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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she would only shake her head.

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

Still she only shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have seen my feet,” she said.

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

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

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

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

I could not convince her though.

She only shook her head and silently wept.


* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I invited myself,” he said.

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

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

“You could call it that.”

“I’m sure that is unnecessary.”

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