupid inhibitions that, forexample, bound his father interfered with the free exercise of hispersonal wishes. He was beyond primitive morality. 

An ecstasy of contemplation ravished his senses. 

"Goodness, Uncle Edward, " Nettie exclaimed, "you scared me, you looked solike a Chinee. "

"There are no such people, " he retorted sharply, exasperated by thevulgar error. She was undismayed; and when, in reply to the question, shelearned that he had been at the Ammidons' her surprise increased hisirritation. He saw from her manner that his calling there had been atleast unexpected. Nettie interrupted the preparation of the table forbreakfast, and dropped into a chair beyond him, her hands--the sleeveswere rolled back to her elbows--clasped before her. 

"You must tell me everything, " she declared eagerly. "What is she like?Do they seem happy? Did he hold her hand? Do Chinese women kiss? Is shetall or--"

"I can't remember a question out of your rattle, " he interrupted her. Hewas about to give expression to his admiration for Taou Yuen, when hestopped, with tight lips. Here, perhaps, was the lever by which so muchwas to be shifted. 

"She's Chinese, " he said indifferently, "and that means yellow. " Nettiemade a gesture of distaste. "They seem to get along well enough. Ofcourse, it's ridiculous to call it a marriage, and it seems to me veryquestionable to impose it on the Ammidons as that. The thing is--howlong will it last, how soon will he get tired of her and send her backto Canton?"

Nettie Vollar closed her eyes, her hands were rigid. The lamplight, streaming up over her face, showed him that it was tense and pale andanswered a question. Her feeling for Gerrit Ammidon had been more than amere hurt pride. In addition to that he saw beyond any doubt the proof ofits existence still. This complicated his problem: inspired only by aresentment that he might fan into hatred she would be far more pliablethan in the grip of a genuine affection for Gerrit Ammidon. He understoodthe processes of the former, a flexible and useful steel; but no onecould predict the vagaries, the absurd self-sacrifices, of love. Well, he'd have to work with what offered. That, he realized, was the strengthof his philosophy--he accepted promptly, without vain regret, the meansthat lay at his hand. 

"Ammidon seems worn, " he said generally; "they were in the garden, and Ihad a few words privately with him. " Nettie glanced swiftly across thetable; her lips moved; but she repressed the obvious question tremblingon them. "He showed, I think, " he continued carefully, "a very improperinterest in you. "

"How?"

"He asked if you were well and happy. I most certainly told him, for anynumber of reasons, for pride alone, that you were. "

"Then you told a lie, " she cried in a tone so hard that it surprised him. 

"Of course, " he went on smoothly, "I know that you are not, almost allyour circumstances prohibit that. But I don't intend to circulate it inSalem. Opinion here may have forced you into a long loneliness, but Ishan't give anyone the satisfaction of knowing it. And, after all, youhave your grandfather mostly to blame. You would have been married toGerrit Ammidon now if he hadn't interfered; you would have been walkingabout the Ammidons' garden with your hand on his arm in place of thatChinese prostitute. "

"I don't see why you should make me so miserable, " she declared. "I don'tcare anything about the garden, it isn't that. Why do you suppose hebrought such a woman home?"

"Pique, " he told her; "he couldn't care for her in the way he might for, well--you. As I said, he'll drop her on his next voyage to the East; hewill leave her and probably never come back to Salem again. I hear thatAmmidon, Ammidon and Saltonstone are planning a new policy--bigger ships, clippers in the China and California trade; and that means removal toBoston. Their facilities here are no longer suitable. "

She moved, her chin fell upon her hands, propped up with her elbows onthe table. Apparently Edward Dunsack was gazing at the wall beyond her. Her breast gave a single sharp heave. When Nettie looked up her face wasflushed. "I wish that I were really a bad woman, " she spoke in a lowvibrant voice. 

"What is bad and what is good?" He still seemed to ignore her, considering a question that had no personal bearing. "In one country athing is thought wrong and in another it is the highest virtue. In oneage this or that is condemned, when, turn the calendar, and everyone ispraising it. " He became confidential, the image of kindness. "I'll tellyou what I think is wicked, " he pronounced, leaning toward her, "and thatis the way you two were kept apart; unchristian is what I call it. "

"Gerrit doesn't care, " she said. 

"How do you know?" he demanded. "I cannot agree with you. I don't find agreat deal in him to admire, he is too simple and transparent; butthere's no doubt of this, he is faithful. One idea, one affection, is allhis head will hold. "

"That's a beautiful trait. " A palpable wistfulness settled over her. 

"It's greatly admired, " he agreed; "although not by me. I believe intaking what is yours, what you need, from life. I suppose that I havebeen away from proprieties so long that they have lost their importance. They seem to me of no greater weight than barriers of straw. But, ofcourse, that mightn't suit you; probably, living in Salem as you have, its opinion is valuable. "

"Salem!" she exclaimed bitterly. "What has it ever been to me but anunfair judgment? I owe Salem no consideration; I can't see that I oweany to life. "

"I don't want to insist on that, " he proceeded deliberately. "The tragedyof your position is that married to Ammidon everything in the past wouldhave been overlooked, forgotten. Even now--" he stopped with a gestureindicating the presence still of large possibilities. 

God, what a vacillating fool the girl was! He could say no more atpresent, and he rose, leaving the room with Nettie staring dully acrossthe table. He went outside, to the grass fronting on the harbor. Here, last night, he had thrown the opium into the water. It seemed to himthat he had lived through a complete existence since then: the presenceof Taou Yuen had created a new world. He thought she walked to himthrough the gloom; he saw her slender body grow brighter as sheapproached; he heard her speak in a low native murmur; their handscaught in an eager tangle. 

He put aside, momentarily, the problem of the difficulties of going againto the Ammidons' for an easier one--the bringing of Gerrit Ammidon here. He was confident that, thrown together on the still rim of the water, atevening, the emotion born between his niece and the shipmaster andprematurely choked would revive. He had no means of knowing Ammidon'spresent exact feeling for Nettie; he was counting only on a generaltheory of men and nature at large. He was already convinced, from verywide knowledge, experience, that the other could not form a permanentattachment to the Manchu; and Nettie's great difference, together withthe romance of her unhappy position, must have a potent effect on thefellow's evident sentimentality. A dank air rose from the water, like thesmell of death; and, with an uncontrollable shiver, he turned back towardthe house. 

In his room Edward Dunsack recalled that he had promised himself to throwaway the remainder of the opium on this and succeeding nights. In view ofthat his movements were inexplicable: he got out from a locked chest the_yen tsiang_, a heavy tube of dark wood inlaid with silver ideograms anddiminutive earthen cup at one end. Then he produced a small brass lamp, brushes, long needles, and a metal rod. Taking off his clothes, and inthe somber black folds of the silk robe, he made various minutely carefulpreparations. Finally, extended on his bed, he dipped the end of the rodinto opium the color of tar, kept it for a bubbling moment near the blazeof the lamp, and then crowded the drug into the pipe. He held the bowl tothe flame and drew in a long deep inhalation. A second followed and thepipe was empty. He repeated this until he had smoked a mace. 

A vivacious and brilliant state of being flooded him; he felt capableof profoundly witty conversation, and laughed at the solemn absurditiesof the Ammidons, at his father attempting to call down a blessing outof the empty sky upon their food, at his sister's lugubriouscountenance, the childish emotions of Nettie. What a nonsensicalstrutting business life was. 

The confines of his room were lost in an amber radiance that filled allspace; it was at once a light and a perfume and charged with a sense ofimpending rapture. A sparkling crimson shape floated down from infiniteskies--Taou Yuen. She wore a bridal costume, cunningly embroidered withthe phoenix, a hood of thin gold plate, and a band of red silk about herbrow bore the eight copper figures of the beings who are immortal. Herhair was ornamented by the pure green jade pins of summer, her hangingwrists were heavy with virgin silver, while her face was like thedesirous August moon flushed in low vapors. 

He raised his bony arms--the wide silk sleeves falling back--hisemaciated yellow hands. From under his dark eyelids there was a glitterof vision like the sheen on mica... Taou Yuen floated nearer. 

Edward Dunsack woke suddenly, at the darkest ebb of night, and startedhurriedly to his feet. A sickening vertigo, a whirling head, sent himlurching across the room. He came in contact with a chest of drawers, andclung to it with the feeling that his legs were shriveling beneath him. His consciousness slowly returned, and with it a pain like ruthlesstearing fingers searched his body. The rectangle of the open window, only less dark than the room, promised a relief from the strangled effortof his breathing, and he fell across the ledge, lifting his face to astarless and unstirring heat. Waves of complete physical exhaustionpassed over him. An utter horror fastened on his brain. 

"Oh, God, " he said, with numb lips, "we thank Thee for this, Thy dailyblessing--" He broke off with an effort. That was his father pronouncinga grace. "Oh God--" he said again, when it seemed to him that in thedarkness he saw the blank placidity of a Buddha carved from gray stone. Tears ran over his sunken cheeks, salt and warm like blood. 

VI

The night was so oppressive, continuing such an unusually sultry periodfor the season, that Sidsall, ordinarily impervious to the effects ofweather, was unable to sleep. Although the door between her room and herparents' was shut, she heard her father--his step, at once quick andfirm, was easily recognizable moving about beyond. Her restlessnessincreased and she got up, crossing the floor to the window open on thegarden, where she knelt, the thick plait of her hair across her cheek andshoulder, with her arms propped on the ledge. The depths of sky werehidden in a darkness like night made visible; and, in place of movingair, there were slow waves of perfume, now from the lilacs and now fromthe opening hedge of June roses. 

Her brain was filled by a multitude of minor images and speculations, butfixed at their back was the presence of Roger Brevard. She approved ofhim absolutely. He had exactly the formal manner that gave her a pleasantsense of delicate importance, and his clothes were beautiful, a sprig ofrose geranium in a buttonhole and his gloves and boots immaculate. Sheliked rather slight graceful men, she thought, with the quiet voices of apolite ancestry. Naturally Olive Wibird preferred less restrainedcompanions, although Heaven knew that Olive appeared to make all kindswelcome. Olive's opinion of Roger Brevard would have been very differentif he had asked her to dance. 

Sidsall recalled the quadrille he had led her through at Lacy's party; hehad been a perfect partner, at once light and firm. He had been ahabitual caller at Java Head before that occasion, and had come in thesame manner since. That is, casually viewed, his visits seemed the same;but in reality there were some small yet significant differences. Theywere all held in his attitude of the afternoon when he had stayed talkingexclusively to her on the steps. 

She couldn't say just what the change was; when she attempted to examineit her thoughts became confused and turned to a hundred absurdconsiderations, such as--at present--the loveliness of the night. Thescents of the flowers were overwhelming. He got on, too, better thanalmost anyone else with her Uncle Gerrit's Manchu wife. She had watchedthem together until it had dawned on her that the two had some importantqualities in common--they both appeared to stand a little aside from theworld, as if they were against the wall at a cotillion. She thought thisin spite of the fact that it was precisely what Roger Brevard never did;it was true in the mysterious way of so much now that came from ideasover which she had no control. 

The subject of Uncle Gerrit's wife--she had not yet been told or decidedfor herself what to call her--was inexhaustibly enthralling. But, beforeshe was again fairly launched in it, she paused to wonder at the presenceof the dreadful Dunsack man on their lawn. His hollow yellow cheeks andstaring brown eyes which somehow made her think of pain, his restlesshands and speech, all repelled her violently. Taou--Taou Yuen hadn'tliked him either: when, after the longest time, he had gone, she repliedto a short comment from her, Sidsall's, father:

"Rotten wood cannot be carved. "

Some one else had mentioned opium. She had intended to ask moreparticularly about this, but it slipped from her mind. She rememberedthat her grandfather made one of his familiar exclamations peppered withan appalling word. He was really very embarrassing, and she was glad thatRoger Brevard had left. It was a bad example for Laurel, too, who copiedhim, and only that morning said "My God" to Miss Gomes. Her mind swungback to the consideration of the Manchu: The latter was the fact uponwhich Camilla was so insistent, that in this case a Manchu was a noble, almost a princess. Camilla suffered dreadfully from the endless questionsput to her outside their house about Uncle Gerrit's wife. She had morethan once wept at the public blot laid on them. Laurel was franklyinquisitive and Janet as puzzling as usual. 

The clothes of course were enchanting, the richness of the materials andhand embroidery marvellous; her jewelry was never ending. It didn't seemquite like clothing, in the sense of her own tarlatan and crinoline, herwaist which Hodie wouldn't properly lace and tulle draping; there was acertain resemblance to the dressing in Van Amburgh's circus; but--inspite of Camilla's private laments--every inch of it was distinguished. The layers of paint upset them, but Uncle Gerrit had explained, a littleimpatiently, that it was a Manchu custom, adding that the world couldn'tbe all measured and judged by Salem. 

Sidsall liked her rather than not, she decided; and determined to make aneffort to know her better. She wanted specially to discover the nature ofthe bond that held one to the other, and explore, in safety, the depthsof love. She could not help feeling that her uncle's affair, extraordinary as it was, must throw light on the whole complicatedbusiness of marriage. ... The clock in the hall struck an indeterminatehalf hour, it appeared to grow lighter outside, and there was atwittering of martins from the stables. From above came the vigorousharsh cawing of crows. Suddenly sleepy she returned to bed and almostimmediately the room was flooded with sunlight. 

It was an accepted fact now that Taou Yuen, the Garden of Peaches, stayedin her room until long after breakfast; and when Sidsall, rising from thetable, found a servant taking up a pot of hot water for tea, she securedit and knocked carefully on the door above. The slurring hesitating voicesaid "Come in, " and she entered with a diffidence covered by a cheerfullypolite morning greeting. She found the other in crêpe de Chine pantaloonswrapped tightly about her ankles and bound over quilted muslin socks withgay brocaded ribbons and a short floating gown of gray silk worked withwillow leaves. Her hair was an undisturbed complication of lustrousblack, gold bodkins and flowers massed on either side; and her face, without paint or powder, was as smooth as ivory and the color of verypale coffee and cream. 

Sidsall saw that she was at her toilet, and she put down the pot ofsteaming water, moving toward the door; but Taou Yuen, with a charminglyshy gesture, begged her to stay. She swiftly drew a cup of tea fromsilvery leaves, filled and lighted the minute bowl of her tobacco pipe, deeply inhaled the smoke; then returned to a mirror. 

Fascinated, Sidsall followed every motion. 

Taou Yuen polished her face sharply with a hot damp cloth and then dippedher fingers in a jar that held a sticky amber substance. "Honey, " shesaid briefly, rubbing it into her cheeks and palms. Next she attacked hereyebrows, and skillfully wielding a thin silk cord left arches likepencil markings. At times she interrupted her preparations to turn toSidsall with a little smile so engaging that the girl smiledsympathetically in answer. There were a gilt paper box of rice powder, with which she drenched her countenance, leaves of carmine transferred toher cheeks with a wet finger, and a silver pot of rouge from which shecoated her lips. As she gazed approvingly at her reflection Sidsall said:

"It's very beautiful. "

Her eyes, drawn up toward her temples, shone gayly; and, close toSidsall, she touched the latter affectionately on the cheek. The coldsharp contact of the long curving finger guard gave the girl anunpleasant shock. It seemed lifeless, or like the scratching of a beetle. Suddenly the woman's glittering gaze, her expressionless face stiff withpaint, the blaze of her barbaric colors, filled Sidsall with a shrinkingthat was almost dread. 

She was even more oppressed by an instinctive feeling of what she couldexpress to herself only as cruelty hidden under the other's scentedembroidery. At the same time her curiosity persisted, conquered. She wasunable, however, to think of any possible manner of introducing the newsubject of her interest, love, and was forced to be content with anindifferent opening. 

"We were all quite surprised when Mr. Dunsack called yesterday, " shesaid. "He isn't in the least a friend of the family. Grandfather went tosea with his father, but even they didn't speak for years in Salem. TheDunsacks are a little common. "

"I know, " Taou Yuen replied. "Mr. Dunsack--a long time in Canton, at theAmerican agents. China is bad for men like him. Black spirits get in themand the ten sins. "

"He stared at you in the rudest way. "

"He never saw a Manchu lady before. In China the dog would not havepassed by the first gate. Here it is nothing to be a Manchu or anhonorable wife; it is all like the tea houses and rice villages. Men walkup to you with bold eyes. I tell Gerrit and he laughs. I stay in the roomand he brings me shamefully down. This Mr. Dunsack comes and the wise oldman talks to him like a son. He touches your mother's hand. He sees theyoung girls like white candles. "

"We wouldn't let him really bother us, " Sidsall explained; "probably ifhe comes again we'll all be out. "

Taou Yuen made a comment in Chinese. "A bad thought is a secret knife, "she continued; "it is more dangerous than the anger of the Emperor, asickness that kills with the stink of bodies already dead. "

This seemed rather absurd to Sidsall. She considered once more theintroduction of the subject of her new concern; but, in spite of TaouYuen's extravagant appearance, there was a quality of being which madeimpossible any blunt interrogation. She had a decidedly aloof manner. Hermother, Sidsall recognized, and the older women they knew, had a trace ofthis; but in the Manchu it was carried infinitely further, a mostautocratic disdain. Her feeling for the other shifted rapidly fromattitude to attitude. 

She watched, she was certain, these same sensations come over her AuntCaroline Saltonstone, Mrs. Clifford and Mrs. Wibird, who called on GerritAmmidon's wife that afternoon. They were sitting with their crinolinewidespread against their chairs, gazing with a concerted battery ofcuriosity at Taou Yuen's shimmering figure in the drawing-room screenedagainst the sun. Mrs. Wibird, Sidsall thought--a woman of fat and fadedprettiness, with wine red splotches beneath her eyes, and a voice thatwent on and on in the relating of various petty emotionaldisturbances--must have resembled Olive as a girl. It was probable, then, that Olive would look like her mother when in turn she was middle-aged. Mrs. Clifford, unseasonably huddled in her perpetual shawl, more thanever suggested a haggard marble in somberly rich clothes. Aunt Carolinesat with complacent hands and loud inattentive speech. Taou Yuen smiledat them placidly. 

"Our men, " said Mrs. Clifford, "went out to China for years. It neveroccurred to them however to marry a Chinese woman; but I dare say theydidn't see the right sort. "

"Most of the captains like China, " Taou Yuen said. "They are so far awayfrom their families--" she made a brief philosophical gesture, and MadraClifford studied her with a narrowed gaze. "It would be the same, " shecontinued, "if Chinamen came to America. " Mrs. Wibird shuddered. "Ayellow skin, " she cried impetuously; "I can't bide the thought. "

"I'm sure we'd be tremendously interested, " Mrs. Saltonstone hurriedlyput in, "if you'd tell us about your wedding. A Chinese wedding mustbe--be very gay, with firecrackers and--"

"My marriage with Captain Ammidon was not beautiful--I was a widow and heforeign. The Manchu wedding is very nice. First there is the engagementceremony. I sit like this, " she sank gracefully to the floor, cross-legged, "on the bed with my eyes shut, and, if I am noble, twoprincesses come and put the _ju yi_, it's jade and means all joy, on mylap. Two little silk bags hang from the buttons of my gown with goldcoins, and two gold rings on my fingers must be marked with _Ta hsi_, that's great happiness. "

"I'm told polygamy is an active practice, " Mrs. Wibird remarked with arising interest. 

"Yes?" Taou Yuen asked. 

"One man--a lot of wives. "

"The Emperor has a great many and some Manchus take a second and third. You think that is wrong here. Who knows! The Chinese women are very good, very modest. The Four Books For Girls teach perfect submission; the fivevirtues are benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, sincerity. Confucius says, 'The root is filial piety. '"

"Very admirable, " Mrs. Wibird nodded, agitating the small dyed ostrichplumes tipped with marabou of her bonnet; but it was clear to Sidsallthat this was not the revelation for which she had hoped. A momentarysilence, the edge of an uneasiness, enveloped the visitors. 

"What lovely satins, " Mrs. Saltonstone commented. 

"Please--I have a box full; you will let me give you some?"

"Indeed yes, and thank you. "

Mrs. Wibird, growing resentful, said that a cousin of her aunt's had beena missionary to China, "and did a very blessed work too. "

Taou Yuen smoothly agreed that it was quite possible. "Our poor have agreat many wrong and lustful ideas, " she acknowledged; "they tell liesand beat their wives and gamble. The higher classes too, the mandarinsand princes, use the people for their own security and rob them. Sometimes the law is not honest, and a man with gold gets free when alaborer is put in the bamboo cage. "

Mrs. Clifford said very vigorously, "Ha!"

The silence returned intensified. 

"I remember, " the Manchu went on, "this will amuse you. My father-in-law, who was in the Canton Customs, told me that some boxes of Bibles came outfrom America, with other objects, and when they were opened at theMission they were the wrong ones and filled with rum. "

There was not, however, any marked appreciation of this on the part ofthe Salem women. They rose to leave and Taou Yuen sank on her knee. Shegazed without a trace of emotion at the three flooding the door withtheir belled skirts. "They are the same everywhere, " she told the girl. The latter moved out into the garden. There she subconsciously picked arose and fastened it in her hair; her thoughts turned to Roger Brevard. In his place her Uncle Gerrit came out through the drawing-room window. The usual shadow of the house, lengthening with afternoon, was pleasantlyenveloping, and they walked slowly over the grass. 

"A flower in your hair, " he said, "and by yourself. You have beenthinking about true love. " She blushed vividly at this unexpected angleon her mind and found it impossible to meet his keen blue eyes. "Lovemust be a remarkable thing. " She raised a swift glance to his face anddiscovered that he had not spoken to her at all, but, hat in hand, waslooking away with an expression of abstraction. 

"I mean the unreasonable silly divine kind, " he specified, now gazingat her quizzically, as if lost in a mood over which he had no control;"the sort that is as long as life and stronger. It is entirelydifferent and ages older than the reasonable logical love, all properand suitable and civilized; or the love that is the result of adetermination, the result of a determination, " he repeated, frowningdarkly at their feet. Sidsall held her breath, thrilled by the wealthof what she had heard, fearful of diverting what might be yet revealed. But he moved away abruptly, in a manner that enforced solitude, andstood apparently examining the rockery. 

Her brain rang with the splendid phrase, "Love as long as life andstronger. " It seemed to clarify and state so much of her lately confusedbeing. Hodie, artfully drawn into the consideration of earthly affection, was far less satisfactory than Gerrit Ammidon. She dwelt on the treasurebeyond moth or rust, lost in an ecstasy of contemplation expressed in hercustomary explosive amens. At the same time she admitted that lowerunions were blessed of God, and recommended Sidsall to think on "a manwho has seen the light and by no means a sea captain. " Sidsall repliedcuttingly, "I think you must forget where you are. "

"I forget nothing, " Hodie stoutly maintained; "I'll witness beforeanyone. " She settled the flounces of Sidsall's skirt with a deft hand. 

Walking toward the Saltonstones' for tea, with a mulberry silk parasolcasting a shifting glow on her expanse of clear madras, Sidsallwondered at the sudden change of almost all her interests andpreoccupations. It was very disturbing--she fell into daydreams thatcarried her fancy away on a search that was a longing, a soft confusionof opening her arms to mystery. This varied with a restless melancholy;the old securities of her life were hidden in a mist of uncertainty inwhich her consciousness was troubled by nameless pressures; somethingwithin her held almost desperately back from further adventuring. Butall the time a latent fascination was drawing her on, putting aside thecurtain for her better view. 

The Saltonstones' dwelling on Chestnut Street was one of a pair--a largesolid square of brick--with two identical oval white porticoes and rowsof windows keyed in white stone. Within the staircase swept up to aslender pillared opening, through which Lacy, calmly dressing, waved adeliberate hand. Mrs. Saltonstone was seated by the tall gilt framedmirror on a low marble stand between long front windows. "As usual, " shesaid, in connection with her daughter, "Lacy's as cool as a water monkey;gets it from James; they wouldn't hurry if--" She searched in vain for anexpression of her family's composure. "Now I am an impetuous woman. " Shepromptly exhibited this quality in the vigor with which she met the wrongcanister of tea brought by a servant. She didn't intend to serve PadreSouchong to a lot of people who apparently confused afternoon tea with aninvitation to dinner. 

In the small press which followed Sidsall stopped in the dining room withLacy and Olive Wibird. Olive was still discussing men. "He sat holding myhand right on that bench by your hedge, Sidsall, and said that nothingcould keep him from coming back for me, but he died of yellow fever inBatavia. " She left in the company of a beau of fifty anyhow, with aglistening bald head, a silly smirking bow and flood of compliments. Lacymoved away and Sidsall found herself facing Roger Brevard. 

"That looks remarkably like a garden, " he said, waving toward an opendoor. The sun had become obscured in a veil of cloud, drooping until italmost seemed to rest on the bright green foliage; her companion's mood, too, was shadowed. "I thought you'd be here, " he added outside, "andlooked for you at once. "

"There was something special you wanted to say?"

"My dear child, " he replied, "can't you guess how absolutely refreshingyou are? No, I have nothing special. But you'll soon get used to menaround with no more reason than yourself. "

She studied this seriously; and, as its complimentary intent emerged, a corresponding color stained her cheeks. Her gaze rested on him forthe fleetest moment possible and, to her surprise, she saw that hewas frowning. 

"I came here just to see you. No, " he corrected his period, "only to seeyou. " His manner was surprisingly abrupt and disconcerting. "I can quiterealize, " he went on, "that I shouldn't say any of this. Yet, on theother hand, it is the most natural thing in the world. I have beenlistening to the conventional babble of teas and cotillions for so longthat you are like a breath of lost youth. Certainly that is appropriate. I think, " he told her, "that you are the youngest thing alive. " Then helaughed, "So young that I have annoyed you. "

"I feel a great deal older than I did, well--last month, " she said. 

"That is a tragedy. " She felt that if he were still amused at her she wasfurious, but he was even graver than before. "To tell you helps hurry thecharm to an end. That is what might be complained against me. Yet flowerswill open, you know, and it might as well be in an honest sun. "

"I don't understand, " she admitted, troubled. 

"Why, it means, Sidsall, that I am offering you an experienced hand, thatI'm certain I can do you more good than harm--"

"That's silly, " she interrupted. "If you mean that we might be friends, really confidential friends, it would help me awfully. But then it's soone-sided. "

"You'll have to overlook that, " he answered; "probably all that I cangive you, experience, isn't worth the smallest of your feelings. Probablyyou won't need me for an instant. Certainly the pleasure will be mine. "

"You didn't understand, " she told him, with dignity; "it's the other wayround. I am not a particle interesting and everyone agrees that I'm toohealthy. But I can't help it if my cheeks are red and mother won't letme have powder. " It was obviously impossible to explain about Hodie andthe lacing. 

"I like it, " he insisted. "I'll admit that I am unfashionable there. Ithink we'll hit on a great deal to share privately. " There was a faintpatter among the leaves, and a cold drop of rain fell on Sidsall's arm. Others struck Roger Brevard but he continued without apparently noticingthem. "You must understand that I am entirely at your service. Sometimes, although they won't come yet, there are things a--a friend can do betterthan one's family. You'll ask me, Sidsall?"

"Yes, " she said solemnly. More rain struck her; she could see it nowplainly, falling between them. Roger Brevard's face was dark, the frownstill scarred his forehead. Personally she was happier than sheremembered ever being before and she wondered at his severity of bearing. "But you must go in at once, " he cried, suddenly energetic, his familiarself; "you are getting wetter every minute. "

The clouds dissolved into a late sunlight that streamed in long barsthrough the canopies of elms on the streets. From her windows Sidsall sawa world of flashing greenery and limpid sky. Usually when she was happyshe sang unimportant bits of light song, but her present state wasserious and inarticulate. The indeterminate questions, the disturbingvague moods, of the past days somehow combined and took on the tangibleshape of Roger Brevard. Her curiosity about love was resolved into asudden inner shrinking from its possibilities and meaning. 

She was lost in her aloofness from mundane affairs: Taou Yuen inwhispering silk, her grandfather's rotund tones, Laurel and Camilla andher mother, were distant, immaterial. In the evening she sat on thefront steps, a web of white, dreamily intent on the shimmering sweep ofWashington Square. After a little she was joined by Gerrit Ammidon. Hewore linen trousers and a short blue sea jacket; and the waveringdelicately lavender trail of smoke from his cheroot was like herfloating thoughts. 

"Already, " he said, "I am full of getting back on my ship. "

She smiled at him absently. 

"The land doesn't do for a sailor, " he continued. "They are always intotrouble on shore. I can't say why it should be so but it is. If there'snot one kind there is another; rum and such varnish for the able seaman, and--and complications for a master. I suppose that's because there areso confounded many unexpected currents and slants of wind, as you mightsay. On shipboard everything pretty much is charted; a thing will befollowed more or less by a fixed consequence. The waves break so and soon coral or rocks or sand; there is usually the sun for an observation;a good man knows his ship, how many points she'll hold on the wind, howa cargo must be stowed, when to take in the light canvas. You can givethe man at the wheel a course and turn in or stay on deck and beat yourway through hell. It's exact, you know, but on shore--" he made ahopeless gesture. 

"There are no regulations, " he observed moodily; "or else nobody followsthem: collisions all the time, sinkings and derelicts drifting round, awash and dismasted. But they are everywhere. That fellow, EdwardDunsack--" he stopped, lost in speculation. Then, "He seems harmlessenough, " he resumed, "even pitiful; but he sticks in your head. I wishI'd never brought his damned chest to Salem. A fool would have knownbetter. I'm worse--a childish fool. A derelict, " he said again. "You aresmashing over a swell at twelve knots or more, everything spread, when, in a hollow, there it is squarely across your bow. No time to shift thewheel, and a ship's missing, perhaps in a hundred fathom. It might be thebest ship afloat, the best master and stoutest crew, but in a minuteshe's only a salty tangle. "

He laughed uneasily at the vividness of his fancy. "If it's hard for uswhat must it be for Taou Yuen?" he demanded. "Married to me! Here! That'scourage for you. " He tramped down the steps, across Pleasant Street, withhis bare head sunk, and vanished into the obscurity of the Square. Shecaught a last glimmer of white trousers, a faint rapid gleam where hislighted cheroot described the arc of a passionate gesture on the night. 

The spring, like the full buds of the hedge roses in the Ammidons'garden, passed swiftly into early summer. The flowers against the houseshowed gay perennial colors, the stocks and larkspur and snapdragonssucceeded the retreating flood of the lilacs. The days were still yellowpools of heat, or else cooled by the faintly salt sea wind drawing downthe elms and chestnuts, followed by purple-green nights of moonlight. They seemed to Sidsall to hold everything in a pause. She saw less andless of Taou Yuen who now scarcely came out of her room except for anoccasional ride in the barouche with Mrs. Ammidon or a contemplative hourin the garden, usually at dusk. Apparently content with the elaboraterearrangement of her headdress, she sat for long periods, gazing out overWashington Square, idle except for the regular tap of her pipe emptyingthe ashes of the minute bowl. 

Yet Sidsall's first interest in her had almost completely shifted toGerrit Ammidon. He evidently preferred her company to that of the othermembers of his family, and they often took short largely silent walks, usually down to the Salem Marine Railway where the _Nautilus_ wasundergoing repairs. His protracted silences were broken by the suddenvehement protests against the generally muddled aspect of affairs orlonger monologues of inner questioning and search. He almost neverreferred to her or made her part of a conversation; she was free to dwellon her own emotions while he, with a corrugated brow, went on in histortuous and solitary course. 

On an afternoon when they had walked to the foot of Briggs Street, andwere gazing out over the tranquil water of Collins Cove, Gerrit Ammidonasked abruptly:

"Have you seen Nettie Vollar lately?"

Sidsall was unable to remember exactly when that had been. She ratherthought she had caught a glimpse of her in Lawrence Place with booksunder her arm which she was probably taking from the Athenaeum for hergrandfather. Anyone, she told herself privately, could see that NettieVollar wouldn't care for books. 

Something had occurred, or threatened to occur, between her uncle andNettie; what it was she had never been told; but she realized that onlyone thing could really happen between a man and a girl--they must havebeen in love. In the interest of this she recalled Nettie Vollar'sappearance, but was unable to discover any marked attractions. The elderhad a good figure, rather full for her age, and totally different fromher own square solidity. Her hair was coarse and carelessly arranged, herclothes noticeable for a love of brightness rather than care in thespending of a small sum. 

Gerrit Ammidon had the strangest tastes!

He was standing immobile, looking across the Cove as if he were on aquarter-deck searching for a hidden land. His legs were slightly spread, firmly planted in a manner to defeat any sudden lurching. She grew alittle impatient at him staring like a block at nothing at all; she feltolder than he, superior in the knowledge of life; he seemed hardly morethan an absurd boy. Sidsall had a desire to shake him. He was so--soimpracticable. "Don't you think we'd better be going?" she asked finally. Gerrit Ammidon turned and followed her obediently. 

There were lights in the rope walk on Briggs Street; through a window shecould see a man pacing down the long narrow interior laying a strand ofhemp from the burden on his shoulders. It made her shudder to think ofthe monotonous passage forward and back, an eternity of slow-twistingrope. Yet life was something like that--she took the happenings of eachday and wove them into a strand dark and bright: a strand, she realized, that grew stronger as it lengthened.... That would be true ofeveryone--of her companion and grandfather and Hodie. 

They reached the house as the family were gathering in the dining room, when Sidsall found Roger Brevard unexpectedly staying for supper. She methis direct greeting and smile with a warm stir of pleasure and sat in ahappy silence listening to the voices about the table. Her uncle hadbrought his wife down and the candles glittering among the lusters on thewalls spread their light over the Manchu's strange vivid figure. Everything about life was so confusing, Sidsall thought. The night flowedin at the open windows drenched with magic: here were candles but outsidewere stars. The port in its engraved glass decanter seemed to burn with aruby flame. "Bah!" her grandfather was exclaiming. "I'll put a thousanddollars on Gerrit and the _Nautilus_ against any clipper built; but mind, in all weathers. "

"Voyage by voyage, " William Ammidon insisted, "he would be left in theharbor. The California gold deposits--. "

Later a crowd, slowly collecting, recalled the fact that the Salem Bandwas to play that night in the Square. "Oh, mother, look, " Laurel cried;"they've got lamps in their hats. " Small wavering flames were beinglighted on the musicians' hats; there were melancholy disconnected hootsfrom bassoons and the silver clear scale of a bugle. "Can't I get nearer, mother?" Laurel implored as usual. "Can't I go and see the little lampson their heads?"

"Sidsall and I will look after her, " Roger Brevard put in, and almostimmediately the three were entering Washington Square. The throng wasthickest directly behind the band, radiating in thinning numbers to thewooden boundary fence. Laurel led them to an advantageous position, wherethey could watch the curious effects of the ring of lights above intentfaces drawn hollow-cheeked by the vigorous blowing of instruments. Theleader, in the center of the flickering smoky illumination, now beat withhis arms in one direction, now in another. 

A second selection followed, and a third, during which, in surprisingpauses, the band shouted a concerted "Hurrah!" Sidsall was infinitelycontented. How splendidly erect and calm and distinguished Roger Brevardwas! She hated younger men, they were only boys, who kept up a senselesstalk about college humor. He saw instantly that the people were crushingher skirts, and firmly conducted them out of the crowd. It was nicer herebeyond the wavering dark mass: a waltz flowed about her so tender andgracious that her eyes filled with tears. 

But Laurel had to be taken home; and, clasping Mr. Brevard's hand, thelittle girl talked volubly as they moved away. "And so, " she said, "Itold her to keep her topsails full. "

"What?" he demanded. 

"She was falling off, you know--losing way. Hell's hatches--"

"Laurel, " Sidsall corrected her sharply. "No, you mustn't laugh at her. "

Only Gerrit Ammidon was on the steps, the other men were in the library;her mother had gone up with Janet. Laurel left them, and, without speech, they walked through the house to the lawn. The stars had apparentlyretreated to new infinities of distance and night, there was a throb ofmusic so faint that it might be only an echoing memory; Roger Brevard'sface was pale and strained. He asked:

"Have you forgotten that we are friends?"

"No, " she returned seriously, lifting her look to his. He was very closeto her and her heart beat unsteadily. She had a choking premonition ofwhat was about to occur, but she stood without the slightest attempt toprevent his kiss. It affected him even more than herself, for he steppedback sharply with his hands clenched. Roger was silent for so long thatshe said, timidly:

"I didn't mind, so much. "

"Thank you, " he replied almost harshly. "There's no need for you toregret it. No need, no need. But if it were only a year more--. "

"We all grow older, " she told him wisely. 

"So we do, Sidsall, and we change. But you should stay exactly as you arenow, white and young and fragrant. Never the fruit but always theblossom, and always a night in early summer. The afterwards is anindifferent performance. "

"I don't understand, " her voice was shadowed. 

"Sidsall for a moment. Don't move--opening petals, shy pureheart... Loveliness.... "

"I don't understand, " she repeated, but the trouble had vanished. Sheeven smiled at him: she was filled with an absolute security in hervision of Roger Brevard. Why, she had no need to question; it was aninstinct beyond search and above knowledge; perhaps, she thought as theyturned toward the house, its name was love. 

VII

The days, to Nettie Vollar, seemed to be both unutterably dull andcolored by a possibility of excitement like an undercurrent of hardlyperceptible fever. Her mother, it was true, took on herself most of theduties of Barzil Dunsack's house; but there were still a large number oflittle things that returned unvaried with every morning, noon and nightfor the girl's attention. The cause of any impending excitement--exceptthe mere presence of Gerrit Ammidon in Salem, now surely of no moment toher--she was unable to place. The feeling that pervaded her most was theheavy conviction that her life was a complete waste, she had thesensation of being condemned to stay in surroundings, in a service, thatnever for a moment represented her desire or true capabilities. Herfamily, as she had grown into maturity, seemed strange, her place therean unhappy accident. 

At her brightest periods she pictured being suddenly, arbitrarily, removed into happier appropriate regions. For a time that vision hadassumed the tangible shape of Gerrit Ammidon; then this comfortablefigure had abruptly left her to an infinitely more seldom return of herfaint indefinite hope. 

Through the inordinate number of hours when she was potentially alone shehad developed a strain of almost painful thought out of keeping with thewhole of her naturally unreflective being. In moments such as thepresent--she was sitting in her room overlooking Hardy Street on itslandward reach--she followed the slow turnings of her mind in the mannerof a child spelling out a sentence. Two things seemed to her of the firstimportance--the existence into which she had been forced by thecircumstance of her birth, and her unknown father himself: unknown, thatis, except for vague promptings and desires which, for need of a betterreason, she traced to his personality. That he was superior, in that hehad had a distinct measure of gentle blood, she was assured by her motheron one of the rare occasions when the subject was touched between them. To that she credited the greater part of her obscure dissatisfaction withconditions which she described as mean. 

The latter evidently didn't disturb her mother or grandfather; sherealized that the long-drawn silent severity of the old man had crushedwhat spirit her mother may have had. It was clear that the elder womanhad been very pretty, with wide fluttering eyes which made you think ofgray moths, and delicately colored cheeks; but all that had been crushed, too. She was meek in a way that filled her daughter with determinedresentment and fear. The resentment sprang from the silent assertion thatshe wouldn't be worn down like that; the fear followed the realization ofthe rigid power of the old man and the weight of all that held herpowerless to escape. Naturally she was rather cheerful than somber, aninvoluntary gayety rose from her in the drabbest moments; she even defiedBarzil Dunsack with ribbons and flowers on her bonnet. 

The prospect from her window offered no relief from the interior; it wastrue that in the other direction she could catch glimpses of the harbor, by leaning out she could get the comparatively full sweep at the bottomof the street; but there were usually things ugly and restraining betweenher and the freedom of the horizon. Her favorite place had been at theedge of the grass above the tide; but, since his return, Edward Dunsackhad hit upon it too, and his proximity made her increasingly uneasy. Forone thing he talked to himself out loud, principally in Chinese, and thesliding unintelligible tongue, accompanied by the sight of his gauntyellow face, his inattentive fixed eyes, gave her an icy shiver. It wasalmost worse when he conversed with her in a palpable effort at an effectof sympathy. 

She rose and wandered finally to the embankment of the garden. The watershimmered under the full flood of afternoon; she was gazing at thedistance in an aimless manner that had lately fastened on her when sheheard a stirring of the grass behind her and Edward Dunsack approached. He was livid in the pitiless light, and seemed terribly fragile, a thingthat a mere clap of thunder might crumble to nothing; she felt that shecould sweep him away with a broom; yet at the same time there werestartling gleams of inner violence, a bitter energy, an effect ofdeepness, that appalled her. 

"If you should ask me, " he declared, "if my opinion is of any value, I'dsay that Ammidon owed you considerable. He led you to expect somethingbetter than his running away without a word; I'd have an explanation outof him. Of course, if he had come back married--this affair with aChinese woman isn't that--it would be all over. But, somehow, with thingsas they are, I can't believe that it is. "

"Do you expect me to go to their house, like you did?" she repliedresentfully. 

He turned such a malicious face on her that instinctively she moved back. For a moment he was silent, his meager leaden lips drawn tight over darkteeth in a dry grin, his fingers like curved wires; then, relaxing, hecursed the entire house of Ammidon. "The truth is, " he ended, "that youwere a little fool; you had everything, everything, in your hand andthrew it away. " His gaze strayed from her to the surface of the water, ashort distance from the land. "Threw it away, " he repeated; "it can't begot in this country either. "

He was, she thought, crazy. However, all that he said about Gerritlingered in her mind; it fanned to new life the embers of her rebellion. If a chance should come she would let Gerrit Ammidon know something ofthe wrong he had done her. As her uncle had pointed out, the Chinesewoman was different from an American, a white woman. Their entireposition, Gerrit's and her own, was peculiar, outside ordinary judgments. 

She saw him occasionally from a distance, as she must continue to dowhile he was in Salem, since no opportunity had been made for them toexchange words. That must come from Gerrit. 

Her mother called her, and she went in, finding the elder in the kitchen. "I can't get enough heat to bake, " she worried; "you can bear your handright in the oven. Your grandfather won't have his sponge biscuit forsupper. " Nettie declared, "I certainly wouldn't let it bother me. Justtell him and let him say what he likes. " Her mother turned palpablystartled. "But--", she began weakly. 

"I know exactly what you're going to say, " Nettie cut in, "he has itevery night and he'll expect it. How much, I'd like to ask, have youbeen expecting all your life and getting nothing? And now I am thesame. I don't believe we're as wicked as grandfather lets on, and I'mcertain he's not so good as he thinks. I don't admit we are going tohell, either; if I did I can tell you I'd be different. I'd have a goodtime like some other girls I see. I guess it would be good, anyhow, with silk flounces four yards around. I'm what I am because I don'tlisten to him; I don't pay any attention to the pious old women whomake long faces at us. "

"You mustn't talk like that, Nettie, " her mother protested anxiously. "Ithas a right hard sound. Your grandfather is a very upright religious man. It's proper for those who sin to suffer in this world that they may behumble for the next. "

"I don't want to be humble, " Nettie told her. "The Ammidons aren'thumble. Mrs. Saltonstone isn't. " A pain deepened visibly on the elder'spale countenance. "You mustn't think it doesn't hurt me, Nettie, to--tosee you away from all the pleasure. It tears at my heart dreadful. Thatis part of the punishment. " The girl made a vivid gesture, "But you sitback and take it!" she cried. "You talk of it as punishment. I won't! Iwon't! I'm going to do something different. "

"What?" her mother demanded, terrified. 

"I don't know, " Nettie admitted. "But if I had it to do over I'd kissGerrit Ammidon as soon as he looked for it. "

"Nettie, do you--do you think he wanted to marry you?"

"Yes, " she answered shortly. "He's like that. Whatever you might sayagainst him he's honest. "

Her mother began to cry, large slow tears that rolled out of her eyeswithout a sound. She sat with lax hopeless hands in her lap of cheap worndress stuff. Nettie Vollar felt no impulse toward crying; she was brightwith anger--anger at what Barzil Dunsack had done with her mother, at theharm he had worked in her. "You are a saint compared to Uncle Edward, "she asserted. "I don't know what's wrong with him, but there issomething. "

"I've noticed it too: times his eyes are glazed like, and then hisstaring at you like a cat. It's a fact he doesn't eat right, and heforgets what's said as soon as a body speaks. Might he have some Chinesedisease, do you think?"

"It's not like a real sickness.... "

The evening in the dreary sitting room with only the reddish illuminationof one lamp was almost unendurable. Her grandfather sat with broad wastedhands gripping his shrunken knees, his eyes gazing stonily out above anose netted with fine blue veins and harsh mouth almost concealed by thecurtain of beard. Edward rose uneasily and returned, casting a swellingand diminishing shadow--obscurely unnatural like himself--over the fadedand weather-stained wall paper. Her mother was bowed, speechless. Nettiewanted to scream, to horrify them all with some outrageous remark. Shewould have liked to knock the lamp from the table, send it crashing overthe floor, and see the flames spread out, consume the house, consume... She stopped, horrified at her thoughts. 

She didn't want things like that in her mind, she continued, but the echoof dancing, of music, of the Salem Band marching up Essex Street with Mr. Morse playing his celebrated silvery fanfare on the bugle. She wanted tolaugh, to talk, yes--to love. Why, she was young, barely twenty-one; andhere she was in a house like the old cemetery on Charter Street. Beforethey went to bed her grandfather would read out from the Bible, butalways the Old Testament. Finally he rose and secured the volume, boundin dusty calf, its pages brown along the edges. His voice rang in a slowemphasized fervor:

"'Hast thou not procured this unto thyself, in that thou hast forsakenthe Lord, thy God, when he led thee by the way?

"'And now what hast thou to do in the way of Egypt, to drink the watersof Sihor? or what hast thou to do in the way of Assyria, to drink thewaters of the river?

"'Thine own wickedness shall correct thee, and thy backslidings shallreprove thee; know therefore and see that it is an evil thing and bitter, that thou hast forsaken the Lord thy God, and that my fear is not inthee, saith the Lord God of hosts. 

"'For of old I have broken thy yoke, and burst thy bonds; and thousaidst, I will not transgress; when upon every high hill and under everygreen tree thou wanderest, playing the harlot. 

"'Yet I had planted thee a noble vine, wholly a right seed: how then artthou turned into the degenerate plant of a strange vine unto me?

"'For though thou wash thee with nitre--'"

Nettie was impressed, intimidated, in spite of the contrary resolution inthe kitchen: the words seemed to burn into her mother, herself, likeboiling fat from a pan; and a great relief flooded her when she couldescape again to the temporary relief of her room. It was hot, the windowswere up, and she made no light that might attract mosquitoes or force herto draw the close shades. She stood undressed luxuriating in the sense offreedom of body. She was richly white in the gloom: her full young beautygave her a feeling of contentment and strength, and, equally, a greatloneliness. It wasn't corrupt, a "degenerate plant, " she thought with apassionate conviction like a cry. 

She determined to say no prayer to such a ruthless Being; yet, soonafter, in her coarse nightgown, she found herself kneeling by the bedwith hard-clasped hands. It was a prayer for which Barzil Dunsack wouldhave had nothing but condemnation: she implored the dark, the mystery ofAugustness, for carnal and light things, yes--for waltzes and quadrillesand songs and pleasure, young pleasure, all the aching desires of herhealth and spirit and nature and years; but most for love. She said thelast blindly, in an instinct without definition, with the feeling that itwas the key, the door, to everything else; and in her mind rose the imageof Gerrit Ammidon. She saw his firm direct countenance, the frosty blueeyes and human warmth. He needn't have come at all, she added, if it hadbeen only to double the dreariness of her existence. 

She wondered a little, her emotion subsiding, at the interest her uncleshowed in her affairs. It wasn't like what else she had gathered of him;and she searched, but without success, for any hidden reason he mighthave. He actively blackened the name of Ammidon while he was lost in toogreat an indifference to be moved by any but extraordinary pressures. Everything left his mind, as her mother had said, almost immediately. Suddenly weary, she gave up all effort at understanding. 

A wind moved in from the sea, fluttering the light curtains, and broughther a sense of coolness and release. It came from the immense free sweepof ocean to which her sinking consciousness turned in peacefulrecognition and surrender. 

Altogether, in the days that followed, she realized a greater degree ofmental freedom than before her revolt. She had removed herself, itappeared, a little outside the family, almost as if she were studyingthem calmly through a window: a large part of the terror her grandfatherhad possessed for her had disappeared, leaving for her recognition avery old and worn man; she was sorry for her mother with a deepaffection mixed with impatience. At first she had tried to put somethingof her own revived spirit in the older woman but it was like pouringwater into a cracked glass: her mother was too utterly broken to holdany resolution whatever. 

Nettie's feeling for Edward Dunsack became an instinctive deep distrust. It was almost impossible for her to remain when--as he so often didnow--he approached her to talk about the injustice of her mode of lifeand the debt Gerrit Ammidon owed her. He would stand with his fingerstwitching, talking in a rapid sharp voice, blinking continuously againstany light brighter than that of a shaded room or dusk. He seldom left theoffice or went out through the day; his place at the dinner table was farmore often empty than not. But after their early supper, in the long lateJune twilights, he had an inexhaustible desire for her to stroll withhim. She occasionally agreed for the reason that they invariably passedin the vicinity of Washington Square and Pleasant Street, and saw theimpressive block of the Ammidon mansion. However, they never met any ofits inmates. Once they had walked directly by the entrance; some girls, perhaps a woman, certainly two men, were grouped in the doorway: it wasgrowing dark and Nettie couldn't be certain. 

Edward Dunsack clearly hesitated before the bricks leading in between thehigh white fence posts topped with carved twisting flames; and, in asudden agony at the possibility of his stopping, Nettie hurried on, hercheeks flaming and her heart, she thought, thumping in her throat. 

Her uncle followed her. There was a trail of intimate merriment from theportico, a man's voice mingling gayly with those of the girls. "That wasthe Brevard who's in the Mongolian Marine Insurance Company, " EdwardDunsack informed her. "I hear he's a great hand for leading cotillionsand balls--the balls you ought to take part in. " On and on he went withthe familiar recital of her wrongs. It carried them all the way overPleasant and Essex and Derby Streets home. The next day, however, he wasforced to go about the town, and returned for dinner in a state ofexcitement evident to anyone. 

He ate without attention whatever was before him, and extravagantlypleasant, related how he had conversed with Mrs. Gerrit Ammidon in thefamily carriage in front of the countinghouse of Ammidon, Ammidon andSaltonstone on Liberty Street. Nettie was surprised that his concern wascaused by such a commonplace event. "The women of China--. " Words failinghim, he waved a thin dry hand. His father frowned heavily. Then, abruptly, as if he had been snatched out of his chair by an invisiblepowerful clutch, he started up and disappeared. 

The afternoon passed the full and Nettie, bound in preparation for supperfor Redmond's, the Virginia Oysterman's at Derby Wharf, stood waiting forsome money. "I can't think where I left my reticule, " her mother called, "unless it's in Edward's room where I cleaned this morning. Just run upand see.... He'll be at the office. "

Above, Nettie found the door closed, but it opened readily as she turnedthe knob: she went in without hesitation. The interior she naturallythought was empty; and then, with an unreasoning cold fear, she saw thatEdward Dunsack was lying on the bed. Some of his clothes were tumbled onthe floor, and he wore his black Chinese gown. The room was permeatedwith a heavy smooth odor; on a stand at her uncle's hand was a curiouscollection of strange objects--a little brass lamp with a flickeringbluish flame, a black and silver object like a swollen unnatural pipe, stained bodkins, a lump of what she took to be tar--

Her attention was caught by Edward Dunsack's face: it had fallen backwith his pinched chin pointing toward the ceiling, it was the color ofyellow clay, and through his half-opened eyelids was an empty glimmer ofgray-white. She shrank away involuntarily, and the word "Dead" formedjust audibly on her trembling lips. In an instant she was in the hall, calling in a panic-stricken voice, her icy hands at her throat; and hergrandfather mounted the stair with surprising agility, followed by hisdaughter Kate. 

"Uncle Edward, " Nettie articulated, waving toward the room from which shehad fled. The two women followed the rigid advance of Barzil Dunsack. Ashe saw the figure of his son there was a stabbing gasp of his breath. Hehalted for a moment, and it seemed to Nettie Vollar that suddenly hisdetermined carriage crumbled, his shoulders sagged; then he went forward. The bed had high slender posts that at one time supported a canopy, butnow they were bare, and an old hand held to one as he bent over. 

"Is he dead?" the older woman asked. 

Barzil Dunsack made no immediate reply; his gaze turned from his son tothe stand, the fluttering lamp and its accessories. His head moved slowlyin the act of sniffing the pungent haze swimming in the interior. Nettiecould see his face, and she was appalled by an, expression grimmer thanany she remembered; it was both harsh, implacable, and stricken, as emptyof blood as the countenance on the bed. The hand on the post tighteneduntil it, too, was linen white. She drew close to her mother's side, putting a supporting arm about the soft shaking shoulders. 

"No, " said Barzil Dunsack, in a booming voice, "not dead, and yet deadforever. Go downstairs, " he commanded. They backed confused to the door. "If Edward is sick--" Kate Vollar began. The old man's face blazed withintolerable pain and anger. 

"Woman, " he demanded, "can you cure what God has smitten?" His eyesalone, hard and bright in the seamed and hairy face, drove them out intothe hall. Below in the sitting room Nettie exclaimed, "He might have toldus something!"

"Whatever it is, " her mother returned, "it's dreadful bad. I've felt thatall along about Edward; he's never been himself this last time. "Mechanically she found her reticule beside the painted ostrich egg fromAfrica. "You'll have to get the oysters anyhow, " she told her daughter, maintaining the inevitable pressure of small necessities that defied alltragedy and death. 

Nettie escaped with an enormous relief into the sunny normal tranquilityof the afternoon. The house had become too horrible to bear; and even onthe thronged length of Derby Wharf, like a street robbed of its supportsand thrust out into the harbor, she was followed by the vision of EdwardDunsack's peaked clayey face. 

She got the oysters, and in an overwhelming reluctance to return walkedout to the end of the wharf, where a ship was discharging hercargo--heavy plaited mats of cassia with a delicate scent, red and blueslabs of marble, baskets of granular cakes of gray camphor, rough brownlogs of teak, smooth dull yellow rolls of gamboge, bags with sharpconflicting odors, baled silks and half chests of tea wrapped in bamboosand matting painted with the ship's name, _Rose and Rosalie_. 

There Nettie found herself beside a little girl clasping the hand of abulky old gentleman in pongee and a palm leaf hat and following everyoperation with a grave critical regard. "I guess, " she said to hercompanion, "it's only the cheap sort of tea, a late picking, or it wouldbe in canisters. " She was, Nettie realized, the youngest Ammidon childwith her grand-father. The latter looked round and recognized NettieVollar. "How's Barzil Dunsack?" he asked immediately. 

She was at a loss for an answer, since she could not describe the subjectof the inquiry as all right nor explain their unhappy condition. "Intendto stop in, " Jeremy Ammidon continued; "last time I was there I went uplike a rocket. " Laurel--that was the child's name, she remembered--gazedat her intently. "I was saying to grandfather, " she repeated precisely, "that this wasn't really much of a cargo. Nothing like the one UncleGerrit brought back in the Nautilus. We were having an argument aboutSalem too. But, of course, all the big cargoes are going into Boston, "she sturdily confronted the flushed old man. 

"You're William all over again, " he asserted, almost annoyed. Both theirexpressions grew stubborn in a manner that, in view of their greatdifference in age and experience, Nettie thought quite absurd. What abeautiful dress the child had on--Porto Rico drawn work, with pale yellowribbons to her bonnet. "I wish you'd stay here a minute with NettieVollar, " Jeremy told her, "while I see the wharfinger. " He went unhurriedalong the wharf, and Laurel Ammidon drew closer to her. 

"She's not much of a ship either, " Laurel said, indicating the _Rose andRosalie_. "She's built like--like grandfather. They're different now. Iwent to New York to see the _Sea Witch_ launched, and she's the tallestvessel afloat, with three standing skysail yards and, ringtail and watersails. She's black and has a gilded dragon for a figurehead; and, although she went out in a gale, got to Rio in twenty-five days. I talkedto Captain Waterman, too; he commanded the _Natchez_, you know. "

How the child ran on! "You've studied a lot on, ships, " Nettie commented. "I know the main truck from a jewel block, " Laurel replied complacently. "But Camilla's a frightful lubber. I should think she'd make Uncle Gerritsick. She does me. " Nettie Vollar was seized by the temptation toquestion Laurel about Gerrit Ammidon, about his wife--anything thattouched or concerned him. A wave of emotion swept over her, a lonelinessand a desire the cause of which she would not face. She wanted to takeLaurel's hand in hers, and with the old ponderous comfortable gentlemango up to the serenity of their gardens and wide happy house. She wantedGerrit Ammidon to smile at her with his eyes blue like a fair sea... Hisfather was returning. 

Laurel again grasped the large hand and they turned to leave. JeremyAmmidon nodded to Nettie. Nothing remained for her but the place on HardyStreet; then she saw that the others had stopped and were signaling forher. "Captain Dunsack... Old friend, " the elder said abruptly. "Stubbornas the devil. No worse than me, though, no worse than me. Confoundedproud, too. You let me know if there is anything, that is, if you need--"he paused, breathing stormily, glaring at her in an assumed angryimpatience. 

"Thank you, " she answered, "but there's nothing. "

What most shocked her on the return home was the manner in which theirlife callously continued when she felt it should have been shattered bytheir suffering in Edward Dunsack's room; yet not so much theirs as hergrandfather's. He took his place at the head of the table, the grace wentup as loudly as ever above their heads; but in spite of that she saw thatthe old man suddenly looked infinitely spent. His knife slippedinsecurely and scraped against the plate in fumbling and palsied hands. All at once she had a feeling of gazing straight into his heart, andfinding--like a burning ruby hidden in earth--such an agony beneath hisschooled exterior that she choked thinking about it. 

Nettie wondered what he would do if she put an affectionate arm about hisneck and told him of their sympathy. She knew now that her Uncle Edwardhad been smoking opium, and that it was a worse vice, more hopeless anddestructive, than drink. But she was certain that he'd repel her; helooked on them all, Edward Dunsack, her mother and herself, as sinful, "degenerate plants. " Even now, she realized, there was no weakening ofhis spiritual fibers such as had plainly overtaken his physical being. Hehad a blasting contempt for the unrighteous flesh. 

When they had risen from the table, Edward Dunsack appeared and sinkingweakly into a chair demanded a cup of tea. He knew nothing of theirdiscovery, of the fact that they had stood above his revoltinginsensibility. After the tea he seemed to revive; he lighted a cherootand said something about going out. It wasn't possible, however; hisknees sagged walking the length of the floor; in the sitting room he fellinto a leaden apathy. Nettie Vollar's gaze rested on the volume of thelife of the missionary who had died at such an early age on the Île deFrance. The lamplight spread over the depressing mustard yellow paint ofthe woodwork with its obviously false graining and deepened the blacknessof the fireplace. Throughout the reading of the Scripture Edward Dunsacknever shifted his slumped position; his face, with smudged closed eyes, seemed fixed in a skeptical smile. The hollows of his temples were green. The reading finished, old Barzil said:

"I wish to speak to Edward alone. "

The latter straightened up. "Eh!" he exclaimed. "What?" He resettled hisstock and crossed a knee with a show of ease. Nettie followed her motherfrom the room. Her last impression was that of a startling resemblancebetween the young man and old--her uncle's face was as ruined as theother's--between father and son. "I wish he'd go away, " her mothersurprisingly asserted; "I won't sleep for thinking of him lying therelike a corpse. "

"He'll not, " Nettie replied, musing; "something is holding him we stilldon't know of. "

She had lately begun to realize a great many things of which only a monthbefore she had not been aware--that sudden illuminating grasp of oldBarzil's inner pain, of her mother's wasted spirit, and the sense thatsome unguessed potent motive was at the back of her Uncle Edward'sapparently erratic strolling and reiterations. Nettie stopped to wonder alittle at the change in herself: she was more alive, more included. Therewere no reasons that she could see why this should be so; never had thepresent, the entire future, been darker. With her deeper consciousness, too, came an increased shrinking from life, a greater capacity forinjury; and there could be no doubt that it was an older Nettie Vollarwho, in her mirror, returned the questioning in the resentful black eyes. 

No further mention was made of the opium, no hint escaped from the twomen of what Barzil Dunsack had said to his son after the eveningreading of the Bible. An evidence of the miserable episode was visiblefor a while in the difficulty of any attempted general conversation;then that died away and everything was seemingly as it had been before. But the rising gayety and widespread public preparations at theapproach of the Fourth of July made her existence drabber than ever. There was, too, unusual planning, for later in the month President Polkwas to be in Salem. 

The various military organizations drilled incessantly: the Salem LightInfantry, the Mechanic Light Infantry, the Salem Cadets and Independentsand a squad of the Salem Artillery might be seen at any hour of themorning or early evening smartly marching and countermarching, led byFlag's or the Salem Band. Strange constructions of light wood climbed inWashington Square--the set pieces of the celebrated pyrotechnist securedat a "staggering expense. " Preliminary strings of firecrackers wereexploded by impatient boys and the dawn of the holiday was greeted with asustained uproar of powder. 

All this was communicated to Nettie in the form of a determination toforget the dreariness of home and for once anyhow be a part of thecareless holiday town. Edward Dunsack opened the day by deprecating whatfireworks Salem could show and recalling the extravagant art of China inthat particular. No one, he said, of the least moment would be abroad inthe rabble; and he intended to spend the day over the invoice of aschooner returned from Curaçao. She was glad of this, for it left herfree to get an uninterrupted pleasure from the morning parade, the floatsand fantasies, the afternoon drilling in Washington Square, and see thelast colored disk of the fireworks. Maybe, she told herself, tying thebecoming ribbon of her bonnet beneath a round chin with a lurking dimple, maybe she wouldn't come back home once during the entire day! Sheignored, in the rush of her spirits, even her mother's lonely labors: foronce they'd have to do without her. Nettie took a scarlet merino shawlfor the cooler evening, shook forward the little black curls about herface, and hurried away from Hardy Street. 

She was swept along in the crowd on Essex Street until, before the officeof the Salem _Register_, she found a place that commanded the parade. There Nettie lost all memory of the dreariness that pressed upon her; shebecame one of the throng, applauding the members of the East India MarineSociety carrying the palanquin from the Museum in native dress, or stoodwith sentimental tears blurring her vision. The parade ended, andcurrents of people swept toward dinner; but she stopped at a baker's andgot a paper of seed cakes, made in the shape of oak leaves and satcontentedly eating them in the Common. 

The thought of Gerritt Ammidon, with all the other deeper aspects of herlife, was thrust into the back of her consciousness; she was existing asshe breathed--without will; the instinctive lighter qualities had her infull possession. She felt that her cheeks were glowing and hummed therefrains of the music she had heard. One by one the military companiesmarched into the Square. She was fascinated by the tall leather helmetsand silver straps under severe young lips. The Newburyport men were in anew scarlet uniform, that was the Boston Brass Band--it was painted onthe bass drum--with the Independents; there were the Beverly TaylorGuards. The massed onlookers filled the broad plain. 

The drilling and countermarching proceeded and the afternoon waned. Atthe disposal of the spectacle, when for an hour or two Washington Squarewas comparatively deserted, when the sun sank lower and lower over theroofs of Brown Street and the gold haze thickened, turning to blue, Nettie became quieter but no less happy. The time sped; never was sheconscious of being lonely, by herself in a multitude composed of groupedfamilies and friends. It was all such a beautiful relief to the otherconstant dwelling on somber and hopeless facts! Already people werestreaming in under the wooden arched gates for the evening display;already she could see a star in the clear-shining green east. 

The fireworks, the papers said, were to be in two parts, ending with abombardment of Vera Cruz, five hundred feet long, and a series oftriumphant arches with full-length portraits in colored lights ofcelebrated Americans. There was a sudden salute of artillery, and aflight of rockets soared upward in long flaming curves, dissolving inshowers of liquid emerald and ruby and silver against the night. Bengolalights casting a blue glare over the standing mob and farther housefronts were followed by a great Peruvian Cross, a silvery fountain ofwater and Grand Representation of Bunker Hill Monument. 

With this the first came all too soon to an end, and Nettie was foldingthe shawl about her shoulders when almost the entire Ammidon family wereupon her.... In an instinctive confusion she saw William Ammidon and hiswife with their daughters, the old man, Jeremy, and Gerrit. 

They stopped before her in an assured, not unkindly inquisitiveness, thegirls fresh and bright-faced, with crisp lovely clothes; their mother, ina smart mantle and little bonnet with knots of French flowers, greetedher with a direct question tempered by a smile. William Ammidon, smoking, was unconcerned; while Gerrit stayed obscured outside the group. "Whomare you with, Nettie?" Rhoda Ammidon asked; and when she admitted thatshe was alone the elder, with visible disapproval, asserted:

"That won't do at all in this rough assembly. I must see that you aretaken care of. " She hesitated, with a slight frown on her handsome brow. "But you will want to see the rest of the fireworks. Yes, what you mustdo is to come over to our steps, the view from there is fairly good, andthen some one can walk home with you. "

They moved resolutely forward, giving Nettie Vollar no opportunity forprotest, the expression of what she might prefer; and, with so manydetermined minds, she dropped silently into their progress. She wasbeside Rhoda Ammidon, the girls trooped on before, and the men--GerritAmmidon--followed. Her peace of mind had been broken into a hundredhalf-formed doubts and acute questions. She wished that she had declinedto go with them: the invitation, no, command, had been a criticism, really. Now, after so long, it wasn't necessary for them to becomesuddenly responsible for her. 

The happiness of the day sank a little, thoughts of her mother andgrandfather and Uncle Edward returned. But, at the same time, sherealized that she was near Gerrit once more. This made a confusion of heremotions that hid what she most felt about him. It wasn't a proximitythat meant anything, however; it had been utterly different when he cameto see her before his marriage. Yet, just the fact of his being closebehind her, and that she would be on the steps at the Ammidons' with him, undoubtedly had a power to stir her heart. 

It brought, like her carefree excursion, a certain momentary glow, awarmth, without relation to what had gone before or might follow; therewas the same quality of momentary rest, refreshment, complete andisolated as a jewel in a ring. She didn't analyze it further; but driftedwith the vigorous chattering tide of the Ammidons. 

They arrived at the impressive entrance open on a high dim interior. Jeremy and William Ammidon went in, Rhoda lingered while a chair wasbrought for her, and Sidsall and Camilla, Laurel and Janet rangedthemselves facing the Square. Gerrit hung silent in the doorway. 

"Perhaps Taou Yuen will come down, " Rhoda Ammidon suggested, and Nettie'sthroat was pinched at the possibility of seeing Gerrit's Chinese wife. But he answered shortly in the negative. Taou Yuen preferred to stay inher room; the view from her window was better than this. The latter waseasily possible, for here the set pieces were almost unintelligible: animpressive beehive could be seen surrounded by swarming golden bees, apyramid of Roman candles discharged their rushes of colored balls andstreamers; but the bombardment of Vera Cruz was a cause of bittercomplaint to the children. 

The fireworks had ceased to have the slightest significance for Nettie;she was luxuriating in the suavity of the Ammidon steps and company. Itseemed to her that an actual air of ease rolled out over her from within. Seen from her place of vantage the great throng in the Square was withoutfeature, the passersby on Pleasant Street--as Edward Dunsack and herselfhad been--were unimportant. The massive portico and dignified fence, thesense of spaciousness and gardens and lofty formal ceilings, the feelingof fine silks and round clear direct voices, of servants for everything, everyone, transcended in force all her speculations. She wasfamiliar--who wasn't in Salem?--with the meaning of the house's name, Java Head. It was more, quite heaven. 

Thoughts of Gerrit winged in and out of her mind like wayward birds. Sheturned with studied caution and glanced swiftly but intently at as muchof his countenance as she could see. Her memory vividly supplied therest. There wasn't another like it--one so clear and compelling toread--in the world. 

The past in which he had had a part seemed like an impossibly happydream. She was hardly able to believe that he had been in their sittingroom, walked with her in the evening to the grassy edge of the harbor, or held her fingers in his hard cool grasp. Now she wondered if he werecontented. She couldn't quite decide from glimpses of his face; butsomething that had nothing to do with vision disturbed her with thecertainty that he was troubled. It might mean unhappiness, but shewasn't sure. 

"Now there go the arches!" a young voice exclaimed, "and I just can't seeanything. You'd never know at all it was a temple of eight columns. Oh, look--there's a number coming out, 'July fourth, seventeen seventy-six. '"A tide of hand clapping swept over the dark masses. "No, " Laurelcontinued, "that's Salem.... It's Washington, no, General Taylor. "

The amazing day, Nettie realized, was over, the people flowed backthrough the gates like a lake breaking in streams from its bank; therewas a stir on the steps. Looking up she saw that the stars were obscured, and a low rumble of thunder sounded from a distance, a flash lit thehorizon. Now she must go back, return to Hardy Street, to her bittergrandfather like an iron statue eaten by rust and storms, to EdwardDunsack following her with his dragging feet and thin insinuating voice, to her hopeless mother. 

"It's the powder, " she heard, about what she had no conception. RhodaAmmidon turned decidedly to her. "It was nice to have you, Nettie, " shedeclared; "but we must see about getting you safely home. The carriagewould be best since it's threatening rain. " She didn't, she replied, wantto give them so much bother, she often went on errands after supper, she'd, be all right--

"Nonsense, " Mrs. Ammidon interrupted impatiently. Then Gerrit advancedfrom the doorway. "I'll walk down with her, " he said almost roughly. "Noneed to take the horses out so late. " Nettie Vollar thought that hissister-in-law's mouth tightened in protest, but he gave them no chancefor further argument. He descended the steps with a quick grinding tread, and she was forced to hurry through her acknowledgments in order toovertake him. 

The night at once absorbed them. 

The air, charged with the fumes of gunpowder and rumbling with lowintermittent thunder, was oppressive and disturbing. Gerrit's head wasexactly opposite her own, and she could see his profile, pale and still, moving on a changing dark background. He walked with the short firmstride men acquire on the unsteady decks of vessels, swinging his armsbut slightly. Neither spoke. The rain, Nettie saw, was hanging off;probably it would not reach Salem, Washington Square was already emptyexcept for a small obscure stir by the scaffolding for the fireworks. Amurmur of young voices came from a door on Bath Street. Such minuteobservations filled her mind; beneath their surface she was conscious ofa deep, a fathomless, turmoil. It was a curious sensation, curiousbecause she couldn't tell whether it was happiness or misery. One nowexactly resembled the other to Nettie Vollar. 

She grasped, however, one difference--it was happiness now, the miserybelonged to tomorrow. But suddenly that last unrealized fact--at onceimmaterial and the most leaden reality of all--lost its weight. Thegreater freedom she had lately grown into became an absoluteindifference, a half willful and half automatic shutting of her eyes toeverything but the present, the actuality of Gerrit Ammidon walking byher side. She wanted him to speak, so that she could discover histhoughts, feelings; yet she was reluctant to have their companionship ofsilence broken: words, almost all the possible terms she could imagine, would only emphasize the distance between them. 

She was thinking of one now--a word he had never pronounced, but whichshe felt had been, however obscurely, at the back of the attention hehad paid her: love. It was a queer thing. It seemed to be--everyoneagreed that it was--of the greatest, perhaps the first, importance; andyet all sorts of other considerations, some insignificant and othersmean and more, yes--cowardly, held it in check, drove it back out ofsight, as you might hurriedly shut some shabby object into a closet atthe arrival of visitors. 

"How have you been?" he demanded in the abrupt voice of the expression ofhis determination to see her home. Well enough, she assured him, if hemeant her health. He glanced at her with somber eyes. "Not altogether, "he admitted; "it included your family, things generally. "

"They are as bad as possible, " she told him. She admitted this frankly, apart of her entire surrender to the moment, careless of how it mightaffect him. "They would be, " he muttered savagely. "It's a habit ... Here. " The "here, " she knew, referred to life on shore; his gloomyattitude toward the management and affairs of the land had caused her agreat deal of precious laughter. He had revealed a most astonishingignorance of necessities that she had understood instinctively whenhardly more than a child; and this simplicity had, as much as anything, brought her affection for him to life. At the same time she in particularhad felt the justice of a great many of his charges. But no one couldreasonably hope for the sort of world--a world as orderly and trim asthat of a narrow ship--he thought should be brought about by a merecommand. Nettie wished that it could! She sighed, gazing at him. 

"Then it's no better than before?" he asked, adding, with a descriptivegesture: "the town and people?"

"I hardly speak to ten in a year, outside the stores and like that. Ofcourse they nod going into church, or a lady, I mean really, yoursister-in-law, will say something nice, even do what you saw to-night. Though it's the first time anything like that has happened. "

She caught a repressed bitter oath. 

"I suppose I'll get used to it, " she continued. "No, I won't, " she addeddifferently; "never, never, never. "

"If you were a man now--" he said with an incredible stupidity. 

She wondered angrily if he'd rather have her a man; there had been atime, Nettie reflected, when such a possibility would have stirred him toviolent protest. And this brought out the reflection that, while at onetime he might have cared for her, now perhaps he was merely sorry for herunhappiness. Yes, this must be it. She had a momentary fatal impulse tothrow back at him scornfully any such small kindness. She didn't, shetold herself, want condescending sympathy. What silenced her was thesudden knowledge that she did; she wanted anything whatsoever from GerritAmmidon. The fact that he had a Chinese wife was powerless to alter herfeeling in the smallest degree. On the contrary, she was shocked to findthat it had increased immensely, it was growing with every minute. 

She wondered drearily if her stubborn love--the term took its placewithout remark in the procession of her thoughts--for Gerrit didn't, inspite of her protest to the contrary, stamp her as quite bad. Perhapsher grandfather was right about them all--her mother and Uncle Edwardand herself, and they were wicked, lost! The energy with which she hadcombated this charge now faced by the circumstance of her realizedaffection for a man married to some one else, even Chinese, wavered. All the cheerful influences of the day, rising to the supreme tranquilhour on the Ammidon porch, sank to dejection; it was like the flight ofthe rockets. 

She walked listlessly, her brain was numb; she was terribly tired. GerritAmmidon's head was bent and she was unable to see his expression. Hemight even have forgotten, by the token of his self-absorbed progress, that she was at his side. 

"There's going to be a stir in Ammidon, Ammidon and Saltonstone, " he saidpresently, "when my father hears of the new program. Everything isturning to the fastest California runs possible. William and JamesSaltonstone want me to take command of a clipper. But I find I'm like myfather, Nettie; all my experience has been in the East and the Chinaservice. I'm used to it. I'd never get on navigating a passenger boat, apacket ship, from Boston to San Francisco and San Francisco to Boston. The other's in my blood, too--running the northeast trades to Brazil andcoming up into the southwest passage winds for the Cape of Good Hope. Along reach nearly to Australia and then north again to the Indian Oceanand southeast trades. 

"I'm fit for that, for long voyages, a blue-water sailor and all itmeans; but battering back and forward round the Horn with my deckcluttered up by prospectors and shore crews the mates would have to slaminto the rigging--!" His exclamation refused every face of such apossibility. She understood his necessity completely; and the briefaccount of such far happy journeys, safe from everything that Salem hadcome to mean for her, filled her with longing. 

"I'm beginning to see, " he took up again the self-examination, "that I amto blame for a good deal that I've found fault with in others. I meanthat I'm a different variety of animal, and, naturally, no judge of thekinds of holes they live in or the way their affairs are managed. "

"You are worlds better!" she cried. 

He turned to her, obviously startled, and she held for a long breath hisunguarded intense gaze. "Not very useful, I am afraid, " he replied atlast; "not today, anyhow. I belong to a life that is dying, Nettie; markmy words, dying if not already dead. And I'm newfangled to my father. Itgoes as quickly as that. "

This was a fresh mood to all her knowledge of his impatient arrogance, and one that sent her to him in a passionate unperceived emotion. Theyhad arrived at her home and were waiting aimless and silent. Beyond, thegate to the yard was standing open, and Nettie saw that his discovery ofthe fact had occurred at the identical moment of her own. She made aninvoluntary movement forward and he followed her through to the blurredtangle of bushes and bare trodden earth. Mutely they turned to the sodspread at the harbor. 

The thunder had died away, but pale sheets of reflected lightning hoveredat short intervals low in the sky. Directly above them stars shone again. The window of the sitting room still bore the illumination of the lampwithin; and Nettie could picture her mother, with stained and rough handsloose on their wrists, opposite Barzil Dunsack's gaunt set countenance. 

"You said something about things as bad as possible. "

In a level voice she told him about her discovery of Edward Dunsackunconscious in his black wrap on the bed. "I thought he had died, " sherepeated almost monotonously; "he had such a yellow gone look. "

"But that can't be allowed!" he cried. "You mustn't see it. Indecent, worse. The beast will have to be removed. No one will hear of his stayingabout with two women and a fanatical old man. " She was afraid that hewould go into the house at once and appear with her uncle, very much inthe manner of a dog with a rat. Her sense of a worldly knowledge, aphilosophy of realization, far deeper than his own returned. Thingscouldn't be disposed of in that easy manner; it was probable that theycouldn't be disposed of, righted, at all. Her mother, with her help, mustcontinue to keep Barzil's home: there was no other place for EdwardDunsack to go. "He won't hurt us, " she said vaguely. "It's principallybad for him. Then, at first, I didn't know. You get used to so much. "

He, Gerrit Ammidon, wouldn't have it, he asserted in a heated return ofhis familiar dictatorial manner. The fellow would be out of thereto-morrow. It was a damned unendurable outrage!

She smiled softly and laid a momentary hand on his sleeve. "That'snothing, Gerrit; nothing compared to the rest, to me. " He frowned down ather out of the gloom. 

"What am I to do?" she asked. 

He again cursed Salem and the world with which he had proclaimed himselfout of date and sympathy. This, while it communicated to her a certainwarm comfort, resolved nothing, made no reply to her question. To-morrowoffered precisely the same hopeless outlook of yesterday. No answer fromGerrit, Gerrit married, was possible. She saw that. 

"I'm not fit to go around on land blubbering and setting tongues toclapping, " he declared. "I ought to be locked in my cabin when the ship'sin port, and let out only after sail's made again. "

She heard a slight movement in the grass; and turning sharply caught thevague outline of a man, the thin unsubstantial shape of Edward Dunsack. He vanished immediately; Gerrit, absorbed in bitter thought, had missedhim. Strangely her uncle only filled her mind with the image of China, the China that had ruined him, and which, too, in the form of a woman, aManchu, had destroyed the hope of any acceptable existence of her own. 

"Great pretensions and idiotic results, " he went on; "no ballast. Takewhat your grandfather said to me--nothing in that unexpected or to drivea man off. Yet off I go and--" he halted oddly, just as her breath wassuspended at the admittance which she was certain must follow. But hefell into another glooming silence. 

After all, she couldn't expect him to continue that development. Adifferent man might; and Nettie wasn't sure of her refusal tolisten... To the end. But she was familiar with Gerrit's unbendingconception of the necessity of truth alone. If he married a woman, yellow, black, anything, he would perform, the obligation to the entireboundary of his promise. Good and bad seemed equally united against her. Little flashes of resentment struck through her leaden, conviction thatall this was useless. 

"I must be of some use to you. "

But, Nettie realized, there was only one way in which he could help her;only one thing she wanted--could take--from him. She was terrified at thecompleteness with which love had possessed her, making every other factand consideration of little interest or importance. Suddenly it seemed asif she were being swept by an overwhelming current farther and fartherout from safety into a bottomless immensity that would claim her life. 

"Yet, " he cried, "if I lift a hand, here, in Salem, if I as much as crossthe street to speak to you--the clapping tongues! I can do you nothingbut harm. Though Rhoda might--"

"I don't want your Rhoda!" she interrupted passionately. "I've managedwithout them all up to now. " He raised his arms in a hopeless gesture. "Nothing's to be done, " she concluded. "I saw that all along; that is, this last time. "

"It's late, " he muttered absently; "you have had a day. " He turnedmechanically and moved away from the indefinite black rim of the harbor. The lamp in the sitting room had been extinguished, the house was dark. Abrief embarrassment seized her as he stood trying vainly to findsomething confident, even adequate, to say for farewell. And as the stirof his footfalls died away up Hardy Street the memory of his last futilewords mocked her laboring heart. 

She turned and faced Edward Dunsack, advancing from an obscurity deeperthan the rest. He murmured approvingly, she caught words of commendationand unspeakable reassurance. She hurried away blindly, sick to the inmostdepths of her being. The morning, when she had tied her gay bonnetribbons and started out with the scarlet merino shawl on her arm, seemedto belong to a long, long time ago, to a girl.... The popping of a finalstring of firecrackers died outside. 

VIII

The dejection, the sense of a difference that held from him anycomprehension of the vast maze of shore life, persisted as Gerrit Ammidonwalked toward home. It was such an unusual feeling that he was consciousof it; he examined and speculated upon his despondency as if it had beensomething actually before him. The result of this was a still increaseddisturbance. He didn't like such strange qualities arbitrarily forcingtheir way into his being--he had the navigator's necessity for a clearunderstanding of the combined elements within and without which resultedin a harmonious, or at least predictable, movement. He distrusted allfogs. In a manner the course before him was plain--married to Taou Yuen, shipmaster in his family's firm, he had simple duties to perform, no partof which included sailing in strange or dangerous waters; yet though thiswas beyond argument he was still troubled by a great number of unpleasantconditions of mind and obscure pressures. 

Gradually, however, his normal indignation returned, the contempt for asociety without perceptible justice, centered principally in what NettieVollar had had from life. This, he assured himself, wasn't because he wasin any way involved with her; but because it was such a flagrant case. She was a very nice girl. It was entirely allowable that he should admitthat. As a fact, he warmly felt that he was her friend; the pastjustified, no, insisted on, that at least. He wondered exactly how fondhe had been of her--in other words, how near he had come to marrying her. It had been an obvious possibility, decidedly; but the desire had neverbecome actual. No, his feeling for her had never broken the bounds of anatural liking and a desire to secure decent treatment for her. The lasthad been vain. 

If his mental searching had ended there it would have presented nodifficulties, created no fog; but, unfortunately, there was anotherelement which he admitted with great reluctance, an inborn discomfort. Although he had been clear about what had actually happened with Nettiethere was reasonable doubt that the same limitations had operated withher. Briefly she had missed him more than he had realized. He explainedthis to his sense of innate masculine diffidence by the loneliness of herdays. She had missed him.... Something within whispered that she stilldid. Women, he remembered hearing, were like that. 

In the light, the possibility, of this he saw that he had done her agreat wrong. 

It had been his damned headlong ignorance of the dangerous quality oflife, the irresponsibility of a child with gunpowder. With all this inhis mind it seemed doubly imperative that he should do something for her;he owed her, he was forced to admit, more than a mere impersonalconsideration. His thoughts returned unbidden to the fact that she--shehad liked him. He insisted almost angrily on the past tense, but itsurprised him and gave him a perceptible warm glow. Nettie was verypleasing: he inferred that she was a creature of deep emotions, affections. 

At this he shook himself abruptly--such things were not permissible. Gerrit felt a swift sense of shame; they injured Nettie. His mind shiftedto Taou Yuen. He found her asleep on the day bed she preferred, herelaborate headdress resting above the narrow pillow of black wicker. Hecould distinguish her face, pallid in the blue gloom, and a delicate, half-shut hand. He was flooded with the intense admiration whichincreasingly formed his chief thought of her; this, with the obviousracial difference, put her, as it were, on an elevation--a beautifullylacquered vase above his own blundering person. She was calm, serious andgood, in the absolute Western definitions of those terms; she had heremotions under faultless control. Taou Yuen should be an ideal wife forany man; she was, he corrected the form sharply. All that he knew of herwas admirable; the part which constantly baffled him didn't touch theirrelationship. 

It was reasonable to expect small differences between her and Salem: attimes her calm chilled him by a swift glimpse of utter coldness, at timeshe would have liked her gravity to melt into something less than ivoryperfection; even her goodness had oppressed him. The last hadn't thehuman quality of, for example, Nettie Vollar's goodness, colored byrebellion, torn by doubt, and yet triumphing. 

If he only understood the three religions of China, if he were anintellectual man, Gerrit realized, he could have grasped his wife morefully. He was completely ignorant of Chinese history, of all the forcesthat had united to form Taou Yuen. For instance: he was unable toreconcile her elevated spirit with the "absurd superstitions" thatinfluenced almost her every act--the enormous number of lucky and unluckydays, the coin hung on his bed, the yellow charm against sickness and redagainst evil spirits; only yesterday she had burnt a paper formrepresenting thunder and drunk its ashes in a cup of tea. She wastremendously in earnest about the evil spirits--they were, shemaintained, lurking everywhere, in all shapes and degrees of harm. EdwardDunsack was possessed, she declared; but he had pointed out that opiumwas a sufficient explanation of anything evil in him, and that it wasunnecessary to look for a more fantastic reason. 

He lay awake for a comparatively long while, as he had several timeslately, divided between his consciousness and the regular breathing ofhis wife. If the past had brought Nettie Vollar to depend on him insome slight degree Taou Yuen did so absolutely: except for him she waslost in a strange world. Yet Taou Yuen didn't seem helpless in themanner of Nettie. He had once before thought of the former as finelytempered metal. Her transcendent resignation, with its consequent lackof sympathetic contact with the imperfect humanity of--well, Nettie, gave Taou Yuen a dangerous freedom from all that bound Salem incomparative safety. 

He dressed first, as usual, in the morning, while she stirred only enoughto get her pipe and tobacco, on the floor at her side. Outside, the elmswere losing their fresh greenness in the dusty film of midsummer; theSquare held an ugly litter from the fireworks of last evening. William, too, was about, but he was uncommunicative, his brow scored in a frown. Their father, always down before the others, had returned from theinspection of his trees, and was tramping back and forth in the library. The elder seemed unrested by the night, his skin, as Rhoda had pointedout, was baggy. 

"Now that the _Nautilus_ is afloat again, " Jeremy Ammidon said, "you'llwant to be at sea. " Examining this natural conclusion, Gerrit wassurprised, startled, to find that it was no longer true. For the firsttime in his memory he was not anxious to be under sail. This of coursewas caused by a natural perplexity about Taou Yuen's comfort andhappiness. 

"I don't know what the firm's plans are for me, " he answered cautiously. "There is some talk of taking me out of the China trade for theCalifornia runs. I shouldn't like that. "

Jeremy was turning at his secretary, and he stopped to pound his fist onits narrow ledge. "It's that damned Griffiths again and his cursedjackknife hull!" he exclaimed. The dark tide suffused his countenance. Gerrit studied him thoughtfully: he didn't know just how much William hadyet told their father about the sweeping changes taking place in Ammidon, Ammidon and Saltonstone. He did see, however, that it was unwise toexcite the old gentleman unduly. 

"I was saying only yesterday, " he put in pacifically, "that you andmyself are getting to be old models--" he broke off as William enteredthe library. The latter evidently grasped at once the subject of theirdiscussion, for he went on in a firm voice somewhat contradicted by arestrained but palpable anxiety:

"Now, father, this was bound to come up and you must sit down and listenquietly. " The elder, on the verge of a tempestuous reply, constrainedhimself to a painful attention. "It's useless to point out to you thebeneficial changes in sea carrying, for you are certain to deny theirgood and drag out the past. So I am simply forced to tell you that aftercareful consideration we have decided to line the firm with the events ofthe day and hold our place in the growing pressure of competition. Thismay sound brutal, but it was forced on us by the attitude you haveadopted. Shortly, this is what we intend, in fact are doing:

"Orders have been placed with George Raynes at Portsmouth and Jackson upin Boston for clippers of a thousand and twelve hundred tons and anotheris almost ready to be launched from Curtis' Chelsea shipyard. It oughtn'tto be necessary to call your attention again to the fact that the _SeaWitch_ has brought the passage from Hong Kong to something like threemonths. The profits of the California trade will be enormous and dependentirely on speed. 

"I'll admit that this is a big thing, it will cut sharply into ourfunds--something like a quarter of a million dollars. But, if you will bepatient for a little only, I can promise that you'll see astonishingreturns. At the same time we have no intention of giving up China andIndia, but we'll limit ourselves more closely in the nature of thecargoes, practically nothing but tea unbroken from Canton to Boston. I'llbe glad to go into all this in detail at the countinghouse, where we havethe statistics and specifications. "

To Gerrit's surprise Jeremy Ammidon sat quietly at the end of William'sspeech; he wasn't even looking at them, but had his gaze bent upon thefloor. There was a commanding, even impressive, quality in his silencethat forced the respect of both his sons. More--it made Gerritoverwhelmingly conscious of his affection, his deep admiration, for hisfather. He recalled the latter's memorable voyage in the little _TwoCapes_--the barque of two hundred and nine tons--into the dangers, soimminent to a master, of uncomprehended waters and thousands of mileswith, for the most part, only the sheerest dead reckoning. Jeremy Ammidonsaid finally:

"If it's done it's done. I used to think there were two Ammidons in thefirm, not to mention Gerrit; but it seems there's only one. A man who hasnever been to sea. " He rose and marched, slower and more ponderous thanever before, to the cupboard where he kept the square bottle of Medfordrum; there, with trembling hands, he poured himself out a measure. Heshut the glass door, but stood for an oppressive space with his back tothe room, seeing that old vision of struggle or accomplishment. 

"I suppose I've been a damned nuisance about the countinghouse for a longtime, " he pronounced, turning. William rose. "You made it, " he said;"it's you. God forgive me if I have been impatient or forgetful of all weowe you. " There was a stir of skirts in the doorway, and Rhoda entered. "Breakfast--" she stopped, and with a quick glance at her husband andGerrit went at once to Jeremy Ammidon. "They've been bothering youagain, " she declared, and turned an expression of bright anger on theyounger men. "Ah, how hard and hateful and blind you are!" she cried. 

William, with a hopeless gesture, walked from the room. Gerrit moved to awindow facing the Square; but he saw nothing of its sultry yellow-greenexpanse--he was remembering how as a child, his mother already dead, anurse had held him up on Derby Wharf to see his father sweep into portfrom the long voyage to the East. He caught again the resonant voice, asif sounding from a hold of ribbed oak, the tremendous vigor of the armthat swept him up to a bearded face. He couldn't bring himself to movenow and see an old haggard man clinging with tremulous emotion and tearsto the sympathy, the strength, of a woman. 

Later in the morning, to his immense relief, Jeremy Ammidon regained asurprising amount of composure. At first determined never to return toLiberty Street, toward noon Gerrit found him in the hall with his broadhat and wanghee. "I'll just have a slant at those specifications, " heremarked. "Like as not they've left off the hatch coamings. " Gerritsuggested, "Since it's so hot why don't you have the carriage round?" Theother voiced his customary disparagement of that vehicle. "If I see thatI'm going to be late for dinner, " he added, "I'll get one of the youngmen to fetch me something. I don't want to give Rhoda any trouble. "

Still, on the steps, he lingered, gazing pridefully up at the bulk of thehouse he had built; his eyes rested on the brass plate, engraved with thewords Java Head, on the dignified white door. "A lot of talk when I hadthat done, " he commented; "people said they'd never heard of it, ought tohave my name there for convenience if nothing else. They didn't know. Itwould take a sailor for that. Don't forget to tell Rhoda not to wait ifI'm late. All those girls of hers get hungry. I expect William consultedLaurel about this new move, " he ended with a gleam of humor. "She's agreat hand for a clipper since she talked to Captain Waterman. " He wasdown the steps, starting deliberately across the street. There was a lastmutter of doubt. The bulky slow figure in yellow Chinese silk moved awayand Gerrit returned to the shadowed tranquillity of the library. 

More than any other place in the house it bore the impression of hisfather. He wandered about the room, lost in its associations, stoppedin front of the tall narrow walnut bookcase and took out one of thesmall company of Jeremy Ammidon's logs, reading disconnectedly in theprecise script:

"Tuesday, December 24. 132 days out. All this day gentle breezes andcloudy. Saw kelp, birds, etc. 

"Tacked ship to the eastward under short sail. At daylight made all sailto SW. Gentle breezes and clear pleasant weather. Saw huge shoals offlying fish. "

"May 19, 11 days out. Hainan in sight, bearing from W by N to NNW. Atsunset the breeze died away and hauled off the land. All night lightbreezes. Made all possible sail to the SSW. At the same time set theextremity of Hainan which bore NW by N to N. Past three Chinesevessels steering NNE. Saw much scum on the water and at 11 A. M. Lostsight of land. "

"November 14, 65 days out. These twenty-four hours commences withvariable breezes at west and smooth sea. Saw brig steering to theEastward. The land of Sumatra bearing SW by W to SE by S. Tied rips. "

He returned the log to its resting place with a quiet smile at the lastperiod. It was all incredibly simple--a lost simplicity of navigation anda lost innocent wonder at the Mare Atlanticum of old fable. 

Neither William nor Jeremy Ammidon was present for dinner. They were, Gerrit concluded, submerged in the effort to bring the changingactivities of the firm into the latter's comprehension. His foot was onthe stair leading up to his wife, when there was a violent knocking onthe front door. It sounded with a startling abruptness in the shut hall, and Gerrit instinctively answered without waiting for a servant. Theflushed and breathless young man before him was evidently perturbed byhis appearance. He stammered:

"Captain Ammidon, you--you must come down to the countinghouse. Atonce, please!"

His thoughts, directed upon his father, gathered into a chillingcertainty. "Captain Jeremy is sick?" he demanded instantly. Thehesitation of the other seemed to confirm an infinitely greatercalamity. "Dead?" he asked again, in a flooding misery of apprehension. The clerk nodded:

"In a second, like, " he continued. "All we know they were talking in Mr. William Ammidon's room--one of the boys was out that minute getting theold gentleman some lunch--when we heard a fall, it was quite plain, andMr. Saltonstone--"

"That will do, " Gerrit cut him short. He turned into the house, rapidlyconsidering what must follow. He'd go, certainly; but first he must warnRhoda, she would have the girls to prepare.... Rhoda had always beenexceptionally considerate and fond of Jeremy Ammidon. He found her at theentrance to her room, and said, "My father is dead. " Her warm color sankand tears filled her eyes. 

Hurrying over Bath Street to Liberty his grief was held in check by thepressing actualities of the moment. He had time, however, to feel gladthat he had spent the morning largely in warm thoughts of the dead man. 

He passed rapidly into the entrance of the establishment of Ammidon, Ammidon and Saltonstone. Immediately on the right there was an openrailed enclosure of desks in the center of which a group of clerkswatched him with mingled respect and curiosity as he continued to theinner shut space. It was a large light room with windows on CharterStreet. William's expansive flat-topped desk with its inked green baizewas on the left, and, under a number of framed sere ships' letters andprivateersmen's Bonds of the War of 1812, Gerrit saw the heavy bodyextended on a broad wooden bench, a familiar orange Bombay handkerchiefspread over the face. 

Never in all the memory of his brother had William Ammidon been sostricken. As he entered James Saltonstone left studying a list hastilyscribbled on a half sheet of the firm's writing paper. He nodded silentlyto Gerrit, who advanced to the covered face and lifted the handkerchief. There were still traces of congestion, but a marblelike pallor had takenthe place of the familiar ruddy color. Something of the heaviness of hisold age, the blurring thickness of long inactivity, had vanished, givinghis still countenance an expression of vigor, resolution, contradicted byan arm trailing like the loose end of a heavy rope on the floor. William, with a clenched hand on his desk, spoke with difficulty:

"You must know this, Gerrit; and then I'll ask you never to allude to itagain. It might be argued that--that James and I killed him, butabsolutely without intention, by accident. Gerrit, I loved him more thanI took time to know. Well, you may or may not have heard that we own twotopsail schooners in the opium trade, between India, Ningpo and Amoy, butyou do know how father detested anything to do with the drug. We saidnothing to him about this; it seemed necessary, no--permissible. Butto-day when we were coming to a peaceable understanding about the newcontracts he stumbled over one of the schooner's manifests. Mislaid, yousee--a clerk! It swept him to his feet in a rage, he couldn't speak, and--and he had walked, it was hot.... "

Gerrit Ammidon made no answer; there was nothing to be said. He wasshaken by a burning anger at the cupidity, the ugly commercial grasping, to which his father had been sacrificed. A gulf opened between him andhis brother and James Saltonstone; he was as different from them as thesea was from the land, as the wind-swept deck of the _Nautilus_ was fromthis dry building with its stifling papers and greed. He might be in theservice of the firm--Gerrit was not incorporated in the partnership--hemight carry their cargoes for the multiplication of the profit, but hisessential service and responsibility, his life, were addressed to anotherand infinitely higher and more difficult consummation than the stowedkegs of Spanish dollars, the bills of sale. This was composed of thestruggle with the immeasurable elements of the seas and winds, the safetyof lives, the endless trying of his endurance and will and luck. 

"Now, " he spoke with a perceptible bitterness, "you can have your waywithout interference, without his mixing up your papers or making theblunders of a slow sort of honesty. "

"I am under no obligation to your judgment or opinion, " Williamreplied stiffly. "There are always complications you will neverpenetrate nor carry. At present your assistance is more necessary thanany display of temper. "

The funeral gathered and ebbed in a long procession of carriages througha sultry noon, the services at the grave concluded by the symbolicdropping of the earth on Jeremy Ammidon's coffin lowered into the deepnarrow clay pit. The large varied throng lingered for a breath, as ifunable to take their attention from the raw opening that had absorbed theshipmaster, and then there was a determined and reassuring commonplacemurmur, a hurrying away into the vital warmth of the day. 

The evening was the loveliest summer and the garden of Java Head couldafford: a slow moon disentangled itself from the indigo foliage at theback of the stable and soared with an increasing brilliancy, bathing thesod and summerhouse and poplars, the metallic box borders and spikedflower beds, in a crystal clearness. The Ammidons sat about the willow, Rhoda with a hand affectionately on her husband's arm, thechildren--Laurel and Janet staying without remark long past theiraccustomed hours for bed--still and white under the blanching moon. Gerrit intently studied his wife, Taou Yuen, in a concentrated manner. She, too, was in white, the Chinese mark of sorrow. 

Suddenly in the face of his suffering and memories she had appearedstartlingly remote, as if, from standing close beside him, she weremoving farther and farther away. The image was made profoundlydisconcerting by the fact that they acted without their own accord; ittook the aspect of a purely arbitrary phenomenon over which they had nocontrol. At the same time Nettie Vollar was surprisingly near, actual--hecould see every line and shading of her vivid face; he felt the warmimpact of her instant sympathy. He had caught a glimpse of Barzil Dunsackat the funeral; but the other was immediately hidden by the crowd, andGerrit had been unable to discover whether his son and daughter or Nettiehad accompanied him. 

His thoughts turned in a score of associations and questions to Nettie;but when he found himself trying to picture her exact employment at thepresent moment he was angrily aroused. He had, he realized, considerednothing else for the past hour, and his preoccupation was growing moreintense, personal. He stirred abruptly, and fixed his mind on theimminent changes from his father's death. First the possibility woulddevelop of his becoming a member of the firm; but to this, he silentlydeclared, he would not agree. His gaze rested with a faint underlyinganimosity on William, seated upright in a somber absorption, and adisparagement of the latter's activities and scale of values. Gerrit sawthat there must be a pacific legal knot to untangle; the division ofJeremy's estate would require time--he had somewhere heard that suchaffairs often dragged on for a year; and now he was again in a fever ofimpatience to be away, safe, at sea. He added the more portentous wordwith the vague self-assurance that it was only the customary expressionof his notable ignorance of land; but it echoed with an ominous specialinsistence in his mind. 

The _Nautilus_, he recalled, was once more afloat, repaired; and a planoccurred to him that seemed to dispose of all his difficulties, even ofthe distasteful possibility of the California clipper service. He couldtake the ship as part of his inheritance; and, though ostensibly sailingher in the interest of the firm, make such voyages and ports, carry suchcargoes, as his independence dictated. The _Nautilus_, with a cargo outof tin and dyes and cotton manufactures, and forty or fifty thousandtrade dollars, would represent a sum of nearly two hundred thousand; butas a family they were very rich; he'd have more than that; and bank theremainder intact to the credit of his wife. 

There were many practical aspects of his marriage that he had not stoppedto weigh in its precipitant consummation. The problem, pointed out byRhoda, of his absence from Taou Yuen on cruise could not be solved withthe facility he had taken for granted. It was as impossible to leave herhappily here--he was aware of her growing impatience with Westernhabit--as it would be for him to become a contented part of Chinese homelife; and not only was she uncomfortably cramped and sick on shipboard, but he doubted whether he could persuade his crews to sail with her. Superstitious able seamen balked at the presence of even a normal wifeaft; and a Chinese would be regarded as a sign of certain disaster. 

He would have to establish her somewhere in the East Indies; and heviewed with a new dislike all such tropical settings. His entire lifethreatened to become an affair of damnable palm trees and Orientalstenches. Gerrit Ammidon broke into a cold sweat at the realization ofthe far more direct implication that had taken substance in his mind. Thething was going entirely too far! He wondered irritably at the obscurecause for such violent inner agitations. 

Rhoda Ammidon with a dim smile rose, gathering her daughters about her, and departed in a pale cloud of muslin. Taou Yuen, with her murmuringformal politeness, moved away too, leaving the brothers together. Whatever sympathetic intercourse they might otherwise have had, whatevershared memories of their boyhood and their father, were made impossibleby William's admission of the immediate cause of the elder's death. 

"The Saltonstones are going into Boston this fall, " William saidabruptly. "It is necessary for one of us to live there; and Caroline hasalways had a hankering for wider society. Rhoda, I was surprised tolearn, wishes to remain here at Java Head for a year or so anyway. Shehas a very real affection for the place. But I tell her when the girlsare older Boston, or perhaps New York, will give them far greateropportunities. Sidsall, stranger still, was in tears at the whole thing;she seemed ridiculously upset about leaving. "

The vision of Nettie Vollar persisted, bright and disturbing. Once he wasat sea, Gerrit told himself, on the circumscribed freedom of hisquarter-deck, he would lose the unsettling fever burning at that instantin his veins. But the memory of long solitary passages with nothing todistract his mind through week upon week after the ship took the trades, when hour upon hour his thoughts turned inward on themselves and reviewedevery past act and feeling, made doubtful even that old release. Thetrouble was that he instinctively avoided any square facing of thedifficulty that had multiplied with such amazing rapidity--like a banyantree--about the present and the shadowed future. This he was forced toadmit, but grimly added that there could be only one answer to whateverhe might lay bare--the adherence to the single fundamental duty of whichhe never lost sight. No port was gained by changing blindly from courseto course, that way lay the reefs; a man could but keep steadily by thecompass. That, at least, was all he could see, propose, for himself, being rather limited and lacking the resources which others of greaterknowledge so confidently explored. 

After breakfast on the following morning he mounted the dignifiedstaircase, with the sweeping railing of red narra wood and high Palladianwindow at the turn, to his wife. In their room he was bathed in a coldsweat of dismay at a sudden detached view of Taou Yuen in her completeManchu mourning for his father. An unhemmed garment of coarse white hemphung in ravelings about slippers of sackcloth; what had been an elaborateheaddress was hidden under a binding of the bleached hemp; she wore nopaint nor flowers; her pins and earrings were pasted with dough, and herexpression was drugged with the contemplative fervor of what hadevidently been a religious ceremonial. 

"For the wise old man, for your father, " she said. She was exhausted andsank onto the day bed; but almost immediately her hand reached out in thedirection of her pipe, and she smiled faintly at him. He clenched hissinewy hands, the muscles of his jaw knotted, as he gazed steadily at thewoman, the Manchu woman, he had of his own free accord married. Itsickened him that, for the drawing of a breath, he had regarded Taou Yuenwith such appalling injustice--injustice, the evil he hated and condemnedmore than any other. What, in the name of God, was he made of that hecould sink so low!

"We'll leave here soon, " he declared abruptly; "the _Nautilus_ will beready for sea almost any time. "

He could recognize, from his slight knowledge of her, that Taou Yuenwelcomed the news. "Shanghai?" she asked. He nodded. It came over himthat he was no longer young. His father had retired from the sea within afew years of his own present age and built Java Head, the house that wasto be a final harbor of unalloyed happiness. No such prospect awaitedhim; he had one of the premonitions that were more certain than the mostsolid realities--as long as he lived he must sail in ships, strugglingwith winds and calms, with currents and cockling and placid seas. Well, that was natural, inevitable, what he would have chosen. At the same timehe dwelt, with a sensation of loneliness, on the green garden anddrawing-room filled in June with the scent of lilacs, on Rhoda surroundedby her girls. 

When the question of the division of Jeremy Amnudon's estate came up, hewas, as he had foreseen, urged to become a partner of the firm; and, whenthat failed, told that it was his vested duty to continue in his presentcapacity as a shipmaster in all their interests. He was seated withSaltonstone and William in the countinghouse and he could tell from hisbrother's ill-restrained impatience that the other considered him hardlymore than a clumsy-witted, stubborn fool before the mast of the facts ofactual life. 

His gaze, above their heads, rested on the framed pass of the ship_Mocha_, one of his father's last commands, over the bench where he hadlain dead. It was given by the President, James Monroe, in 1818, itswhite paper seal embossed on the stained parchment. It had an engravingof a lighthouse and spired town on the dark water's edge, and above, apicture of a ship with everything drawing in a fair wind, the uppersails torn off on a dotted wavering line for the purpose ofidentification with its stub. 

"No, " he told them quietly, "I'll go my own way as I said; with the_Nautilus_, if that can be arranged. " He rose with a nod of finality, andJames Saltonstone remarked, "Jeremy to the life. " Gerrit replied, "I'dnot ask anything better. "

Through the evening he heard little but the discussion of Mr. Folk'sapproaching visit to Salem. The President was to leave the train at theBeverly Depot at three P. M. And be fetched with Secretary Buchanan andMarshal Barnes in a barouche with six horses and met at the outskirts ofSalem by the city authorities. 

There would be a Beverly cavalcade, the city guard was ordered to musterat the armory; while an evening parade at five o'clock and the militaryball in Franklin Hall were to follow. 

But when the day and occasion actually arrived it was spoiled by asuccession of unforeseen mishaps. The train was late and the presidentialparty in a fever of haste--the procession, hurrying through the massedpublic-school children and throngs of Chestnut Street, gave a perfunctoryattention to the salutes and short address of the mayor. The President'sreply, hardly more than a few introductory phrases, cut short, thebarouche was sent plunging over its route with the Secretary crying, "Drive on! Drive on!" and Marshal Barnes swearing and expectorating incallous profusion. 

Some of the crowd, the Ammidons heard, had been knocked down and injuredin the pell-mell of the rush. Gerrit's countenance showed his contempt ofwhat he held to be a characteristically ludicrous farce. After all, hiswishes in regard to the _Nautilus_ had been easy of execution, the shipwas now his; he was already contracting for a cargo. He had been to seeMr. Broadrick, his first mate, and the latter was assembling the chiefmembers of the crew. As always at the prospect of sailing he wasunsettled, concerned with countless details of departure--like a vesselstraining at her last anchor. 

Seated in the library with Taou Yuen--he had called her aside from herfixed passage to their room from the garden--he was recounting his mainplans for the near future, when he became aware of an arrival on thesteps outside. He heard a servant's voice, and, immediately after, thewoman appeared in the doorway; but she was forced aside by EdwardDunsack. Gerrit's quick resentment flared at such an unmanneredintrusion, and he moved ungraciously forward. The servant explainedimpotently, "I told him I would see--"

"Yes?" Gerrit Ammidon demanded. 

Dunsack bowed ceremoniously to Taou Yuen, then he faced the other. On theverge of speech he hesitated, as if an unexpected development madeinadequate whatever he had been prepared to say; then, with a suddendecision, he hurried into an emotional jumble of words. "I can tell youin a breath--Nettie was badly hurt in that cursed rabble yesterday. Itlooks as if she was actually struck by one of the horses. She wasunconscious, and then delirious; now she is in her right mind but veryweak; and, since she wished to see you, I volunteered to put our pride inmy pocket and carry her message. "

An instant numbing pain compressed Gerrit's heart; he felt that, in aninvoluntary exclamation, he had clearly shown the depth of his dismay. Damn the fellow, why had he burst out in this public indecent manner! Thesituation he had plausibly created, the thing he managed to insinuate, was an insult to them all--to his wife, Taou Yuen, coldly composedbeyond, himself and to Nettie. He stood with his level gaze fixed in anenraged perplexity on Edward Dunsack's sallow countenance, deep sunk onits bony structure, conscious that there was no possibility of asatisfactory or even coherent reply. 

"Something was said about this afternoon, " the other added. That period, Gerrit realized, was nearly over. But above every other considerationrose the knowledge that he would have to see Nettie Vollar, badlyinjured, as she desired. The common humanity of that necessity left himno choice. 

He turned to Taou Yuen with a brief formal explanation. A friend, theirfamilies had been associated for years, had been hurt and sent forhim.... Return immediately. He paused, in the act of leaving, at the doorof the library, waiting for Edward Dunsack to join him; but the other hadresolutely turned his back upon Gerrit. He showed no indication ofdeparture. Gerrit Ammidon was at the point of an exasperated direction;but that, in the light of Dunsack's purpose there, appeared ridiculouslyabrupt; and confident of his wife's supreme ability to control anysituation he continued without further hesitation to the street, hurryingin a mounting anxiety toward the Dunsacks'. 

Dwelling on his conduct in the library, at the sudden announcement ofNettie's accident, he felt that he had acted in a precipitant if notactually confused way. As a fact, it had all been largely mechanical; hisoppression, his dread for Nettie, had made everything else dim to see andfaint to hear. Dunsack's grimacing face, the immobile figure of his wife, the familiar sweep of the room, had been things of no more substance thana cloud between him and the only other reality existing. He had nomemory, for instance, of having stopped to secure his hat, but he foundit swinging characteristically in a hand. And now even the semblance ofreasonable speech and conduct he had managed to command vanished before apanic that all but forced him into a run. 

The main door of Barzil Dunsack's house was open on the narrow somberregion within; he knocked sharply against the wood at the side and wasimmediately answered by the appearance of Kate Vollar. 

"This is a great kindness, Captain Ammidon, " she told him in her negativevoice; "come in here, please. " He looked hastily about the formal spaceinto which she led him, expecting to see Nettie prostrate, but she wasnot there. "How is she?" he demanded impatiently. 

"Nettie?" her mother turned as if surprised by an unexpected twist of thesituation. "Oh, why she'll mend all right, the doctor says; but it willbe slow. Her arm had an ugly slithering break, and she suffers with itall the time. " A pause followed, in which she met his interrogation witha growing mystification. "I suppose Edward told you, " she venturedfinally. The sense of being at a loss was swiftly communicated to him. 

"Your brother said Nettie wanted to see me, " he returned bluntly. 

"Now, however could Edward do a thing like that!" she cried in deepdistress. "Why, there's no truth to it. I asked him myself to see ifyou'd kindly stop and give me some advice. What put it in my head wasthat once your father offered--he told Nettie to let him know if therewas anything to be done. Edward Dunsack isn't just right in his head. "

Gerrit was filled with a mingling sense of disappointment, relief thatNettie was no worse, and the uncomfortable conviction that he had behavedlike an hysterical fool. He, too, but angrily, wondered why Dunsack hadinvented such an apparently pointless lie. Probably Kate Vollar wasright, and her brother's wits, soaked in opium, had wandered into a realmof insane fabrications. He composed himself--the first feeling blottingout his other emotions--to meet the deprecating interrogation before him. 

"I should be glad to do what I could in my father's place. "

"In a way, " she continued, "it's about Edward. When he came back fromChina and decided to stay in Salem his father turned all the books overto him; he was to tend to everything in the way of accounts andshipments; and, he said, he would make us all rich in a year or so. But, instead, he has neglected the clerking until we can't tell what's goingor coming. Edward hasn't--hasn't quite been himself lately, " she pausedand Gerrit nodded shortly. "Now we're not wealthy, Captain Ammidon, wenever got more than just enough from our West India trade; but in thelast couple of months, with Edward like he is and father too old forcolumns of figuring--he's dreadful forgetful now--not a dollar was made. The schooners are slow, behind the times I guess, we've had to scrape;yet it's been something.... They're both awful hard to do with, " shestopped hopelessly. 

"You must get a reliable man in charge. Some one who knows the West Indiashipping should go over your entire property, decide what is necessary, then borrow the money. We can find that without trouble. I'll make onlyone condition: That is the complete restraint of your brother. It isknown that he has the opium habit, he is a dangerous--"

He stopped at the echo of a thin persistent tapping from above. "That'sNettie, " Kate Vollar said; "the way she calls me. I'll ask you to excuseme for a minute. " When she returned her face bore an unaccustomed flush. "Nettie heard you in the hall or through the stovepipe. " She spokedoubtfully: "She'd like to see you, but I don't know if it would be rightwith her in bed. Still, I promised I'd tell you. "

He rose promptly. The woman stood aside at the upper door and he at oncesaw Nettie lying with her vigorous black hair sprawling in a thick twistacross the pillow. Her face was pinched, it seemed thin, and thebrilliancy and size of her eyes were exaggerated. One arm, clumsy andinanimate in splints, was extended over the cotton spread; but with theother hand she was feverishly busy with her appearance. She smiled, a wantremulous movement that again shut the pain like a leaden casket abouthis heart. 

"Do go away, mother!" Nettie directed Kate Vollar hovering behind them. "Your fidgeting will make me scream. " With an incoherent murmur shevanished from the room. The girl motioned toward a chair, and Gerrit drewit forward to a table that bore water and a small glass bowl partlycovered by a sheet of paper, holding a number of symmetricalreddish-black pills. "Opium, " Nettie told him, following his gaze; "Icried dreadfully with the hurt at first. It's dear, and Edward made thosefrom some he had. You know, I watched him roll them right here; it waswonderful how quickly he did it, each exactly alike, two grains. " Shetold him the circumstances of her accident while he sat with his eyessteadily on her face, his hands folded. 

He was quiet, without visible emotion or speech; but there was an uttertumult, a tumult like the spiral of a hurricane, within him. Rebelliousfeelings, tyrannical desires and thoughts, swept through him in waves ofheat and cold. Nettie's voice grew weak, the shadows deepened under hereyes, for a little they closed; and but for the faint stir of thecoverlet over her heart she was so pallid, so still, that she might havebeen dead. Moved by an uncontrollable fear he bent toward her and touchedher hand. Her gaze slowly widened, and, turning over her palm, she weaklygrasped his fingers. A great sigh of contentment fluttered from her drylips. "Gerrit, " she whispered, barely audible. He leaned forward, blindedby his passion for her. 

He admitted this in an honest self-knowledge that he had refusedrecognition until now. Tender and reassuring words, wild declarations andplans for the future, crowded for expression; nothing else before theimmensity of desire that possessed him was of the slightest concern; butnot a syllable was spoken. A sharp line was ploughed between his brows;his breath came in short choked gusts, he was utterly the vessel of hislonging, and yet an ultimate basic consideration, lost in the pounding ofhis veins, still restrained him. 

"I love you, Gerrit, " Nettie said; "I'll never stop till I die. " Her faceand voice were almost tranquil; she seemed to speak from a plane abovethe ordinary necessities of common existence, as if her pain, burning outher color and vigor and emotions, had given her the privilege of truth. Curiously enough when it seemed to him that she had expressed what shouldhave sent him into a single consuming flame he grew at once completelycalm. He, too, for the moment, reached her state of freedom from earthand flesh. 

"I love you, Nettie, " he replied simply. 

However, he speedily dropped back into the sphere of actualresponsibilities. He saw all the difficulties and hovering insidiousshadows in which they might be lost. This, in turn, was pushed aside bythe incredulous realization that Nettie's life and his had been spoiledby a thing no more important than a momentary flare of temper. If, asmight have happened, he had overlooked Barzil Dunsack's ridiculoustirade, if he had turned into the yard where Nettie was standing insteadof tramping away up Hardy Street, everything would have been well. 

It was unjust, he cried inwardly, for such infinite consequences toproceed from unthinking anger! A great or tragic result should springfrom great or tragic causes, the suffering and price measured by theerror. He could see that Nettie was patiently waiting for him to solvethe whole miserable problem of their future; she had an expression ofrelief which seemed to take a happy issue for granted. None was possible. A baffled rage cut his speech into quick brutal words flung like shotagainst her hope. 

"I love you, " he repeated, "yes. But what can that do for us now? I hadmy chance and I let it go. To-day I'm married, I'll be married to-morrow, probably till I die. Perhaps that wouldn't stop a man moreintelligent--it might be just that--than I am; perhaps he'd go rightafter his love or happiness wherever or however it offered. There aremen, too, who have the habit of a number of women. That is understood tobe a custom with sailors. It has never been with me; as I say, maybe I amtoo stupid. 

"What in the name of all the heavens would I do with Taou Yuen?" hedemanded. "I can't desert her here, in America, leave her with William. Ibrought her thousands of miles away from her home, from all she knows andis. If I took her back and dropped her in China it would be murder. "

An expression of unalloyed dreariness overspread Nettie's features. "Iwish I had been killed right out, " she said. The starkness of the words, of the reality they spoke, flowed over him like icy water; he felt thathe was sinking, strangling, in a sea grimmer than any about Cape Horn. Hewas continually appalled by the realization that there was no escape, nosmallest glimmer, leading from the pit into which they had stumbled. Hehad the sensation of wanting enormously to go with Nettie but was fast inchains that were locked on him by a power greater than his will. 

"It's no good, " his voice was flat. 

"I don't believe I'll see you again, " Nettie articulated; "now the_Nautilus_ is near ready to sail. I can't stand it, " she sobbed; "thatlast time you went out the harbor just about ended me, but this is worse, worse, worse. I'll--I'll take all the opium. "

"No, you won't, " he asserted, standing, confident that her spirit was toonormal, too vitally healthy, for that. His gaze wandered about the room:her clothes were neatly piled and covered by a skirt on a chair; themirror on her chest of drawers was broken, a corner missing; there was atotal absence of the delicate toilet adjuncts of Rhoda and TaouYuen--only a small paper of powder, a comb and brush, and the washstandwith a couple of coarse towels. What dresses she had were hung behind aridiculously inadequate drapery. She had so little with which toaccomplish what, for a girl, was so much. 

His emotion had retreated, leaving him dull-eyed, heavy of movement. Themoment had come for his departure. Gerrit stood by the bed. Nettie turnedaway from him, her face was buried in the pillow, the uppermost freeshoulder shook. "Good-by, " he said. There was no answer and he patientlyrepeated the short tragic phrase. Still there was no sound from Nettie. There would be none. Even the impulse to touch her had died--died, hethought, with a great many feelings and hopes he once had. A fleetsurprise invaded him at the absence of any impulse now to protest orindulge in wild passionate terms; he was surprised, too, at the fact thathe was about to leave Nettie. The whole termination of the affair wasbathed in an atmosphere of stale calm, like the air in a ship's hold. 

Gerrit Ammidon gazed steadily at her averted head, at the generous lineof her body under the coverlet; then, neither hasty nor hesitating in hiswalk, he left the room. Kate Vollar met him at the foot of the stair. "You understood, " she said, "that I only bothered you because yourfather... Because I was so put on?"

"You were quite right, " he replied in a measured voice; "it will all beattended to. With the agreement I mentioned. "

"How they'll take it I don't know. "

"In some positions, " he told her, "certain persons are without anychoice. The facts are too great for them. I said nothing to Nettie ofEdward Dunsack's reason for my coming, " he added significantly. Out inthe street he stopped, facing toward Java Head and evening; but, with aquiver of his lips, the vertical bitter line between his drawn brows, he turned and marched slowly, his head sunk, to where the _Nautilus_was berthed. 

IX

Seated in the library, placidly waiting for Edward Dunsack to go, TaouYuen studied him briefly. A long or thoughtful survey was unnecessary:the opium was rapidly mastering him. That fact absorbed all the rest. Shehad an immeasurable contempt for such physical and moral weakness; allthe three religions fused in her overwhelmingly condemnedself-indulgence; her philosophy, the practical side of Lao-tze'steaching, emphasized the utter futility of surrender to the five senses. At the same time he was the subject of some interest: he was an Americanwho had lived in China, and not only on the fringe of the treatyports--he had penetrated to some extent into the spirit, the life, ofthings Chinese; while she, Taou Yuen, was amazingly married to GerritAmmidon, was a Manchu here, in America. 

Absolutely immobile, her hands folded in her lap, she considered thesefacts, each in relation to the other: there was wisdom hidden in them forher. If Mr. Dunsack had retained the ordinary blustering Westerncommercial mind, his knowledge of China confined to the tea houses andstreets, he would probably be prosperous and strong to-day. The wisdomlay in this--that here she must remain Manchu, Chinese; any attempt tobecome a part of this incomprehensible country, any effort to involveherself in its mysterious acts or thought, would be disastrous. She mustremain calm, unassertive, let the eternal Tao take its way. 

Edward Dunsack looked actually comic: he was staring rudely, with afoolish air of flattery, and breathing in labored gasps--like a cooliewho had run miles with a heavy palanquin. Then her mind, hardly reactingfrom immediate objects, returned to the contemplation of the deepersignificance of her presence here. Bent in on itself her thought twistedlike a moonflower vine about the solid fact of Gerrit. She realized, ofcourse, that he must have had the past of any healthy honorable man ofhis age, and that it would have included at least one woman. However, when even the present was an almost complete puzzle his past had been solost to her that she had not considered it until now. 

"You must overlook my unceremonious speech, " Edward Dunsack proceeded increditable Chinese. "It was clumsy, but I was deeply affected. It is myniece, you see, who was hurt, and who has a very sad history. Then thereare some special circumstances. I'd have to explain a great deal beforeyou could understand why she sent for your husband and why he left sohurriedly. "

"There is nothing you need tell me, " Taou Yuen replied in her slowcareful English. "Manchu eyes can see as well as American. "

"A thousand times better. " He, too, returned to his native speech. "It isdelightful to talk to a truly civilized being. All that would have to beshouted at the women of Salem is unnecessary now. You see--you understandthe heart of a man. "

"I understand you, " she said impersonally. 

"I wonder if you do, " he speculated. "You ought to see what--how much--Ithink of you. My brain holds nothing else, " he declared in a low intensevoice, drawing nearer to her. 

She had a momentary, purely feminine shrinking from his emaciated shakingframe, the burning eyes in a face dead like a citron; then her placidityreturned, the assurance that it was all ordained, that his gestures, thepumping of his diseased heart, had no more individual significance thanthe movements of a mechanical figure operated by strings, here thestrings of supreme Fate. She even smiled slightly, a smile not the markof approval or humor, but an expression of absolute composure. It drovehim at once into febrile excitement. 

"At least I understand you, " he cried; "far more than you suppose! Youcan't impress me with your air of a Gautama. I know the freedom of yourcountry. It doesn't shock you to realize that your husband has gone tosee a woman he loved, perhaps loves still, and you are not disturbed atmy speaking like this. "

Here, she knew, regarding him no more than a shrilling locust, was thecenter about which for a moment blindly her thoughts of Gerrit andherself had revolved. His past--"a woman he loved. " But it didn't in theleast upset her present peace of mind, her confidence in Gerrit. Therewas a sharp distinction between the eternal, the divine, Tao, that whichis and must prevail, and the personal Tao, subject to rebellion and allthe evil of Yin; and she felt that her husband's Tao was good. Out ofthis she remarked negligently:

"After all, you are more ignorant of China than I thought. But, ofcourse, you saw only the common and low side. You have not heard of thebooks girls are taught from--'The Sacred Edict' and 'Mirror of theHeart. ' You don't know even the first rule of 'The Book of Rites, ' 'Letyour face and attitude be grave and thoughtful, ' and the second, 'Letyour steps be deliberate and regular. '" She paused, conveying by hermanner that he was already vanishing and that she was relieved. 

"That would do well enough if you were a scholar, or a bonze, " heretorted; "but such innocence in a fashionable woman is a pretense. Ifyou are so pure how can you explain your gold and bracelets and pins, all the marks of your worldly rank? Lao-tze taught, 'Rich and high butproud brings about its own misfortune. '" He was so close to her now thatshe caught a faint sickly reek from his body. It seemed to her that shecould see his identity, his reason, vanish, replaced by madness in hisstaring eyes. 

"I worship you, " he murmured. 

"Opium, " she spoke disdainfully. 

"Your own tobacco is drugged, " he asserted. "But that's not important. Itell you I worship you, the most beautiful person in the world. Thesefools in Salem, even your husband, can't realize one-tenth of yourperfection; they can't venerate you as I do. And now that Ammidon hasgone back to the first, we are free too. "

"You are a liar, " she said with an unexpected colloquial ease. 

A darker color stained his dry cheeks. "You saw him, " he replied. "Didhe get pale or didn't he? And did he or not rush from the room like aman in a fever? I tell you it's no use pretending with me; say what youplease I know how delicate your senses are. I'll tell you this too: It'swritten in our progression that we should meet here, yes, and be a greatdeal to each other. It was written in the beginning, and we had beendrawing together through a million cycles before Gerrit Ammidon stumbledacross you. "

Taou Yuen was surprised by a sudden conviction that a part of this, atleast, was so. No living thing, however minute, escaped from theweariness of movement, either ending in final and blessed suspension orcondemned to struggle on and on through countless lives of tormentingpassion. All had this dignity of hope or despair; all she encounteredwere humble, impressive or debased in the working of the mighty law. Shehad been guilty, as this American had pointed out, of dangerous and wrongpride, and she accepted her lesson willingly. There was, however, anannoying conflict between Edward Dunsack, the example, the impersonal, and Edward Dunsack making violent profession of his unspeakable desirefor her. Even the word seemed to soil her; but there was no other. Hewent recklessly on, trying to increase his advantage:

"We're made to be together. "

"If we are it is because of some great wickedness of mine. If we are, then perhaps I am lost. But it is allowed to resist evil, at least, asfar as staying out of its touch is resistance. "

"Nothing can keep you from me, " he declared. Another short step and hisknees would be brushing her gown. A stronger wave of dislike, shrinking, anger, drowned her logical and higher resignation. "It is time for you togo, " she said, her voice still even. 

"Never. "

It seemed to her that she could feel his hot quivering touch and, all herphilosophy dropping from her, she rose quickly. "If this were China, " shetold him, in a cold fury, "you'd be cut up with knives, in the court-yardwhere I could look on. But even here I can ring for a servant; and whenCaptain Ammidon comes back he'll know what to say to you. "

She could see that the last affected him; he hesitated, drew back, hishanging fingers clasping and unclasping. That, she thought, relieved, would dispose of him. Then it was clear that his insanity persistedeven in the face of the considerable threat of Gerrit's hot pride andviolent tempers. 

"It's our destiny, " he repeated firmly in his borrowed faith, at once alittle terrifying and a little ridiculous in the alien mold. His lipstwitched and his bony forehead glistened in a fine sweat. Now, thoroughlyroused, she laughed at him in open contempt. 

"Diseased, " she cried, "take your sores away! Dog licked by dogs. Bowlof filth, " she was speaking in Chinese, in words of one syllable likethe biting of a hair whip. Edward Dunsack gasped, as if actual blowscut him; he stood with one hand half raised, appalled at the suddenvicious rush of her anger. A leaden pallor took the place of his normalsallow coloring, and it was evident that he had difficulty inwithstanding the pressure of his laboring heart. He stood between herand the door and she had a premonition that it would be useless toattempt to avoid him or escape. She could, however, call, and some one, there were a score of people about the house, must certainly appear. Atthat moment she saw a deep change sweep over his countenance, takingplace in his every fiber. There was an inner wrenching of EdwardDunsack's being, a blurring and infusion of blood in his eyes, a breathlonger and more agonized than any before, and she was looking closelyinto the face of an overwhelming hatred. 

For a moment, she realized, he had even considered killing her with hisflickering hands. Then that impulse subsided before a sidelong expressionof cunning. "With all your Manchu attitudes, " he mocked her, "yes, youraristocratic pretense of mourning and marks of rank, you are no differentfrom the little pleasure girls. Your vocabulary and mind are the same. Iwas a fool for a while; I saw nothing but your satins and painted face. Iforgot you were yellow, I had forgotten that all China's yellow. It'syellow, yellow, yellow and never can be white. I shut my eyes to it andit dragged me down into its slime. " His voice was hysterical with anagony of rending spiritual torment and hopeless grief. "It poisoned melittle by little, with the smell of its rivers and the cursed smell ofits pleasures. Then the opium. A year after I had lost my position, everything; and when I came over here it followed me ... In my own blood. Even then I might have broken away, I almost had, when Gerrit Ammidonbrought you to Salem. You came at a time when I was fighting hardest tothrow it all off. You see--you fascinated me. You were all that was mostalluring of China, and I wanted you so badly, it all came back so, that Iwent to the opium to find you. "

"Progression, " she said ironically. 

"Perhaps, " he muttered. "Who knows? I'm finished for this life anyhow. You did that. I can't even keep the books for my father's penny trade. "

His hands crept rigidly toward her. If they touched her she would bedegraded for ever. Yet she was incapable of flight, her throat refusedthe cry which she had been debating; alternate waves of revulsion andstoical resignation passed over her with chills of acute terror. Yet shemanaged to preserve an unstirred exterior; and that, she observed, beganto influence him. His loathing was as great as ever; but his vision, thathad been fixed in a blaze of fury, broke, avoided her direct scrutiny, her appearance of statue-like unconcern. 

There was a sound of quick light feet in the hall, the bright voice ofone of Gerrit's nieces. Edward Dunsack fell into a profound abstraction:he turned and walked away from her, standing with his back to the room ata window that opened upon the broad green park. He was so weak that hewas forced to support himself with a hand on the wall. 

Taou Yuen was motionless for a perceptible space, and then moved towardthe door in a dignified composure. All this had come from the utterimpropriety of the life in America. Dunsack glanced at her as shewithdrew, and for a moment she saw his fine profile sharp and darkagainst the light-flooded window. His lips stirred but she heard nosound. Then she was on the stair mounting to her room. 

There mechanically she filled her pipe; but doing this she noticed thather hands were trembling. How lamentably she had failed in thepreservation, the assertion, of her superiority, not as a Manchu, but inthe deeper, the only true sense of the word--in submission. 

"Requite hatred with virtue. "

She spoke Lao-tze's admonition aloud and, in the customary deviouschannel of her mental processes, her thoughts returned to her early life, her girlhood, so marred by sickness that the Emperor had surrendered hiscustomary proprietary right in the daughters of Manchu nobles. 

Surrounding the fact of her early suffering, which had kept her out ofthe active gayety of brothers and sisters, she remembered in the clearestdetail her father's house in the north; the later residences in Cantonand Shanghai, even the delightful river gardens of the summer place atSoochow, were less vivid. Inside the massive tiled stone wall therooms--there were a hundred at least--faced in squares on the innercourtyard, and were connected by glass enclosed verandas. The receptionhouses of the front court, the deeply carved wooden platform with itsscarlet covering, were of the greatest elegance; they were always astirwith the numerous secretaries, the Chinese writers and messengers, the_mafoos_ and chair coolies, the servants and blind musicians with the oldsongs, _The Millet's in Flower_ and _Kuan Kuan Go to the Ospreys_. Theside door to the women's apartments, however, opened into a retreat, where her father's concubine, he had but one, trailed like a bird ofparadise, and there was the constant musical drip of a fountain in an oldgranite basin. There, during the years when she was lame, Taou Yuenmostly stayed. 

She had been dropped from a palanquin in her sixth year; sharppains soon after burned in her hip, and the corresponding leg hadperceptibly shortened. A great many remedies were tried in vain--burningwith charcoal, the application of black plasters, sweating, acupuncture--sticking long needles into the afflicted part. The doctorsdeclared that the five elements of her body--the metal, wood, water, fireand earth, were hopelessly out of equilibrium. Her mother had then callednecromancers and devil charmers; lucky and unlucky days were explored;strange rites were conducted before her terrified eyes screwed into thedetermination to show no alarm. 

A year, perhaps, after they had become resigned to her injury, herfather, always a man of the most liberal ideas, had suddenly brought intothe garden to see her an English doctor passing through China. Againstthe wailing protests of the women the Englishman had been given authorityto treat her; and he had caused to be made a thin steel brace, claspingTaou Yuen's waist and extending in a rigid band down the length of herinjured leg. After putting a high shoe on her other foot he had commandedthem to keep the brace on her for two years. 

It was through that period of comparative inactivity that she acquired ahabit of reading and thought, a certain grasp of philosophical attitude, common to the higher masculine Chinese mind but rare among their women. She had, for instance, later, read Laotze's Tao-teh-king, and beenimpressed by his tranquil elevation above the petty ills and concerns oflife and the flesh. Her father, like all the ruling class, regardedTaoism--which had, indeed, degenerated into a mass of nonsense about thetransmutation of base metals into gold and the elixir of life--withcontempt. But this seemed to her no depreciation of the Greatly EminentOne or his philosophy of the two Taoes. 

The household, or at least the family, worshipped in the form ofConfucius; his precepts and admonitions, the sacred _hiao_ or filialsubmission, the tablets and ancestral piety, were a part of her blood; aswas the infinitely fainter infusion of Buddhism; yet in her intellectualbrooding it was to the Tao-teh-king that she returned. She paused torecall that, the brace at last removed, she was practically completelyrecovered; but the bent, the bracing, given her mind had remained. 

The colorful pageant of her first marriage, the smaller but splendidlyappointed house of her husband--he was extremely intelligent and hadhonorably passed the examination for licentiate, one of only two hundredsuccessful bachelors out of twenty thousand--and the period following hisaccidental drowning wheeled quickly through her brain.... 

Only Gerrit Ammidon was left. 

She loved him, Taou Yuen realized, for a quality entirely independent ofrace: he had more than anyone else she knew the virtues of simplicity andpurity announced by Chwang-Tze as the marks of the True Man. "We mustbecome like little children, " the Old Master had written. She had seenthis at once in the amazing interview sanctioned by her father-in-law. Most women of her class, even widows, would have perished with shame atbeing exposed to a foreigner. But Lu Kikwang had expressed her differencefrom them in the terms of his proposal. His words had been "finelybetter" although the truth was that her curiosity had always mastered theother and more prudent instincts. Yet that alone would not haveprostrated her before Gerrit Ammidon--death was not unthinkable--norcarried her into his strange terrifying ship and stranger life. The lovehad been born almost simultaneously with her first recognition of hischaracter. Now her passion for him was close and jealous. A constantshifting between such humanity and the calm detachment which prefiguredheaven was what most convinced her of the truths of Lao-tze. 

All this took body at the announcement of Edward Dunsack about Gerrit andhis niece. Certainly he might have had an affair; that she dismissed; butthe insinuated permanence of this other affection was serious. She wouldnot have believed Mr. Dunsack for an instant, but, as he had pointed out, Gerrit had undoubtedly been upset; he had turned pale and hurried awayimpolitely. It was by such apparently slight indications that the greatinner currents of life were discovered. The fact that Chinese officialshad more than one wife, or, to speak correctly, concubines in addition, had no bearing with Gerrit; such was not the custom with American men. Itrepresented for him, yes--dishonor. 

She laboriously recalled his every attitude since they had landed inAmerica, and was obliged to admit that he had changed--he was less gayand though his manner was always considerate she recognized a growingimpatience beneath his darker calm. Her philosophy was again torn inshreds by sharp feminine emotions. She was filled with jealousy andhatred and hurt pride. The clearest expression of his possible discontenthad marked his face when he had suddenly come into their room and saw herrising from a prayer for his father. Gerrit's lips had been compressed, almost disdainful; at that moment, she knew unerringly, he found herugly. Of course it had been the hideous garments of mourning. 

She must wear the unhemmed sackcloth and dull slippers, bind herheaddress and cover her pins with paste, for a hundred days; and thena second mourning of black or dark blue, and no flowers, for threeyears. It might well be that by then Gerrit, blind to theseproprieties, would find her unendurable. Suddenly, in the tremendousdifficulty of holding him against an entire world, his own and ofwhich she was supremely ignorant, it seemed to her that she neededevery possible means, every coral blossom and gold filament and fingerof paint, the cunning intoxication of subtle dress and color andperfume. With a leaden sense of guilt, but in a fever of impatience, of haste, she stripped off the coarse hemp for her most elaboratesatins, her santal and clover and carmine. 

When Gerrit came in it had grown dark with night, and he explained thathe had been busy inspecting the _Nautilus'_ spars. She lighted a lamp, then another, all she could find, and studied him unobtrusively. She wasshocked at the worn expression of his face; it seemed as if he had agedin the few hours since he had left the library. He was uneasy, silent;and, secretly dismayed, she saw that he was indifferent to her changedappearance, too. Taou Yuen debated the wisdom of telling him about thepainful scene with Edward Dunsack; against her original intent shedecided in the negative. She informed herself that the reason for thiswas a wish to preserve him, now that they were practically at the day ofdeparture, from an unpleasant duty. But there was an underlying dimlyapprehended and far different motive: she was afraid that it would blowinto flame a situation that might otherwise be avoided, bring to life apast naturally dying or dead. 

She saw that he was scarcely aware of her presence in the room, perhapsin his life. A period of resentment followed. "You are dull, " shedeclared, "and I am going down to the garden for entertainment. " Gerritnodded. He would, he told her, be along shortly. Below she found RogerBrevard, with the oldest Ammidon girl and her mother. 

Roger Brevard, she had discovered, was in love with Sidsall. The latter, it developed, was to leave shortly for a party; Mr. Brevard was notgoing; and, when Gerrit's sister-in-law walked across the grass with herdaughter the man dropped into an easy conversation with Taou Yuen. Shehad a feeling, which she had tried in vain to lose, of the vulgarity, theimpropriety of this. Yet she recognized that there was none of the formerin Roger Brevard; he resembled quite a little her dead husband, Sié-Ngan-kwán; and for that reason she was more at ease with him--inspite of such unaccustomed familiarity--than with anyone else in Salembut Gerrit. 

He was, she admitted condescendingly, almost as cultivated as theordinary Chinese gentleman. Many of his thoughts, where she couldunderstand their expression, might have come from a study of the sacredkings. At the same time her feminine perception realized that he had agenuine liking for her. 

"You'll be delighted to leave Salem, " he said, leaning forward andstudying her. 

"That would not be polite, " she answered formally. "You have been sogood. But it will give me pleasure to see Shanghai again. Anyone ishappier with customs he understands. "

"And prefers, " he added. "Indeed, I'd choose some of your manners ratherthan ours. You see, you have been at the business of civilization so muchlonger than the rest of us. "

"Our history begins two thousand years before your Christ, " she told him;"our language has been spoken without change for thirty-three centuries, as you call them. But such facts are nothing. I would rather hear yournon--nonsense, " she stumbled over the word. 

"Do you mean that what we call nonsense is really the most important?"

"Perhaps, " she replied. "Devotion to the old and dead is greatlynecessary yet you smile at it. I didn't mean that, but moons and loversand music. " He cried in protest, "We're terribly serious about those!"

"I hear nothing but talk about cargoes and sales and money. "

"We keep the other under our hats, " he instructed her. She was completelymystified, and he explained. 

"In China, " she remarked tentatively, "it is possible for a man to lovetwo women at once, maybe one a little more than the other, but he can bekind and just and affectionate to them both. Tell me, is--is thatpossible with an American?"

"No!" he spoke emphatically. "We can love, in the way you mean, only one, perhaps only once. I wouldn't swear to that, but there are simply noexceptions to the first. Men are unfaithful, yes; but at a cost tothemselves, or because they are incapable of restraint. To be unfaithfulin anything is to fail, isn't it? You can lie to yourself as effectivelyas to anybody else. "

She fixed a painful attention upon him, but lost at least a half of hismeaning. However, one fact was clearer than ever--that Edward Dunsack hadsaid an evil thing about her husband. "It seems, " he went on, "that evenspiritual concerns can be the result of long custom. " If he was trying tofind an excuse for Chinese habit she immediately disposed of it. "No, "she said, "you are upside down. The spirit is first, the eternal Tao, everywhere alike, but the personal spirit is different in you and in us. "

A sudden dejection seized her--now the difference seemed vaster thananything she had in common with Gerrit. A wave of oppressive nostalgia, of confusion and dread, submerged her in a faintly thunderous darkness. She felt everywhere about her the presence of evil and threateningshades. The approach of her husband, his heavy settling into a chair, didnothing to lighten her apprehension. 

"How soon do we go?" she asked faintly. 

"In two weeks, with nothing unexpected, " he responded without interest orpleasure. It flashed through her mind that he was depressed at leavingSalem, that other woman. His present indifference was very far from themanner in which he had first discussed their leaving. Yet, even that, sherecalled in the light of her present sensitiveness, had been unnaturallyabrupt and clothed in a great many loud-sounding words. She told herselfarbitrarily that Edward Dunsack had lied--for the purpose which hisconduct afterward made clear--but her very feeling was proof that shebelieved he had spoken the truth. 

She was a victim of an uneasy curiosity to see... She made a violentmental effort and recaptured the name--Nettie Vollar. Of course thelatter had been the deliberate cause of whatever wickedness hadthreatened at the return of Gerrit with her, Taou Yuen. She had howeverno doubt of the extent of this: Gerrit was upright, faithful to thenecessity Roger Brevard had explained; all that assaulted her happinesswas on an incorporate plane, or, anyhow, in a procession of consequencesextending far back and forward of their present lives. 

But, she recognized, she had no excuse nor opportunity to see NettieVollar. Mrs. Ammidon, when she heard of the accident, had at oncedeclared her intention of going to the Dunsacks' house; still thatpromised no chance of satisfying her own desire. The least politeness inthe world prohibited her from going baldly in and demanding to see thewoman. She couldn't, all at once, make convincing a sympathy orimpersonal interest entirely contradictory to her insistent indifference. The best she could hope was for them to sail away as quickly as possible;when on the other side of the seas Gerrit would probably return to thesimplicity of being she had adored. 

Then a trivial and yet serious fear occurred to her--perhaps here, amongall these dead-white women, he no longer held her beautiful. The word washis own, or it had been his; he had not repeated it, she realized, twicesince they had been in Salem. Personally, she found the American womenentirely undistinguished and dressed in grotesquely ugly and cheapclothes--not unlike paper lanterns bobbing along the ground. Their faceswere shamelessly bare of paint and their manners would have disgraced thelowest servant in a Chinese courtyard. This was natural, from anyconsideration of the hideous or inappropriate things that surroundedthem, and from the complete lack of what she could distinguish as eitherdiscipline or reverence. Yet Gerrit, a part of this, would be unable toshare her attitude; she had heard him praise the appearance of women soinsipid that she had turned expecting vainly an ironic smile. 

Roger Brevard rose and made his bow, the only satisfactory approach to acourteous gesture she had met outside Gerrit's occasional half-humorouseffort since leaving Shanghai. He stirred, muttered a perfunctory phrase, and sank back into obscurity. 

Little quirks of unfamiliar disturbing feeling ran through Taou Yuen; hermind, it seemed, had become a thing of no importance; all that at onetime had so largely ordered her life was superseded by these illogicalemotions spreading apparently from her heart. The truth was, she toldherself, that--with all her reading and philosophy--she had had little orno experience of actuality: the injury to her hip and quiet life in thegray garden at Canton, her protected existence in the women's apartments, whatever she might have learned from them neglected because of thegeneral silliness of their chatter, the formal early marriage, had allcombined for the preservation of her ignorance. 

She regarded herself now with distrust; nothing could have been moreunpleasant than the failure of her will, this swamping of her equanimity. She never lost for a moment the image of superiority that should be herperfect example, the non-assertion that was the way of heaven; but hercomprehension was like a figure ruthlessly dragged about by anoverpowering unreflective force. A sharp hatred of Nettie Vollar searedher mind and perished in a miserable sense of weakness. 

Against the dark, charged with a confusion of the ten thousand things, she stared wearily and wakeful. She reminded herself again that Gerritwould soon be gone from Salem, alone with her on the long voyage toChina; but he'd return to America, come back to Salem; and she knew thathe would never bring her westward again. A period of depression followedwhich seemed to have no immediate connection with Gerrit; she had anindefinable feeling of struggling in vain against adversity, ofopposition to an implacable power. 

For a short while after she rose in the morning it appeared that she hadregained her self-control, her reason; and a consequent happy reliefirradiated her. But when Gerrit came up after she had finished her toiletand she saw, from his haggard face, that he too must have been awake, tormented, through the night, a passion of bitterness enveloped her atwhich all that had gone before turned pale. She could scarcely restrainherself from a noisy wailing accusation, and stood regarding him with atense unnatural grimace, the result of her effort to preserve propriety. She told herself, at the tempest of vulgar phrases storming through herconsciousness, that what Edward Dunsack had said about her being nobetter than the tea house girls was true, and she was aghast at the innertreachery capable of such self-betrayal. Not a quivering word, however, escaped; she managed a commonplace phrase and turned aside in a trivialpretext of occupation. 

"I am going into Boston with Captain Dunsack on business connected withhis schooners. " The girl's grandfather! "Very well. " She spoke placidly, and with a tempestuous heart watched him stride quickly about the park. 

She settled herself in a long motionless contemplation, fastening hermind upon the most elevated and revered ideas conceivable. She saw theeternal Tao flowing like a great green river of souls, smooth and mightyand resistless; and she willed that she too might become a part of thatdesirable self-effacement, safe in surrender. Men striving to create aTao for personal ends beat out their lives in vain. It was the figure ofthe river developing, like floating on a deliberate all-powerful tide orstruggling impotently against it. 

Later a message came up from Mrs. Ammidon--she hoped that Taou Yuen woulddrive with her that afternoon. She dressed with the most particular care, in blue and dark greens, her shoulders thick with embroidered garlandsand silver _shou_, her piled hair ornamented in glittering silver leavesand garnets. 

She went down when she heard the horses on the street below but thebarouche was empty except for the coachman. "Mrs. Ammidon left a halfhour ago, " a servant told her; "and sent the carriage back for you. " Theymoved forward, going, she saw, into a part of the town where they seldomdrove--the narrow crowded way by the wharves--and, turning shortly into astreet that ended abruptly at the water, drew up before a dingy house onher right. 

The door was open, and they waited, confident that Mrs. Ammidon wouldhear the clatter of hoofs and come out; but a far different appeared. Shegazed for a silent space at Taou Yuen seated above her, as if confused bythe glittering magnificence. It was probable that Gerrit's brother's wifehad come there on an errand of charity for the woman was poor, dingy likethe house, with a face drawn by suffering and material struggle. 

"Of course you're Captain Ammidon's wife, " she said; "and you are hereafter Mrs. William Ammidon. Well, she's gone; but she left a message foryou. She will be at Henry Whipple's, the bookseller. After she saw Nettieshe went right off to send her some things; wouldn't wait for thecarriage. A kind-hearted determined body. "

Taou Yuen leaned out to command the coachman to drive on; but the other, plainly bent on making the most of a rare opportunity for such aconversation, continued talking in her low resigned way. 

"I was glad to have her too; Nettie gets pretty fretful up there withnobody but me, really. She hasn't been so well, either, since--" here shestopped abruptly, recommenced. "I like to see a person myself of Mrs. Ammidon's kind. I've been alone all day; father's gone to Boston andEdward away I don't know where. "

Taou Yuen's curiosity to see Nettie Vollar returned infinitelymultiplied; here, miraculously, was an opportunity for her to study thewoman who was beyond any doubt an important part of Gerrit's past, present--it might be, his future. The men were gone. ... She gotresolutely down from the barouche. "Take me up to your daughter, " shedirected quietly. 

"Why, that's very kind, but I don't know--Yes, certainly. Mindthese stairs with your satin skirt; I don't always get around tothe whole house. "

Taou Yuen saw at once that Nettie Vollar was far sicker than she hadrealized: her head lay on the pillow absolutely spent, her brow damplyplastered with hair and her eyes enlarged and dull. Taou Yuen drew achair forward and sat beside a table with a glass bowl of small darkpills which from a just perceptible odor she recognized as opium. Shelooked intently, coldly, at the prostrate figure. A flush like matchflames burned in Nettie Vollar's cheeks, and she said in a voice at onceweak and sharp:

"You're her!"

Taou Yuen nodded slowly, disdainfully. 

"Oh, how could he!" the other exclaimed in what sounded like the thinecho of a passionate cry. "I knew you were Chinese, but I never realizedit till this minute. "

As Gerrit Ammidon's wife had feared she was totally unable to judge asingle quality or feature of the girl before her. She looked exactly likeall the others she had seen in Salem: in order to realize her she neededGerrit's eyes, Gerrit's birth. Then one fact crept insidiously into herconsciousness--here, in a way, was another being who had Gerrit Ammidon'schildlike simplicity. That was the most terrifying discovery she couldhave made. Taou Yuen felt the return of the hateful irresistible emotionswhich had destroyed her self-control. She wanted to hurt Nettie Vollar inevery possible way, to mock her with the fact that she had lost Gerritperhaps never to see him again; she wanted to tell her that she, TaouYuen, entirely understood her hopes, efforts, and that they were vain. 

An utter self-loathing possessed her at the same time, a feeling ofimminent danger as if she were walking with willfully shut eyes on theedge of a precipice above a black fatal void. Not a trace of thisappeared on her schooled countenance; and once more she completelyrestrained any defiling speech. She deliberately shifted her point ofview to another possible aspect of all that confronted her--it might bethat this woman was a specter, a _kwei_, bent on Gerrit's destruction. Such a thing often happened. How much better if Nettie Vollar had beenkilled! She studied her with a renewed interest--a fresh question. Perhaps the other would die as it was. She was extremely weak; herspirit, Taou Yuen saw, lay listlessly in a listless body. Nettie Vollarslightly moved her injured arm, and that little effort exhausted her fora moment; her eyes closed, her face was as white as salt. 

A further, almost philosophical, consideration engaged Taou Yuen'smind--this extraordinary occasion, her being with the other alone, NettieVollar's fragility, were, it might be, all a part of the working of therighteous _Yang_. In the light of this, then, she had been brought herefor a purpose ... The ending of a menace to her husband. She hesitatedfor a breath--if it were the opposite malignant _Yin_ there was no bottomto the infamy into which she might fall. It was a tremendous question. 

The actual execution of the practical suggestion, from either source, wasextremely easy; she had but to lean forward, draw her heavy sleeve acrossthe strained face, hold it there for a little, and Nettie Vollar wouldhave died of--of any one of a number of reasonable causes. She, TaouYuen, would call, politely distressed, for the mother ... Veryregrettable. 

Gerrit free--

Perhaps. 

She had no shrinking from the act itself, nothing that might have beencalled pity, a few more or less years in a single life were beneathserious consideration; it was the lives to come, the lingering doubt ofwhich power led her on, which restrained and filled her mind. A flickerof rage darted through her calm questioning; her mental processes againfaded. With her right arm across the supine body and enveloping the facein her left sleeve a single twist and Nettie Vollar would choke in acloud of thick satin made gay with unfading flowers and the embroideredsymbol of long life. She felt her body grow rigid with purpose when thesound of a footfall below held her motionless in an unreasoning dread. 

It was not heavy, yet she was certain that it was not the woman's. A blurof voices drifted up to her, the dejected feminine tone and a thinquerulous demand, surprise. Taou Yuen turned cold as stone: the sensationof oppressive danger increased until it seemed as if she, and not NettieVollar, were strangling. There was a profound stillness, then a shufflingtread on the stair, and Edward Dunsack entered, entered but stood withoutadvancing, his back against a closed door. 

Even since yesterday he had noticeably wasted, there were muscles of hisface that twitched continuously; his hands, it seemed to her, writhedlike worms. He said nothing, but stared at her with a fixed glitteringvision; all his one time worship--it had been so much--was devoured inthe hatred born in the Ammidon library. Frozen with apprehension she satwithout movement; her face, she felt, as still as a lacquered mask. 

To her astonishment--she had forgotten Nettie Vollar's existence--ashaken voice from the bed demanded:

"Uncle Edward, what's come over you! Don't you see Mrs. Ammidon! Oh--"her speech rose in a choked exclamation. Edward Dunsack had turned thekey and was crossing the room with a dark twisted face, his eyes starkand demented. Taou Yuen, swung round toward the advancing figure, heard along fluttering breath behind her. Perhaps Nettie Vollar had died offright. The terror in her own brain dried up before an overwhelmingrealization--she had betrayed herself to the principle of evil. She waslost. Her thoughts were at once incredibly rapid and entirely vivid, logical: Edward Dunsack, ruined, in China; herself blinded, confused, destroyed in America. Yesterday she had held him powerless with the merepotency of her righteousness; but now she had no strength. 

There was a loathsome murmur from his dusty lips. He intended to killher, to mar and spoil her throat, a degradation forbidden by Confucius, an eternal disfigurement. This filled her with a renewed energy ofhorror.... Here there was none but a feeble woman to hear her if shecalled. She rose mechanically, a hand on the table; Taou Yuen saw NettieVollar's deathly pallid face rolled awkwardly from the pillow, and thebowl of opium. There were twenty or more pills. Without hesitation, evenwith a sense of relief, she swept the contents of the bowl into her palm. The effort of swallowing so many hard particles was almost convulsive andfollowed with a nauseous spasm. 

Exhausted by mental effort she sank into a chair and a dullness likesmoke settled over her. The figure of Edward Dunsack retreated to aninfinite distance. The smoke moved in a great steady volume--the eternaland changeless Tao, without labor or desires, without.... Hatred requitedwith virtue ... Attracting all honor--mounting higher and higher from theconsuming passions, the seething black lives of her immeasurable fall. 

X

Although the late afternoon was at an hour when Derby Street should havebeen filled by a half-idle throng in the slackening of the day'swaterside employments Roger Brevard found it noticeably empty. In this hesuddenly recognized that the street was like the countingroom of theMongolian Marine Insurance Company, the heart of Salem's greatness--theywere weaker, stilled in a decline that yet was not evident in theimpressive body of the town. 

When he had first taken charge of this branch both Salem and it had beenof sufficient moment to attract him from New York; the company wasinsuring Boston and New York vessels; the captains had thronged its broadwindow commanding St. Peters and Essex Streets. Now only an occasionalshipmaster, holding the old traditions and habits or else retired, sat inthe comfortable armchairs with leather cushions drawn up at the coalhearth or expansive in white through the summer. 

His mind shifted to a consideration of these facts in relation tohimself--whether the same thing overtaking the place and marine insurancehad not settled upon him too--as he made his way from Central Wharf, where he had vainly gone for prospective business. His inquiry wasreaching a depressing certainty when, passing and gazing down HardyStreet, he saw the Ammidon barouche standing in front of the Dunsacks'. 

Roger Brevard stopped: the Ammidon men, he knew, seldom drove aboutSalem. He had heard of Nettie Vollar's accident and came to theconclusion that Rhoda was within. If this were so, her visit, limited toa charitable impulse, would be short; and thinking of the pleasure ofdriving with her he turned into the side way. As he approached, thecoachman met him with an evident impatience. 

"No, sir, " he replied to Brevard's inquiry. "But we were to get Mrs. Ammidon at the bookstore. Mrs. Captain Gerrit called here for her, butshe went inside unexpected. All of an hour ago. I don't like to ask forthe lady, but what may be said later I can't think. "

He had scarcely finished speaking when a woman whom Brevard recognizedas Kate Vollar appeared at the door. "Oh, Mr. Brevard!" she exclaimedwith an unnaturally pallid and apprehensive face. "I'm glad to findyou. Please come upstairs with me. Why I don't know but I'm all in atremble. Mrs. Ammidon went to see Nettie, then Edward came in, and whenhe heard who was there he acted as if he were struck dumb and went uplike a person afflicted. I waited the longest while and then followedthem and knocked. Why the door was shut I'd never tell you. But theydidn't answer, any of them, " she declared with clasped straining hands. "Three in the room and not a sound. Please--" her voice was suddenlysuffocated by dread. 

"Certainly. Quarles, " he addressed the coachman, "I'll get you to comealong. If there is a lock to break it will need a heavier shoulderthan mine. "

Mounting the narrow somber stair, followed by the man and Kate Vollar, hewondered vainly what might have happened. Obscurely some of the woman'sfear was communicated to him. Brevard knocked abruptly on the doorindicated but there was no answering voice or movement. He tried thelatch: as Nettie's mother had found, it was fastened. 

"Quarles, " Roger Brevard said curtly. 

The coachman stepped forward, braced himself for the shove he directedagainst the wooden barrier, and the door swept splintering inward. Rogeradvanced first and a grim confusion touched him with cold horror. TaouYuen was half seated and half lying across a table beside the bed; hecouldn't see her face, but her body was utterly lax. Nettie Vollar, too, was in a dreadful waxen similitude of death, with lead colored lips andfixed sightless eyes. A slight extraordinary sound rose behind him, andwhirling, Brevard discovered that it was Edward Dunsack giggling. He wassilent immediately under the other's scrutiny, and an expression ofstubborn and malicious caution pinched his wasted sardonic countenance. 

Brevard turned to the greater necessity of the women, and moved Taou Yuenso that he could see her features. It was evident that she was not, as hehad first thought, dead; her breathing was slow and deep and harsh, herpulse deliberate and full; she was warm, too, but her face was suffusedby an unnatural blueness and the pupils of her inert eyes were barelydiscernible. He shook her with an unceremonious vigor, but there was noanswering energy; she fell across his arm in a sheer weight ofsatin-covered body. He moved back in a momentary uncontrollable repulsionwhen Kate Vollar threw herself past him onto the bed. "Nettie!" shecried, "Nettie! Nettie!" Brevard was chilled by the possibility of anunutterable tragedy, when with a faint suffusion of color the girl gave agasping sigh. Her voice stirred in a terror shaken whisper:

"Uncle Edward, don't! Why--don't. Oh!" She pressed her face with a longshudder into the pillow. "Whatever was it--?" her mother began wildly. Brevard caught her shoulder. "Not now, " he directed; "you'll comedownstairs with me. We must have help at once and your daughter quiet. "

However he was in a quandary--he couldn't trust the woman here, he wouldhave to go immediately for assistance, and yet it was impossible to leaveNettie Vollar and Gerrit's wife alone. "You will have to wait in theroom, " he decided, turning to Quarles. 

Edward Dunsack was wavering against a wall; Brevard went swiftly up tohim. "We'll need you, " he said shortly. Dunsack maintained his silenceand air of stubborn cunning; but, when the other man clasped hisincredibly thin arm, he went willingly followed by Kate Vollar below. There he sat obediently, his judicious detachment broken by a repetitionof the thin shocking snigger. 

"You must be responsible for your brother, " Roger Brevard told thequivering woman. "I'll be back immediately. Now that you know Nettie'ssafe you must control yourself. No one should go up--keep everybodyout--till you hear from me or the doctor or Captain Ammidon. "

What an inexplicable accident or crime, he thought, hurriedly approachingthe countinghouse of Ammidon, Ammidon and Saltonstone, the first andnearest of the places to which he must go. He could remember no mark ofwhat had overcome Taou Yuen. How was Dunsack, who was now clearlydemented, implicated? What racking thing had Nettie Vollar seen?

In the subsequent exclamatory rush, even on the following morning whenRoger Brevard learned that--poisoned by opium undoubtedly taken byherself--Gerrit Ammidon's wife had died without regaining consciousness, the greater part of the tragedy became little clearer. No statement couldbe had from Edward Dunsack other than a meaningless array ofprecautionary phrases; and returning in a sliding gait toward HardyStreet he was put under a temporary restraint. 

Nettie Vollar, Brevard heard, had relapsed from her injury into a secondcritical collapse. Yet, he told himself, entering the room that was hishome in Mrs. Cane's large square house on Chestnut Street, that theManchu still absorbed his speculations. 

It was a pleasant room and a pleasant house with a dignified portico; andhis tall windows, back on the right of the second floor, opened on thelength of the Napiers' garden. Brevard sat looking out over a dimleafiness of evening and tried to discipline his thoughts into order andcoherence. Any dignity of death had been soiled by the ugly mystery ofthe aspects surrounding the end of Taou Yuen. 

He had liked her extremely well, agreeing with Rhoda Ammidon that, probably, they had never been permitted to know a more aristocraticbreeding or greater degrees of purely worldly and mental and personalcharm than those of Gerrit's wife. 

His mind grew more philosophical and a perception, yet without base infacts, convinced him that Taou Yuen had been killed by America. It was afantastic thought, and he attempted to dismiss it, waiting for moresecure knowledge, but it persisted. She had been killed by unfamiliarcircumstances, tradition, emotions. In some manner, but how he was unableto disentangle from the pressures of mere curiosity and conjecture, Nettie Vollar--or rather Gerrit's old passing affair with Nettie--hadentered into the unhappy occurrence. After an hour's vain search he gaveup all effort to pierce the darkness until he had actual knowledge--if heever had, he was forced to add silently. It was possible that the secretmight be entirely guarded from the public, even from the closer part hehad played and his familiarity with the Ammidon family. 

He was an inmate of their inner garden with its lilac trees and hedgedroses in season, the pungent beds of flowers and box, the moonshade ofthe poplars. Roger Brevard turned from the consideration of Taou Yuen tothe even more insistent claim of his increasing affection for Sidsall. Hestopped again both to lament and delight in her youth--another year andhe would have unhesitatingly announced his feeling as love to them all. It was that, he admitted to himself almost shyly. The obvious thing wasfor him to wait through the year or more until the Ammidons would hear ofa proposal and then urge his desire.... He could see her quite oftenmeanwhile. 

Yes, that was the sensible course, even in the face of his ownmultiplying years. They were twenty-five more than Sidsall's; yet, headded in self-extenuation, he was not definitely snared in middle age; hewas still elastic in body and youthful, but for graying hair, inappearance. His birth was eligible from every social consideration; and, though he was not rich, he had enough independently to assure the safetyof his wife's future. This did not come entirely, or now even in thelarger part, from the Mongolian Marine Insurance Company, but took theform of a comparatively small but secure private income. 

He paused to wonder if it had not been that latter fact which hadprevented his being successful--successful, that was, in WilliamAmmidon's meaning of the word. He had not made money nor a position ofimportance among men of affairs. Such safety, he decided, was a dangerouspossession judged by the standards he was now considering. A few thousanda year for life struck at the root of activity. It induced a criticaldetached attitude toward life, overemphasized the importance of the cutof a trouser and the validity of pedigree. It was a mistake to dancenoticeably well. 

Drifting, together with almost everyone else, he had reached hispresent position, past forty, by imperceptible degrees, obscurelyinfluenced by the play of what he intrinsically was on circumstances oraccident or fate. 

Although he had never done so before, he compared himself with GerritAmmidon. The other's refusal to accept a partnership in the family firmor command a California clipper was known. Gerrit and himself werealike in that they apprehended the values of life more clearly than didthe ordinary mind or heart. But, in retaliation, the world theydiffered from curtly brushed them aside. Roger Brevard could not seethat they had made the least mark on the callous normal cruelty or theaesthetic and spiritual blindness of the existence they shared. But itwas always possible that something bigger than their grasp of justiceor beauty was afoot. 

He turned from the darkened prospect of the window and his thoughts tothe room. Without a light he removed his formal street clothes, hangingthe coat and waistcoat, folding the trousers in a drawer, with exactcare; changing his light boots for fiber slippers he set the former inthe row of footgear drawn up like a military review against the wall. Though it was quite obscure now, and no one would see him, he paused tobrush his slightly disarranged hair, before--tying the cord of hischamber robe--he resumed his seat. 

The year, he reverted to Sidsall, would pass; but, try as he might, hehad no feeling of security in the future, however near. It was thepresent, this Sidsall, that filled him with a tyrannical and bitterlonging. She was unbelievably beautiful now. Against the faintness of hishope, his patience, he saw the whole slow process of the disintegrationof marine insurance, and with it his own fatuous insensibility to thedecline: that decline with its exact counterpart in himself. Salem and hewere getting dusty together. 

He straightened up vigorously in his chair--this would never do. He mustwind up his affairs here and return to New York. The tranquil backwaterhad overpowered him for a time; but, again awake, he would strike outstrongly... With Sidsall. Endless doubt and hope fluctuated within him. Voices rose from the Napier garden, and from a tree sounded the whirringof the first locust he had noticed that summer. 

On a noon following he saw the passage of the three or four carriagesthat constituted the funeral cortège of Taou Yuen's entirely privateinterment. She would be buried of course by Christian service: here werenone of the elaborate Confucian rites and ceremonial; yet--from what TaouYuen had occasionally indicated--Confucius, Lao-tze, the Buddha, were allmore alike than different; they all vainly preached humility, purity, thesubjugation of the flesh. He stopped later in the Charter Street cemeteryand found her grave, the headstone marked:

TAOU YUENA MANCHURIAN LADYTHE WIFEOFGERRIT AMMIDON, ESQ. And the dates. 

He saw, naturally, but little of the Ammidons--a glimpse of Rhoda in thecarriage and William on Charter Street; the _Nautilus_, ready for sea, continued in her berth at Phillips' Wharf. Fragments of news came to himquoted and re-quoted, grotesquely exaggerated and even malicious reportsof the tragedy at the Dunsacks'. Standing at his high desk in thecountingroom of the Mongolian Marine Insurance Company, Taou Yuen'sglittering passage through Salem already seemed to him a fable, a dream. Even Sidsall, robustly near by, had an aspect of unreality in the tenderfabric of his visions. Captain Rendell, his spade beard at the verge offilmed old eyes, who was seated at the window, rose with difficulty. Fora moment he swayed on insecure legs, then, barely gathering the necessarypower, moved out into the street. 

Later, when Roger Brevard was turning the key on the insurance companyfor the day, Lacy Saltonstone stopped to speak in her charming slowmanner: "Mother of course is in a whirl, with Captain Ammidon about tomarry that Nettie Vollar, since she is recovering after all, and ourmoving to Boston.... You see I'm there so often it will make really verylittle difference to me. Sidsall is the lucky one, though you'd neverknow it from seeing her.... I thought you'd have heard--why, to Lausanne, a tremendously impressive school for a year. They have promised herLondon afterward. I would call that a promise, but actually, Sidsall--. "

"Doesn't she want to go?" he asked mechanically, all the emotions thathad chimed through his being suddenly clashing in a discordant misery. Hebowed absently, and hastening to his room softly closed the door and satwithout supper, late into the evening, lost in a bitterness thatcontinually poisoned the resolutions formed out of his overwhelming need. He was aghast at the inner violence that destroyed the long tranquilityof his existence, the clenched hands and spoken words lost in the shadowsover the Napiers' garden. He wanted Sidsall with a breathless tyrannyinfinitely sharper than any pang of youth: she was life itself. 

She didn't want to go, Lacy had made that clear; and he told himself thather reluctance could only, must, proceed from one cause--that she caredfor him. As he dwelt on this, the one alleviating possibility, he becamecertain of its truth. He would find her at once and in spite of Rhoda andWilliam Ammidon explain that his whole hope lay in marrying her. With anutter contempt at all the small orderly habits which, he now saw, werethe expression of a confirmed dry preciseness, he left his clothes in adisorderly heap. Such a feeling as Sidsall's and his, he repeated fromthe oppressive expanse of his black walnut bed, was above ordinaryprecautions and observance. Then, unable to dismiss the thought of howcrumpled his trousers would be in the morning, oppressed by the pictureof the tumbled garments, he finally rose and, in the dark, relaid them inthe familiar smooth array. 

In the morning his disturbance resolved into what seemed a very decidedand reasonable attitude: He would see Rhoda that day and explain hisfeeling and establish what rights and agreement he could. He was willingto admit that Sidsall was, perhaps, too young for an immediate decisionso wide in results. The ache, the hunger for happiness sharpened by vaguepremonitions of mischance, began again to pound in his heart. 

At the Ammidons' it was clear immediately that Rhoda's manner toward himhad changed: it had become more social, even voluble, and restrained. Sheconversed brightly about trivial happenings, while he sat listening, gravely silent. But it was evident that she soon became aware of hisdifference, and her voice grew sharper, almost antagonistic. They were inthe formal parlor, a significant detail in itself, and Roger Brevard sawWilliam pass the door. Well, he would soon have to go, he must speakabout Sidsall now. It promised to be unexpectedly difficult; but thewords were forming when she came into the room. 

There were faint shadows under her eyes, the unmistakable marks of tears. An overwhelming passion for her choked at his throat. She came directlyup to him, ignoring her mother. "Did you hear that they want me to goaway?" she asked. He nodded, "It's that I came to see your mother about. "

"They know I don't want to, " she continued; "I've explained it to themvery carefully. "

"My dear Sidsall, " Rhoda Ammidon cut in; "we can't have this. What Rogerhas to say must be for me and your father. " The girl smiled at her andturned again to Roger Brevard. "Do you want me to go?"

"No!" he cried, all his planning lost in uncontrollable rebellion. 

"Then I don't think I shall. "

William entered and stood at his wife's shoulder. "You won't insist, "Sidsall faced them quietly. "Ridiculous, " her father replied. Brevardrealized that he must support the girl's bravery of spirit. Howadorable she was! But, before the overwhelming superior position of theelder Ammidons, their weight of propriety and authority, hisdetermination wavered. 

"To be quite frank, " the other man proceeded, "since it has been forcedon us, Sidsall imagines herself in love with you, Brevard. I don't needto remind you how unsuitable and preposterous that is. She's too young toknow the meaning of love. Besides, my dear fellow, you're a quartercentury her elder. We want Sidsall to go to London like her mother, haveher cotillions, before she settles into marriage. "

"They can't understand, Roger, " Sidsall touched his hand. "We're sorry todisappoint them--"

"You ought to be made to leave the room, " William fumed. 

"That isn't necessary, " Rhoda told him. "I am sure Roger understandsperfectly how impossible it is. You mustn't be hurt, " she turned to him, "if I admit that we have very different plans... At least a man nearerSidsall's age. "

The girl lifted a confident face to him. "You want to marry me, don'tyou?" she asked. More than any other conceivable joy. But he said thissilently. His courage slowly ebbed before the parental displeasureviewing him coldly. "Then--" Sidsall paused expectantly, a touch ofimpatience even invaded her manner. "Please tell them, Roger. "

"Why I have to put up with this is beyond me, " William Ammidonexpostulated with his wife. "It's shameless. "

Roger Brevard winced. He tried to say something about hope and thefuture, but it was so weak, a palpable retreat, leaving Sidsall alone andunsupported, that the words perished unfinished. The girl studied him, suddenly startled, and her confidence ebbed. He turned away, crushed byconvention, filled with shame and a sense of self-betrayal. 

A stillness followed of unendurable length, in which he found hisattention resting on the diversified shapes of the East India money in acorner cabinet. It was Sidsall who finally spoke, slowly and clearly:

"Forgive me. "

He recognized that she was addressing her mother and father. From awhisper of skirts he realized that she was leaving the room. Without thewill necessary for a last glimpse he stood with his head bowed by anappalling sensation of weariness and years. 

In a flash of self-comprehension, Roger Brevard knew that he would never, as he had hoped, leave Salem. He was an abstemious man, one of a familyof long lives, and he would linger here, increasingly unimportant, for agreat while, an old man in new epochs, isolated among strange people andprejudices. Whatever the cause--the small safety or an inward flaw--hehad never been part of the corporate sweating humanity where, in the warof spirit and flesh, the vital rewards and accomplishments were found. 

Soon after he passed Gerrit and Nettie Vollar driving in the direction ofthe harbor; she was lying back wanly in the Ammidon barouche, but hercompanion's face was set directly ahead, his expression of generaldisdain strongly marked. A vigorous hand, Roger noted, was clasped aboutNettie's supine palm. She saw him standing on the sidewalk and bowedslightly, but the shipmaster plainly overlooked him together with therest of Salem. 

The end of summer was imminent in a whirl of yellow leaves and chill graywind. There was a ringing of bugles through the morning, the strains ofmilitary quicksteps, rhythmic tramping feet and the irregular fulminationof salutes. That it was already the day of the annual Fall Review seemedincredible to Roger Brevard. He was indifferent to the activities of theCommon; but when he heard that the _Nautilus_ was sailing in the middleof the afternoon he left his inconsequential affairs for Phillips' Wharf. 

A small number were waiting on the solid rock-filled reach, thewharfinger's office at its head and a stone warehouse blocking the end, where the _Nautilus_ lay with her high-steeved bowsprit pointing outward. The harbor was slaty, cold, and there was a continuous slapping of smallwaves on the shore. Darkening clouds hung low in the west, out of whichthe wind cut in flaws across the open. The town, so lately folded in lushgreenery, showed a dun lift of roofs and stripping branches tossingagainst an ashy sky. 

Close beside Roger stood Barzil Dunsack, his beard blowing, with KateVollar in a bright red shawl, her skirts whipping uneasily against herfather's legs. Beyond were the Ammidons--William, and Rhoda in a deepfurred wrap, and their daughters. Rhoda waved for him to join them, buthe declined with a gesture of acknowledgment. 

The deck of the _Nautilus_ was above his vision but he could see most ofthe stir of departure. The peremptory voice of the mate rose from thebow, minor directions were issued by the second mate aft, a seaman wasaloft on the main-royal yard and another stood at the stage risingsharply from the wharf. Gerrit and his wife had not yet arrived, and thepilot, making a leisurely appearance, stopped to exchange remarks withthe Ammidons. He climbed on board the ship and Roger could see his headand shoulders moving toward the poop and mounting the ladder. 

The wind grew higher, shriller, every moment; it was thrashing among thestays and braces; the man aloft, a small movement against the clouds, swayed in its force. There was a faint clatter of hoofs from DerbyStreet, Brevard had a fleeting glimpse of an arriving carriage, andGerrit, supporting Nettie Ammidon, advanced over the wharf. Theshipmaster walked slowly, the woman clinging, almost dragging, at hiserect strength. They went close by Roger: Nettie's pale face, her largeshining dark eyes, were filled with placid surrender. Her companion spokein a low grave tone, and she looked up at him in a tired and happyacquiescence. 

The two families joined, and there was a confused determined gayety offarewell and good wishes. Out of it finally emerged the captain of the_Nautilus_ and the slight figure upon his arm. He wore a beaver hat, and, as they mounted the stage, he was forced to hold it on with his freehand. When the quarter-deck was reached they disappeared into the cabin. 

"Mr. Broadrick, " the pilot called, "you can get in those bow fasts. Senda hawser to the end of the wharf; I'm going to warp out. " There was aharsh answering clatter as the mooring chain that held the bow of the_Nautilus_ was secured, and a group of sailors went smartly forward witha hemp cable to the end of the wharf's seaward thrust. The _Nautilus_ layon the eastern side, with the wind beating over the starboard quarter, and there was little difficulty in getting under way. Strain was kept onthe stern and breast fasts while the mate directed:

"Ship your capstan bars. "

The capstan turned and the _Nautilus_ moved forward to the beat of song. 

"Low lands, low lands, hurrah, my John, I thought I heard the old man say. Low lands, low lands, hurrah, my John, We'll get some rum ...... Hurrah, my John. Then shake her--"

"Vast heaving, " Mr. Broadrick shouted. 

The intimate spectators on Phillips' Wharf movedout with the ship. Gerrit Ammidon was now visible on the quarter-deckwith the pilot. He walked to the port railing aft and stood gazingsomberly back at Salem. The stovepipe hat was not yet discarded, and thehand firmly holding its brim resembled a final gesture of contempt. Thepilot approached him, there was a brief exchange of words, and the formersharply ordered:

"Stand by to run up your jib and fore-topmast staysail, Mr. Broadrick. Put two good men at the sheets and see that those sails don't slat topieces. 

"On the wharf there--take that stern fast out to the last ringbolt. Mr. Second Mate... Get your fenders aboard. " The wind increased in a violencetipped with stinging rain. "Give her the jib and stay-sail. " She heeledslightly and gathered steerage way. Roger Brevard involuntarily waved aparting salutation. An extraordinary emotion swept over him: a ship boundto the East always stirred his imagination and sense of beauty, but thedeparture of the _Nautilus_ had a special significance. It was thebeginning, yes, and the end, of almost the whole sweep of human sufferingand despair, of longing and hope and passion, and a reward. 

"Let go the stern fast. Steady your helm there. "

"Steady, sir. "

A mere gust of song was distinguishable against the blast of storm. Underthe lee of the stone warehouse, on the solidity of the wharf, the land, Roger Brevard watched the _Nautilus_ while one by one the topsails weresheeted home and the yards mastheaded. "A gale by night, " somebodysaid. The ship, driving with surprising speed toward the open sea, wasnow apparently no more than a fragile shell on the immensity of the starkhorizon. 

The light faded: the days were growing shorter. Alone Brevard followedthe others moving away. Kate Vollar's red shawl suddenly streamed out andwas secured by a wasted hand. Just that way, he thought, the color andvividness of his existence had been withdrawn. 

THE END