|In the grove outside the city wall they paused to rest.
The interpreter, who had come with them from the house and refused to leave them till the city gate was reached, had been paid and was returning to the temple.
As they passed through the streets, they had been conscious of curious whispers, glances from behind opaque windows and rustling from concealed doorways and passages beyond—so a hive of bees despoiled of its comb stirs with low-murmured sound and the restless whir of wings.... But no one had approached them, no one barred passage to the light oblong box that Richard More carried so carefully in his hand.
At the entrance to the grove he glanced at his wife.
“We shall rest here,” he said with quiet decision.
And she acquiesced—a little smile coming to her lips as they entered the grove.
The green light filtered through the boughs. It touched the twisted trunks with a still look of mystery and strangeness.
“How beautiful!” she said under her breath.
He made a place for her to sit down, and as she leaned against the gnarled trunk, looking up to the boughs where the filtering light came through, he was struck again by the pallor of her face.
“You are tired!” he exclaimed. “I shall signal Kou Ying to bring the chairs!” He moved to the entrance of the grove—but she stayed him.
“No—wait! I like it—to be alone with you.... Don’t call Kou Ying—yet!”
She looked about with dreamy eyes. “It is so beautiful here—and quiet—I shall rest,” she said slowly.
Then her eyes fell on the box and she smiled.
“Open it!” she commanded.
And as his fingers undid the cord and lifted the thin rustling papers and drew the coat from its place, she laughed and chatted like a child. And her laughter, sounding through the grove, had something sweet and strange in it.
He lifted the coat and laid it before her. She looked down at it. She put out her hand and stroked the dragons, the laughter still in her eyes.
“For William Archer,” she said.
“And his sons,” responded Richard.
“And his sons’ sons forever,” she finished dreamily.
Her hand still stroked the dragons.
“I did not think you—would get it—for me!” she said.
“Of course I should get it—if you wanted it.... You had only to say you wanted it!”
“You knew that!” he added after a minute.
“Yes, I knew.” A little sigh touched her lips.
They sat a moment in silence. Then he lifted the coat. “Put it on,” he insisted gently.
She lifted her arms to the sleeves and smiled at him as he wrapped it about her.... Suddenly the look of pallor was in her face. It grew strangely quiet, and a touch of wistfulness curved the smile of the lips.
He looked down at her, startled... the pallor in the quiet face seemed passed to his own.
Hastily he laid down the still figure and ran to the entrance of the grove.... At the edge of the path he paused and looked up and motioned—gesticulating swiftly to a single figure on the plateau above.
From his post above Kou Ying started. He leaned forward and lifted his hand in a swift gesture.
He gave a harsh call.
The men behind him leaped to their feet and ran from the trees. There was confusion and hurry and a swift chatter of voices, as they seized the empty sedan chairs and slung them to their shoulders, and moved forward toward the winding path that led from the hill.
From the edge of the hill before he descended Kou Ying looked down again.
The valley below was still. No one moved among the trees.
From the mountain opposite, the quiet face of the Buddha looked across to the plain.