"ONE SOUL"
Mr. Kit-ze continued to gesticulate and to cry out to the magistrate,
although those near-by sought to restrain him. He even tried to pass the
barrier, but was each time pushed back by the guards.
The magistrate at first appeared not to notice him, but after a while,
overcome by his curiosity, he turned his head and called to Mr. Kit-ze:
"What do you want, fellow? I'll put you in the _cangue_[3] if you don't
cease that noise."
"A word!" cried Mr. Kit-ze. "A word with you, O most high and exalted!"
The magistrate eyed him a moment nonchalantly. Then he said to a runner:
"Bring him here."
Mr. Kit-ze approached and, falling upon his heels, prostrated himself
three times before the _yangban_, touching his forehead to the floor
each time.
As he arose, there fluttered from his fingers a strip of yellow ribbon,
and those who were near to him saw stamped upon it in red a dragon with
four wings and tongue extended.
"See!" said Mr. Kit-ze, as he held it before the magistrate. "See! O
renowned son of a renowned father. O most exalted, I claim the promise."
A look of intelligence began to dawn in the magistrate's eye. He looked
closely at the streamer of yellow ribbon. "Go on," he said to Mr.
Kit-ze. "Go on, but keep your head above your shoulders, so as to make
clear what you are trying to say."
"On a blessed day for your poor, miserable servant," began Mr. Kit-ze,
"your exalted person came down the Han in a craft that went to grief in
the rapids. Your polemen, losing their heads, deserted, and but for the
assistance of the unworthy being now speaking to you and his poleman,
there would have been neither craft nor cargo belonging to your exalted
self to enter Seoul. You gave me _yen_, but you gave me this too,"
holding the ribbon nearer as he spoke, "and your most eloquent tongue,
that always speaks straight, declared that if there was ever anything
this miserable wretch desired of you that could be granted, it should be
so."
"I remember," said the magistrate. "Go on."
"I ask you now, O renowned and honorable, to spare the hair of the
daughter of him who is known as the exalted teacher," and here Mr.
Kit-ze turned toward Helen, who, ever since his sudden appearance, had
been regarding him with a questioning if not puzzled wonder. How had he
come there, and where were the others? Had he alone learned of their
whereabouts, and how had it so happened?
"Take instead something of your wretched servant's," continued Mr.
Kit-ze to the magistrate, "and leave undisturbed the beautiful strands
that are a happiness to her whom they adorn and a joy in the eyes of
those who love her."
"Oh, Mr. Kit-ze," said Helen softly, a great, warm flood of feeling
sweeping over her heart as she comprehended what he had asked and noted
the deep earnestness in his eyes as he turned them upon her, "don't mind
about my hair; please don't. It won't be so dreadful to me to lose it.
Don't get yourself into trouble for my sake," and now she laid her hand
upon his shoulder in earnest pleading.
"I'll fear to suffer nothing if done for _you_, O daughter of the
honorable teacher." And now his eyes were misty with feeling as their
gaze lingered upon her.
"Come, is this all you want?" asked the magistrate impatiently and
evidently resenting the conversation now going on between Helen and Mr.
Kit-ze.
"Yes, it is all your wretched servant has to ask of you," replied Mr.
Kit-ze. "O most honorable," he began to plead, "spare, I entreat you,
the beautiful hair of her who is the daughter of the exalted teacher,
and nothing more will I ask of you. Nothing!"
"But the _miriok_, Mr. Kit-ze, the _miriok_?" said Helen in an undertone
and surprised that he had seemed to take no thought of it in his appeal
to the magistrate. For he surely had heard enough of the proceedings to
understand why she and Dorothy had been brought before the _yangban_.
"The _miriok_?" said Mr. Kit-ze softly and looking at her with eyes
whose confidence touched her beyond expression. "He will give you the
_miriok_. He has said it."
Then, as a sudden, strange expression came into his eyes, he glanced up
quickly and straight toward the line of spectators. "There is another,"
he said, his lips moving nervously, "and I must!" He paused; then she
heard him say again, "Oh, I must!"
Helen's heart leaped. Did he mean Mr. Choi-So? Had he seen him among the
spectators? It was more than likely that he had, as the latter stood
near to where Mr. Kit-ze was when he began to gesticulate to the
magistrate.
"I can't see why your request shouldn't be granted," said the magistrate
after a pause, and to Mr. Kit-ze; "especially as you have brought that
at sight of which no gentleman could break his word," and he pointed to
the streamer of yellow ribbon that Mr. Kit-ze still held. "I remember
the service. Now let me hear the request again."
Mr. Kit-ze repeated it with all the eloquence that heart and tongue
could bestow upon it.
"Take the image from the old woman and give it to the young foreigner,"
said the magistrate, "and there will be no cutting of her hair," he
added firmly.
As he uttered the last sentence, he threw his head up and glanced
somewhat defiantly at the screen behind which he knew his wives were
sitting. But the chief lady of his household was inexorable. Another
message came to him, and quickly. She would renounce her desire for all
of Helen's hair, but she must have some of it. A strand would now
suffice her.
"No," said Mr. Kit-ze, "no!" and moved nearer to Helen as though to
protect her. "It must not be!"
"I can spare a strand," said Helen soothingly to Mr. Kit-ze, "without
its ever showing where it has been cut."
Then she turned to Dorothy. "Help me undo the braids quickly, dear, and
get a part of one of them. You will know where to cut. Get a good-sized
piece," she added with a smile. "We must give her her curiosity's
worth."
As the braids were loosened and the strands swept in shining waves over
Helen's shoulders, falling below her waist, there was a chorus of quick
exclamations, followed by prolonged murmurs of astonishment. Only Mr.
Kit-ze groaned.
Urged by Helen, Dorothy severed the portion of hair, which was at once
conveyed to the _yangban's_ chief wife. They could hear the excited
expressions that sounded from behind the screen.
Mr. Kit-ze looked miserable. He stood with folded hands mournfully
regarding Helen. His eyes said plainly, though his lips did not, "I
tried to save it. If only you had let me!"
"Dear Mr. Kit-ze," said Helen, "how I do thank you for----"
But here she stopped, for the runner, who had at length succeeded, with
the assistance of another, in getting the _miriok_ from the old _mutang_
was now offering it to her. He was also demanding for the magistrate the
yen that had been mentioned.
Helen gave them to him, then reached for the _miriok_. But how her hand
trembled! A pang too struck her heart. How different was the feeling to
that with which she had thought she would receive the _miriok_ if only
she could succeed in recovering it! Though it had been stolen from Mr.
Kit-ze, yet her chief thought when pursuing the old _mutang_ had been of
poor Choi-So, and of how frantic he would be should the _miriok_ pass
away from him. Now the _miriok_ had been given back to her. She stood
there with it in her hand. But there too stood Mr. Kit-ze, and she felt,
if she did not see, his burning glance fixed upon the image in her
clasp. How much he had dared for her! For it is considered a serious
matter in Korea to interrupt a magistrate in the midst of his court.
With what earnestness and eloquence had he pleaded for her hair, seeming
to forget even the precious _miriok_ in his desire to save to her that
which he knew was pleasing to herself and a delight to her loved ones.
He had even used his one claim to the favor of the magistrate in her
behalf.
Yes, there stood Mr. Kit-ze with burning eyes regarding her, and there
too, not more than ten paces away, was Choi-So. Only the moment before
she had seen him, standing at almost the same spot and in almost the
same position, his eyes riveted upon her every movement. How singularly
quiet he had been! But it was, she felt, the quiet of concentrated
emotion--emotion that might at any moment break forth.
Oh, what was she to do? A fervent prayer winged its way upward as she
thought quickly, intently. Now of all times she must not make a mistake.
The peace of a soul, maybe in the end the peace of two souls, was at
stake. Suddenly her resolution was formed. She would give the _miriok_
to Mr. Kit-ze, then, when they were released from the court and were
away from all those inquisitive eyes, she would bravely plead with him
to return it to Choi-So. She would see Choi-So too. She would entreat
him to wait and to leave it to her.
"Mr. Kit-ze," she said, speaking slowly and trying to make each
expression plain to him, "I saw the old woman when she robbed you. I
called to Dorothy, for I knew I had not the time to awaken you and the
others, and we chased her. Oh, how anxious we were to get the _miriok_
for--for----"
But she could not tell him yet. Besides, the magistrate was through with
them, and was even now instructing the runners to conduct them away.
As they turned to leave the room, Helen gently pressed the _miriok_ into
Mr. Kit-ze's hands. "Take it," she said; "but later, when we get away
from here, I must tell you something."
His fingers closed about it nervously, and he paused for a moment as
though his emotion at receiving it again had overcome him. Then she
heard him murmur, "Wrong, wrong. I must give it back," and, ere she
could speak to him, he had moved hastily away.
Surprised, Helen, with a word to Dorothy, turned to follow him. After so
bravely coming to the rescue, was he going to abandon them in that
strange place to make their way back to the sampan alone?
"Stop, Mr. Kit-ze, stop!" entreated Helen.
"Oh, do wait for us, Mr. Kit-ze!" pleaded Dorothy.
He paid no heed to them, only kept on; and now Helen, for the first
time, realized whither he was going. It was straight toward Mr. Choi-So.
Her heart almost stopped beating. What would happen? She must follow him
and know. As she reached them, it was to see Mr. Kit-ze holding the
image toward Choi-So, and to hear his tremulously uttered words, "Sorry.
Sorry. It was wrong. She showed me."
Then he raised his head and added another word, but with almost pathetic
entreaty, "Go!"
"No," said Helen quickly, "no," and reached out her hand to detain Mr.
Choi-So, but too late.
With a muffled cry of joy that fell distinctly upon the ears of those
around him, Mr. Choi-So grasped the image, dropped something into Mr.
Kit-ze's hand and, turning, sprang away. He passed swiftly through the
crowd that opened at once to let him by, believing that he was running
in search of his mind, as they expressed it, and to their journey's end
the inmates of the sampan did not see nor hear of him again.
[Illustration: "'SORRY. SORRY. IT WAS WRONG! SHE SHOWED ME.'"]
"Oh, Mr. Kit-ze," said Helen, "I----"
But the sentence was never finished, for a joyous cry from Dorothy
arrested her in the act of speaking the words, and, at the same time,
she felt an arm slipped about her waist and heard a voice deep with
emotion saying, "My daughter, this has been dreadful for you."
It was her father, and there too, was Mallard. How rejoiced they were to
find her and Dorothy safe.
Soon the story of the search for them was told, and then Helen, for the
first time, had light on a subject that even in the midst of far more
engrossing things had caused her much wonder. This was as to how Mr.
Kit-ze had found his way to the court-room without the others.
The old boatman had slept on until sunrise. The other inmates too had
finished their morning naps, had performed their toilets, and were ready
for breakfast ere the disappearance of the two girls was discovered. It
was after repeated calls and numerous sarcastic remarks on Clarence's
part had failed either to bring them forth or to win even a retort from
them, that Mr. Reid had raised the curtain of their sleeping apartment
for an examination. But still their absence had not caused alarm, for
the first thought was that they might be walking on the bank near by.
However, as a search in that direction failed to discover them, a well
defined fear soon spread. In a short time it became evident that they
had either wandered away and become lost or had been abducted.
It was quickly arranged that Mr. Reid, Mr. Kit-ze, and Mallard should
set off in search for them, while Mr. Wilburn, Clarence, and Joyce
remained to take care of the sampan.
In the town they soon heard of the arrest; but as there were two
magistrates, there were, of course, two trails to follow, as no one they
met seemed to know before which one the girls had been carried. In the
eagerness of inquiry, Mr. Kit-ze became separated from Mr. Reid and
Mallard and, while they went on the wrong trail at first, he went on the
right one, arriving almost as soon as the court had begun.
There was a joyful reunion at the sampan. Only Mr. Kit-ze looked sad.
Helen watched for the first opportunity to speak to him when alone and
said: "Oh, Mr. Kit-ze, that was a good, brave thing you did. How glad it
has made me!"
The gloomy look began to leave his face. He turned toward her, a joy
awakening in his eyes. "I did it," he said, "because you told me."
"I?" asked Helen astonished. "Oh, no, Mr. Kit-ze, I never told you."
"Not with lips, but with eyes," declared Mr. Kit-ze. "Oh, when you
looked at me so, I knew I must. I felt it here," laying his hand with a
pathetic movement on his heart. "And when you talked to me, daughter of
the most honorable teacher, oh, it was like light coming, coming, that
is almost here."
"But how did you know that I knew about the _miriok_?" she asked, now
more astonished than ever.
"I heard him. The day on the bluff. Oh, how frightened poor Kit-ze, and
wretched, wretched!"
So he had heard Choi-So tell the story, and though he had hotly
protested against his accompanying them as poleman, all the time
vigorously declaring to himself that he would never give up the
_miriok_, yet the seeds of better things had taken root in his heart,
were even then beginning to push their tender shoots upward. And how
Helen's deep interest, her kindness to him, her evident concern, above
all, the sweet, earnest words she had spoken--how these had brought just
the nourishment to make the seed grow! The hand that no harsh force of
compulsion could ever have made give up the idol to which it clung had
brought it tremblingly to the feet of love, won by its all-conquering
power.
They turned back from the old temple above Yo-Ju after thoroughly
exploring it. They also spent a day in Yo-Ju, where Mr. Kit-ze
fortunately found a poleman whom he knew and in whom he had confidence.
They stopped at Mr. Ko's long enough to pick up Mr. Chefoo, whom they
found well on the road to recovery, and to leave with their old friend
some remembrances brought from Yo-Ju.
What a joy it was to Helen, on the homeward journey, to watch Mr. Kit-ze
coming more and more into the light.
It was one afternoon, just as they were passing along beneath the
beautifully verdured bluffs that indicate the nearness of the mountain
range which encircles Seoul, that Dorothy, slipping her arm with warm
pressure about Helen's waist, laid a book across Helen's knee with a
passage marked.
After a moment, Helen looked up, her eyes suffused with tears, for this
is what she had read:
Perchance in heaven, some day, to me
Some blessed saint will come and say:
"All hail, beloved, but for thee
My soul to death had fallen a prey";
Then oh, what rapture in the thought
One soul to glory to have brought.
[Illustration]
The End
FOOTNOTES:
[3] A wooden collar worn by Korean offenders against the law.
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