hat can come to Chinese women, as she fully
realizes that for this cause her husband is justified in putting her away
for another wife, and she may not complain or cry out, except in
secret, to her Goddess of Mercy, who has not answered her prayers.
Understanding this, we can dimly realise the joy of Kwei-li upon the
birth of her son, and her despair upon his death.

At this time, when she was in very depths of despondency, when she
had turned from the gods of her people, when it was feared that her
sorrow, near to madness, she would take the little round ball of
sleep-- opium-- that was brought rest to so many despairing women in
China, her servants brought her the Gospel of St. John, which they
bought of an itinerant colporteur in the market-place, hoping that it
might interest her. In the long nights when sleep would not come to
her, she read it-- and found the peace she sought.

1
My Dear One,
The house on the mountain-top has lost its soul. It is nothing but a
palace with empty windows. I go upon the terrace and look over the
valley where the sun sinks a golden red ball, casting long purple
shadows on the plain. Then I remember that thou art not coming from
the city to me, and I stay to myself that there can be no dawn that I
care to see, and no sunset to gladden my eyes, unless I share it with
thee.

[Illustration: Mylady02.]

But do not think I am unhappy. I do everything the same as if thou
wert here, and in everything I say, "Would this please my master?"
Meh-ki wished to put thy long chair away, as she said it was too big;
but I did not permit. It must rest where I can look at it and imagine I
see thee lying it, smoking thy water pipe; and the small table is
always near by, where thou canst reach out thy hand for thy papers
and the drink thou lovest. Meh-ki also brought out the dwarf pine-tree
and put it on the terrace, but I remembered thou saidst it looked like
an old man who had been beaten in his childhood, and I gave it to her
for one of the inner courtyards. She thinks it very beautiful, and so I
did once; but I have learned to see with thine eyes, and I know now
that a tree made straight and beautiful and tall by the Gods is more to
be regarded than one that has been bent and twisted by man.

Such a long letter I am writing thee. I am so glad that though madest
me promise to write thee every seventh day, and to tell thee all that
passes within my household and my heart. Thine Honourable Mot