Mr. Spring Fragrance sat on his doorstep. He had been reading two
letters, one from Mrs. Spring Fragrance, and the other from an elderly
bachelor cousin in San Francisco. The one from the elderly bachelor
cousin was a business letter, but contained the following postscript:
Tsen Hing, the son of the Government school-master, seems to be much
in the company of your young wife. He is a good-looking youth, and
pardon me, my dear cousin; but if women are allowed to stray at will
from under their husbands’ mulberry roofs, what is to prevent them
from becoming butterflies?
“Sing Foon is old and cynical,” said Mr. Spring Fragrance to himself.
“Why should I pay any attention to him? This is America, where a man may
speak to a woman, and a woman listen, without any thought of evil.”
He destroyed his cousin’s letter and re-read his wife’s. Then he became
very thoughtful. Was the making of American fudge sufficient reason for
a wife to wish to remain a week longer in a city where her husband was
not?
The young man who lived in the next house came out to water the lawn.
“Good evening,” said he. “Any news from Mrs. Spring Fragrance?”
“She is having a very good time,” returned Mr. Spring Fragrance.
“Glad to hear it. I think you told me she was to return the end of this
week.”
“I have changed my mind about her,” said Mr. Spring Fragrance. “I am
bidding her remain a week longer, as I wish to give a smoking party
during her absence. I hope I may have the pleasure of your company.”
“I shall be delighted,” returned the young fellow. “But, Mr. Spring
Fragrance, don’t invite any other white fellows. If you do not I shall
be able to get in a scoop. You know, I’m a sort of honorary reporter for
the _Gleaner_.”
“Very well,” absently answered Mr. Spring Fragrance.
“Of course, your friend the Consul will be present. I shall call it ‘A
high-class Chinese stag party!’”
In spite of his melancholy mood, Mr. Spring Fragrance smiled.
“Everything is ‘high-class’ in America,” he observed.
“Sure!” cheerfully assented the young man. “Haven’t you ever heard that
all Americans are princes and princesses, and just as soon as a
foreigner puts his foot upon our shores, he also becomes of the
nobility—I mean, the royal family.”
“What about my brother in the Detention Pen?” dryly inquired Mr. Spring
Fragrance.
“Now, you’ve got me,” said the young man, rubbing his head. “Well, that
is a shame—‘a beastly shame,’ as the Englishman says. But understand,
old fellow, we that are real Americans are up against that—even more
than you. It is against our principles.”
“I offer the real Americans my consolations that they should be
compelled to do that which is against their principles.”
“Oh, well, it will all come right some day. We’re not a bad sort, you
know. Think of the indemnity money returned to the Dragon by Uncle Sam.”
Mr. Spring Fragrance puffed his pipe in silence for some moments. More
than politics was troubling his mind.
At last he spoke. “Love,” said he, slowly and distinctly, “comes before
the wedding in this country, does it not?”
“Yes, certainly.”
Young Carman knew Mr. Spring Fragrance well enough to receive with
calmness his most astounding queries.
“Presuming,” continued Mr. Spring Fragrance—“presuming that some friend
of your father’s, living—presuming—in England—has a daughter that he
arranges with your father to be your wife. Presuming that you have never
seen that daughter, but that you marry her, knowing her not. Presuming
that she marries you, knowing you not.—After she marries you and knows
you, will that woman love you?”
“Emphatically, no,” answered the young man.
“That is the way it would be in America—that the woman who marries the
man like that—would not love him?”
“Yes, that is the way it would be in America. Love, in this country,
must be free, or it is not love at all.”
“In China, it is different!” mused Mr. Spring Fragrance.
“Oh, yes, I have no doubt that in China it is different.”
“But the love is in the heart all the same,” went on Mr. Spring
Fragrance.
“Yes, all the same. Everybody falls in love some time or another.
Some”—pensively—“many times.”
Mr. Spring Fragrance arose.
“I must go down town,” said he.
As he walked down the street he recalled the remark of a business
acquaintance who had met his wife and had had some conversation with
her: “She is just like an American woman.”
He had felt somewhat flattered when this remark had been made. He looked
upon it as a compliment to his wife’s cleverness; but it rankled in his
mind as he entered the telegraph office. If his wife was becoming as an
American woman, would it not be possible for her to love as an American
woman—a man to whom she was not married? There also floated in his
memory the verse which his wife had quoted to the daughter of Chin Yuen.
When the telegraph clerk handed him a blank, he wrote this message:
“Remain as you wish, but remember that ‘’Tis better to have loved and
lost, than never to have loved at all.’”
When Mrs. Spring Fragrance received this message, her laughter tinkled
like falling water. How droll! How delightful! Here was her husband
quoting American poetry in a telegram. Perhaps he had been reading her
American poetry books since she had left him! She hoped so. They would
lead him to understand her sympathy for her dear Laura and Kai Tzu. She
need no longer keep from him their secret. How joyful! It had been such
a hardship to refrain from confiding in him before. But discreetness had
been most necessary, seeing that Mr. Spring Fragrance entertained as
old-fashioned notions concerning marriage as did the Chin Yuen parents.
Strange that that should be so, since he had fallen in love with her
picture before _ever_ he had seen her, just as she had fallen in love
with his! And when the marriage veil was lifted and each beheld the
other for the first time in the flesh, there had been no disillusion—no
lessening of the respect and affection, which those who had brought
about the marriage had inspired in each young heart.
Mrs. Spring Fragrance began to wish she could fall asleep and wake to
find the week flown, and she in her own little home pouring tea for Mr.
Spring Fragrance.