“Anthony! what are you smiling at? What makes you look like that?”
It was a moment before I could compose my features. She had folded her
hands in her lap. Her eyes followed mine to the watch on her wrist as I
said--
“Your train left the East Station sixteen minutes ago.”
She drew her under lip in a little way between her teeth, as I had seen
her do so many times when she was startled. Then, “Oh, Anthony!” she
said, laughing a little--“the big trunk has gone with it.”
*****
We shall get the trunk back all right. It was just a matter of
telegraphing Tientsin. The baggage master here attended to it for me.
The refunding of Heloise's ticket money proves to be a more
complicated matter. There is no Public-Service Commission to direct
the Trans-Siberian in such matters--nothing but the Russian and Chinese
Governments. Hindmann thinks that they may be willing to give back half
of it. He says that is a common rule among the big steamship companies.
Half the railway fare, that is; there will be no refunding of what was
paid for the berth, of course. Anyway, Hindmann has taken the ticket and
says he can probably get something done within the week.
For myself, I find it difficult to take this matter seriously. I
could cheerfully let the money go. But Heloise, I can see, is a little
disturbed over it.
We discussed the question of a marriage, this afternoon, she and I. We
both want some sort of ceremony. Mainly, I suppose, for the effect on
ourselves. And since we are here, with nothing to do but go ahead with
our work and our lives, neither Heloise nor I can see any sound reason
for delaying. If we were back home, or if she were among friends, it
might be well to wait. Though I doubt even that. It would be merely a
conventional observance, and would serve no healthy purpose. No, our job
now is to go straight ahead with the life that we are to share. And we
may as well be about it. So we shall be married, quietly and soberly,
sometime within the next few days.
I had thought of the Consulate. But some telephoning on the part of
Hindmann drew out the information that our consular and diplomatic
officials are not permitted to solemnize marriages, nor to advise
regarding the legality of the arrangements. The Consul-General is
willing to witness the ceremony officially, but we should have to go
down to Tientsin for that, and we both want to be married here in Peking
if it is possible.
The peculiar complication is, of course, that China, as an Oriental,
non-Christian country, does not solemnize marriages in any way that is
recognized in the West. If we were in a European country now, all
that would be necessary would be to conform to local customs. But
international observances, as among Western peoples, do not hold where
China is concerned.
Finally Hindmann said,
“What's the matter with a missionary brother?”
“Why, of course!” replied Heloise. “Aren't we stupid? They are
ministers. And I don't think it matters what particular place they
happen to be in when they say the words.”
Hindmann is inclined to think that we had best go down after all to the
Tientsin Consulate and be married there, either by a missionary or by
a minister of one of the Settlements. “There's several thousand white
folks there,” said he. “Pretty sure to be some preachers among 'em.
Then, you see, the Consul-General will give you each a certificate, and
besides he'll have the marriage put on record at the State Department at
Washington. That way, it 'll hold all right, I guess.”
Heloise and I covertly exchanged glances. We know what is in our hearts
Certificates!...
_On the Steamer, “Hsing Mien,”, Yangtze River. May 1st._
|I FOUND this volume of my journal to-day at the bottom of my trunk. I
do not understand why I wrote it. My life is so astonishingly
different now. Yet for many years I rarely missed a day. In the earlier
volumes--left in my tin trunk, at Peking, with my other books and
papers--each little step of the laborious, day-by-day work that has
so slowly brought me to my present mastery of my subject, is carefully
noted down. I rarely noted mere moods, conversations, personal
interests, until this journey to the East. I am amazed, in turning the
leaves of this latest and (I think) last volume, to observe that it is
almost wholly personal. But I suppose this is natural, considering the
extraordinarily personal nature of the events in which I have played so
curious and, in the outcome, so wonderful a part.
I don't think I shall make any effort to keep it up. It was the
companion of my solitary years. There is no longer the inclination--or
even the time. I have a better companion. Why, I hardly realized, until
this afternoon, that it has been all but forgotten for ten days. Since
my eighteenth birthday, when I began my series of journals in earnest,
I have never before neglected this work for a greater space than three
days. Excepting, of course, when I was operated upon, four years ago.
As regards my working notes, Heloise insists on keeping those herself.
She has discarded the journal method as cumbersome and difficult to
index. She has ordered a series of loose-leaf blank books from Kelly and
Walsh, at Shanghai. Meantime she is keeping all my memoranda on cards.
It is rather a surprise to me that I can permit her to rearrange my
habits of work in this fashion. But I do permit it. I am even forced to
admit that she is already an invaluable assistant.
She says that she wants to help all she can in my work now, while it is
possible. Later there will be complications of one sort or the other.
She is right at her own work, too; but that, she says, is fun. And she
practices every day. I observe her, from hour to hour and day to day, in
a curious sort of wonder. It will be some time, I see, before I shall
really grow to accept it all as fact. I am living in a miracle.
This steamer is a large, modern affair, with electric lights and a very
fair table. We are going down to Nanking--three days from Hankow. We
came to Hankow by rail from Peking; an interesting journey, and not
uncomfortable, barring the dust.
Nanking has been recommended to me as a center of much of the
traditional musical culture of China. And as the Yangtze Valley, they
say, becomes unbearably hot in the summer-time, we thought it advisable
to spend a few weeks there before the worst of the heat sets in. Also,
there is some talk that another revolution may break out there, later
on. From there we go on to Shanghai for a period of study; then,
doubtless, back to Peking and Tientsin.
The great Yangtze proves rather disappointing, scenically. So far, the
banks have been flat and muddy most of the way. And the water is yellow
when it is not a muddy gray.
But the junks are interesting, with their high timbered sterns and the
brown sails with bamboo ribs. Too, I rather like the water buffalo
that stand knee deep near the banks and sullenly watch us as we plow
majestically by. And the river ports, of course, are quite fascinating.
The water beggars paddle out in sampans and large round tubs, and bold
up baskets on the ends of bamboo poles in which we of the regal upper
deck are supposed to deposit brass cash and small silver.
I have been writing this on the long table in the room that is at once
social hall and dining-room for the first cabin passengers. Chinese
“boys” slip about in their soft shoes. At the farther end of the table
the second engineer--a Scotchman, of course--is playing Sousa records on
the talking machine that is his chiefest treasure in this lonely land.
He is entertaining a bearded English globe-trotter and an American
military man. I can't recall the name of this latter, though we met at
the Legation in Peking. We always bow.
Heloise has just come from our stateroom. She has taken the seat
opposite, and is watching me as I write. She is smiling a little. I know
this, though I will not look up. Not until I finish. For once my eyes
rest on hers, my pen will stop.
I know what she wants. It is near the sunset hour. She likes me to be
out on deck with her then, and at moonrise. She feels these wonders
in some deep corner of her nature. She always becomes very silent, and
presses close against my arm.
I can feel her eyes on me. I shall not be able to hold out much longer.
I want to laugh, and you can not write to any purpose when you are
laughing....