DARK DAYS
The home Everlasting Pearl had entered was not a rich one. The members
were all simple, hard-working people, ordinary country farmers who had
to earn their living by the sweat of their brow. But they were honest
and peace-loving, and the five brothers worked together in unity.
Although one of the Chinese sages had said:
Let brotherly love in the home abound
And to gold will be changed the dust of the ground,
the gold seemed a long time coming to the Hsü family. They were able
by steady work to make a comfortable living at their farming, but there
was little over to make a fortune. On the whole, Everlasting Pearl was
moderately happy. Her husband was quite satisfied with his bright
young wife, and treated her kindly. The mother-in-law was rather hard
on her and inconsiderate, but the father-in-law loved her as a
daughter, and made things as easy as possible. Her husband's brothers,
too, were kind, and she went about her common task cheerfully, quite
ready to take her share in the household work.
Four years passed peacefully, but no child came to gladden the home,
and that was a sore disappointment to the young people. The
mother-in-law too was disappointed, and did not look very kindly on the
young wife who was trying so hard to do her duty. Old Mr. Hsü had left
this world. For three days and nights the Taoist priests had come to
chant their formulas, promising to cleanse the house from evil spirits,
and to break open the door of hell and rescue the soul of the departed
father. There was real sorrow in Everlasting Pearl's heart as she
knelt near the coffin wailing. The old man had been like a father to
her, and had helped her over many rough places. She knew things would
be harder without him, but little did she realize what heavy trials
awaited her. A merciful God had hidden the knowledge from her sight,
or her inborn courage might have failed.
During the fifth year of Everlasting Pearl's married life her sorrows
began. Twice within a few months she was summoned to the deathbed of
her loved ones. She first knelt mourning at the grave of her father;
and then, before that sorrow had had time to lose its sting, she was
throwing herself in agony over the body of her dead mother, the mother
who had always loved her so tenderly. And death was fearful to her.
The "three souls and seven spirits" had evidently all taken their
departure. Where had they gone? If only she knew, the separation
would not be so hard. But there was no one to solve the mystery for
her; no ray of light to dispel the darkness and fear that crept over
her; no hope of a reunion; no Resurrection Morning to look forward to,
and therefore no comfort to lighten her sorrow.
But greater trials were yet in store. The brothers did not work quite
so well together after old Mr. Hsü's death, and decided to divide their
fields between them, which they did equally and peacefully, and each
one set up for himself. Everlasting Pearl and her husband worked
harder than ever, as now all the profit they made would be their own.
The harvest promised to be a good one. In the beginning of the sixth
moon, after the early crops of rice had been cut, they ate their new
rice on the day appointed by the Mandarin. Before touching any of the
food they took it to the temple near by, and earnestly invoked the
blessing of the gods on the new grain, after which they sat down to
partake of it without any fear of sickness or trouble coming to them
that year.
But alas! Only a few days later the husband was taken ill, and day by
day became worse. The wife was naturally anxious, and when his illness
deprived him of his reason, her cup of sorrow seemed full. For three
years he was raving mad, and often, when in one of his fits of rage, he
would ill-treat his wife. These fits might come on without any
warning, day or night, so that she was kept in constant fear.
These were dark days indeed for the young wife. Not only had she to
nurse her husband, but she was obliged to do a great deal of his work
in the fields, although it required a man's strength. Bravely she
plodded on, but often lost heart and gave herself up to her sorrow. If
only her parents or her father-in-law had been alive, they would have
comforted her. If only she were not so alone in the world. If only
she had had a child of her own to love and to work for, she could have
borne it better. Many a time she would repeat the sad cry of the
childless wife:
No son, no daughter to call my own,
Thus daily my pitiful lot I bemoan!
How hard it was to be all alone, without a refuge to turn to, without
some one to share her sorrow. How her heart longed for comfort, but
there was none to give it. How she needed a friend to stand by her,
but none was found. Alas! no one had told her of "the Friend that
sticketh closer than a brother." She was so weary and burdened, but no
one had ever whispered in her ear the sweet and tender invitation of
the great Rest-Giver: "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest." No one around her knew of that
blessed invitation, for the messengers to whom it had been entrusted
had been sleeping and taking their rest, neglecting their Lord's
command, and forgetting that "the King's business requireth haste."