Hills of Han 16

Hills of Han 16

Doane inclined his head.

 

“If things are as bad as this, how about our safety here?”

 

“You will be protected. Both Pao and Chang will see to that. And in case

of serious danger--something unforeseen, you must demand an escort to

Ping Yang. You will be safe there with Monsieur Pourmont.”

 

“How about your own safety?”

 

“I have put the responsibility squarely on Pao’s shoulders. He knows

what I am going to do. He is sending soldiers after me. He will

undoubtedly telegraph ahead; he’ll have to do that.”

 

4

 

Betty was in his study, standing by the window. She turned quickly when

he came in. He closed the door, and affecting a casual manner passed her

with a smile and went into the bedroom for the light bag with a shoulder

strap, the blanket roll and the ingenious light folding cot that he

always carried on these expeditions if there was likelihood of his

being caught overnight at native inns. He put on his walking boots and

leggings, picked up his thin raincoat and the heavy stick that was his

only weapon, and returned to the study.

 

He felt Betty’s eyes on him, and tried to speak in an offhand manner.

 

“I’m off to So T’ung, Betty. Be back within two or three days.”

 

She came over, slowly, hesitating, and lingered the blanket roll.

 

“Will there he danger at So T’ung, Dad?” she asked gently.

 

“Very little, I think.”

 

He saw that neither his words nor his manner answered the questions in

her hind. Patting her shoulder, he added:

 

“Kiss me good-by, child. You’ve been listening to the chatter of the

compound. The worst place for gossip in the world.”

 

But she laid a light finger on the court-plaster that covered a cut on

his cheek-bone.

 

“You never said a word about that, Dad. It was the riot at the fair. I

know. You had to fight with them. And Li Hsien killed himself.”

 

“But His Excellency put down the trouble at once. That is over.”

 

She sank slowly into the swivel chair before the desk; dropped her cheek

on her hand; said, in a low uneven voice:

 

“No one talks to me... tells me...”

 

He looked down at her, standing motionless. His eyes filled. Then,

deliberately, he put his park aside, and seated himself at the other

side of the desk.

 

She looked up, with a wistful smile.

 

“I’m not afraid, Dad.”

 

“You wouldn’t be,” said he gravely.

 

“No. But there is trouble, of course.”

 

“Yes. There is trouble.”

 

“Do you think it will be as--as bad as--nineteen hundred?”

 

“No... no, I’m sure it won’t. The officials simply can’t afford to let

that awful thing happen again.”

 

“It would be... well, discouraging,” said she thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t

it? To have all your work undone again.”

 

He found himself startled by her impersonal manner. He saw her, abruptly

then, as a mature being. He didn’t know how to talk to her. This

thoughtful young woman was, curiously, a stranger.... And this was the

first moment in which it had occurred to him that she might already have

had beginning adult experience. She was an individual; had a life of

her own to manage. There would have been men. She was old enough to have

thought about marriage, even. It seemed incredible.... He sighed.

 

“You’re worried about me,” she said.

 

“I shouldn’t have brought you out here, dear.”

 

“I don’t fit in.”

 

“It is a great change for you.”

 

“I... I’m no good.”

 

“Betty, dear--that is not true. I can’t let you say that, or think it.”

 

“But it’s the truth. I’m no good. I’ve tried. I have, Dad. You know, to

put everything behind me and make myself take hold.... And then I draw

half the night, and miss my classes in the morning. It seems to go

against my nature, some way. No matter how hard I try, it doesn’t work.

The worst of it is, in my heart I know it isn’t going to work.”

 

“I shouldn’t have brought you out here.”

 

“But you couldn’t help that, Dad.”

 

“It did seem so.... I’m planning now to send you back as soon as we can

manage it.”

 

“But, Dad... the expense...!”

 

“I know. I am thinking about that. There will surely be a way to manage

it, a little later. I mean to find a way.”

 

“But I can’t go back to Uncle Frank’s.”

 

“I must work it out so that it won’t be a burden to him.”

 

“You mean... pay board?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But think, Dad! I’ve cost you so much already!”

 

“I am glad you have, dear. I think I’ve needed that. And I want you to

go back to the Art League. You have a real talent. We must make the most

of it.” Betty’s gaze strayed out the window. Her father was a dear man.

She hadn’t dreamed he could see into her problems like this. She was

afraid she might cry, so she spoke quickly.

 

“But that means making me still more a burden!”

 

“It is the sort of burden 1 would love, Betty. But don’t misunderstand

me--I can’t do all this now.”

 

“Oh, I know!”

 

“You may have to be patient for a time. Tell me, dear, first though...

is it what you want most?”

 

“Oh... why...”

 

“Answer me if you can. If you know what you want most.”

 

“I wonder if I do know. It’s when I try to think that out clearly that

it seems to me I’m no good.”

 

“I recognize, of course, that you are reaching the age when many girls

think of marrying.”

 

“I... oh...”

 

“I don’t want to intrude into your intimate thoughts, dear. But in so

far as we can plan together... it may help if...”

 

She spoke with a touch of reserve that might have been, probably was,

shyness.

 

“There have been men, of course, who---well, wanted to marry me. This

last year. There was one in New York. He used to come out and take me

riding in his automobile. I--I always made some of the other girls come

with us.”

 

Doane found it impossible to visualize this picture. When he was last

in the States there were no automobiles on the streets. It suggested

a condition of which he knew literally nothing, a wholly new set of

influences in the life of young people. The thought was alarming; he had

to close his eyes on it for a moment. Much as his daughter had seemed

like a visitor from another planet, she had never seemed so far off

as now. And he fell to thinking, along with this new picture, of the

terribly hard struggle they had had out here, since 1900, in rebuilding

the mission organization, in training new workers and creating a new

morale. He felt tired.... His brain was tired. It would help to get out

on the road again, swinging gradually into the rhythm of his forty-inch

stride. Once more he would walk himself off, even as he hastened on an

errand of rescue.

 

Betty was speaking again.

 

“And there’s one now. He’s in Korea, a mining engineer. He’s awfully

nice. But I--I don’t think I could marry him.”

 

“Do you love him, Betty?”

 

“N--no. No, I don’t. Though I’ve wondered, sometimes, about these

things....” The person she was wondering about, as she said this, was

Jonathan Brachey. Suddenly, with her mind’s eye, she saw this clearly.

And it was startling. She couldn’t so much as mention his name;

certainly not to her father, kind and human as he seemed. But she would

never hear from him again; not now. If he could live through those first

few weeks without so much as writing, he could let the years go.

That would have been the test for her sort of nature, and she could

understand no other sort.