Hills of Han 28

Hills of Han 28

Deane, watching him, felt now that his own task was to forget self

utterly. It was beginning, even, to seem the pleasantly selfish

course. The trip down to Hung Chan he welcomed. He would drive himself

mercilessly; it would be an escaping from his thoughts. Moments had

come, during the walk from So T’ung, when for the first time in his life

he understood suicide. So many men fell back on it during the tragic

disillusionments of middle life. The trouble with suicide, of course,

this sort, was the element of cowardice. He wasn’t beaten. Not yet. At

least, he had strength left, and physical courage. No, action was the

thing. It was the sort of contribution he was best fitted to give these

helpless, frightened people here. As to Betty, he would give to the

limits of his great strength.

 

And so he answered Boatwright with a manner of calm confidence.

 

“Kang is putting up a fight, of course, but Pao will prove too strong

for him. At least, there’s no good in believing anything else, Elmer.

It’s the position we’ve got to take. I’ll get into my walking clothes

again.”

 

“You’re not going to Hung Chan alone, to-night?”

 

“Yes. It’s the quickest way.”

 

“Don’t you need sleep--a few hours, at least?”

 

“No, I was too late at So T’ung.”

 

“That was not your fault.”

 

“No. Still... I’ll go right along.” Doane got up.

 

“If you could give me a few minutes more there’s another matter. I’m

afraid you’ll regard it as rather important. It’s--difficult....” And

then, instead of continuing, he fell to rolling the pencil, and gazing

at it. His color rose a little.

 

There was a light knock at the door. Neither man responded. After a

moment the door opened a little way, and Mrs. Boatwright looked in.

 

“Oh!...” she exclaimed, then: “How do you do, Mr. Doane!... Elmer, have

you spoken of that matter?”

 

“I was just beginning to, my dear.”

 

Mrs. Boatwright, after a silence, came in and closed the door softly

behind her.

 

“Mr. Doane hasn’t much time.” Boatwright’s voice was low, tremulous.

“Matters at So Thing are as bad as they could be. And he is going down

to Hung Chan now.”

 

“To-night?” asked the wife, rather sharply.

 

Doane inclined his head.

 

“Then what are we to do?”

 

“Mr Doane,” put in the husband, “has given instructions that we are to

stay here.”

 

“Oh--instructions?”

 

“Yes,” said Doane gravely. And he courteously explained: “The situation

is developing too rapidly for us to get all the others in to T’ainan.

And we can’t desert them. Not yet. You will certainly be safer here than

you would be on the road. Hung Chan is only eighteen miles. I shall be

back within twenty-four hours, probably to-morrow evening. Then we will

hold a conference and decide finally on a course. We may be reduced

to demanding an escort to Ping Yang, telegraphing the others to save

themselves as best they can.”

 

Mrs. Boatwright soberly considered the problem.

 

“It looks like nineteen hundred all over again,” Boatwright muttered

huskily, without looking up.

 

“No,” said Doane, “it won’t be the same. The only thing we positively

know is that history never repeats itself. We’ll take it as it comes.”

He didn’t see Mrs. Boatwright’s sharp eyes taking him in as he said

this. “I’ll leave you now.”

 

“Just this other matter,” said the wife, more briskly. “I won’t keep

you long. But I don’t feel free to handle the situation in my own way,

and--well, something must be done.”

 

“You see,” said the husband, “there’s a man here--a queer American--he

turned up--”

 

“Elmer!” the wife interrupted, “if you will let me.... It is a man your

daughter met on the ship coming out, Mr. Doane. Evidently a case of

infatuation....”

 

“He is a journalist--has written works on British administration in

India, I believe--”

 

“Elmer! Please! The fact is, the man has deliberately followed Betty out

here. There is some understanding between them--something that should

be got at. The man is married. Betty admits that--she seems to be

intimately in his confidence. He came rushing out here without so much

as a passport. Elmer has had to give up a good deal of time to setting

him right at Pao’s yamen. I very properly refused to accept him here

as a guest, whereupon Hetty got word to him secretly and they have been

meeting--”

 

“Out in the tennis court!”

 

“Last night I found them there myself. I sent him away, and brought

Betty in.”

 

“Tell it all, dear!”

 

“I will. Mr. Doane must know the facts. The man was kissing her. He

offered no apology. And Betty was defiant. She seemed then to fear the

man would not appear again, but in some way she found him this afternoon

out in the side street. They must have been there together for some

time, walking back and forth, talking earnestly. I had other things to

do, of course. I couldn’t devote all my time to watching her. And it

would seem, if she had any normal sense of... I secured a promise then

from Betty that she would not meet him again until after your return.

The man, however, would promise nothing.”

 

On few occasions in her intensely busy life had Mrs. Boatwright been so

voluble. But she was excited and perhaps a little prurient; for to such

severe self-discipline as hers there are opposite and sometimes equal

reactions.

 

“Something must be done, and at once.” She appeared to be bringing her

speech to a conclusion. “The man impressed me as persistent and quite

shameless. He is unquestionably exerting a dangerous power over the

girl. Even in times like these, I am sure that you, as her father, will

feel that a strong effort must be made to save her. I needn’t speak of

the whispers that are already loose about the compound.”

 

Through all this, Doane, his face wholly __EXPRESSION__less except for a

stunned look about the eyes and perhaps a sad settling about the mouth,

looked quietly from wife to husband and back again. They seemed utter

strangers, these two. With disconcerting abruptness he discovered that

he disliked them both.... Another thought that came was of the scene

of desolation he had left at So T’ung. After that, what mattered,

what little human thing! Then it occurred to his dazed mind that this

wouldn’t do. Suddenly he could see Betty--her charm and grace, her

bright pretty ways, with his inner eye; and again his spirit was tom and

tortured as all during the night, back there in the hills. If only he

could recall the prayers that used to rise so easily and earnestly from

his eager heart!

 

“Where is she now?” he asked, outwardly so calm as to stir resentment in

the woman before him. She replied, acidly:

 

“In her room. If she hasn’t slipped out again.”

 

“She promised, I believe you said.”

 

This was uttered so quietly that a slow moment passed before it reached

home. Then Mrs. Boatwright replied, with less emphasis:

 

“Yes. She promised.”

 

“And where is the man?”

 

“At an inn, somewhere inside the walls. Sun would know.”

 

“What is his name?”

 

Boatwright fumbled among the papers on his desk, and found a card which

he passed over.

 

Doane looked thoughtfully at it, then slipped it into a pocket; said,

quiet, deathly sober, “You may look for me sometime to-morrow night. We

will make our final arrangements then. Meantime you had all better get

what rest you can.” Then he left the room.

 

Husband and wife looked at each other. The man’s lids drooped first. He

began rolling the pencil. Finally he said, listlessly:

 

“Probably it would be wise to sort out these papers--get the letters

and reports straight. If we should go, there wouldn’t be much time for

packing.”

 

4

 

Doane went directly to Betty’s door, and knocked. She came at once, in

her pretty kimono; peeped out at him; cried softly:

 

“Oh, Dad! You’re safe!”

 

“Yes, dear. I have one more trip, a short one. It will be all I can do.

To-morrow night I’ll be back for good. Take care of yourself, little

girl.”

 

“Yes--oh, yes! But I shall worry about you.”

 

“No. Never worry. I’ll be back.”

 

That seemed to be all he could say. She, too, was still. The silence

lengthened, grew into a conscious thing in his mind anti hers. Finally

he took a hesitating backward step.

 

“I must be off, dear.”