"What do you say?"
Ah Ching came nearer. He held up one hand and counted his words off on
his fingers slowly. "Missee-sabe-master-have-got-one mother?" he
inquired patiently.
"Yes, yes!"
"Well, he just now have come. He downstairs!"
I got to my feet. I was more frightened and nervous than I had ever
been. I remembered to be grateful. I was wearing complete Chinese
dress--a black skirt and blue velvet jacket. This fact assumed an
amusing importance in my mind as I stood there, struggling to get myself
in hand. I had planned this meeting a thousand times, and now that it
was fairly upon me I was totally without resource. I progressed
downstairs confusedly, running a few swift steps and then stopping short
and beginning again slowly. If Chan-King had been there, I should have
fled to him and left the entire situation in his hands; but I was alone
and certain of one thing only--I meant to win the love of my Chinese
mother if I could. Subjectively, all the tales I had heard of Chinese
mothers-in-law must have impressed me more than I had admitted, for I
remembered something Chan-King had told me long before: "I cannot
describe to you the importance of the mother in the Chinese household.
She is a complete autocrat, with almost final authority over her sons,
daughters-in-law, servants, relatives, everybody except her husband, who
is usually absent on his business. Her old age is a complete reversal of
the restraint and discipline of her youth."
I stopped short at the door of the drawing-room. I saw my husband's
mother for the first time. She had become to me a personality of almost
legendary grandeur, and I felt a little wave of surprise go over me that
she looked somehow so real and alive and genuine. She sat in a big,
tall-backed chair, her hands spread flat on her knees. Her face was the
face of the young mother in the photograph Chan-King had shown me, only
grown older and a trifle more severe. She was dressed in black brocade,
its stiff folds and precise creases accentuating her dignity. Under the
edges of her skirt glimmered her tiny grey shoes, embroidered in red and
green. At her side stood the male relative who had accompanied her--a
Chinese gentleman of the old school, in a long gown of dark silk. Behind
her chair stood a maid and two menservants.
I knew that she spoke no English, and as yet I had no knowledge of her
southern dialect. There was a sharp pause in the dead-silent room while
we regarded each other.