The Girl Next Door

by Augusta Huiell Seaman

"She was a wonderfully beautiful girl," he continued, "with a color like English roses in her cheeks. The Chinese called her 'Flower-maiden,' or 'Hor-lú.' She had but recently come to the mission from her home in England. Well, it was a case of love at first sight on both sides! And before many more months Ferris announced to me that he was going back into the position at the tea-house and there earn enough money to be able to marry her. But he also told me that Miss Marlowe, while very much in love with him, was still very devoted to her work there and very earnest about the cause for which she had left her home and come so far to serve. She insisted that, if they married, she must still be allowed to continue in the missionary work. To this he was perfectly willing to assent.

"So they were married in the English mission at Amoy, and on the wedding-day he gave her this pair of bracelets which he had had made after his own design. They were not an expensive gift, but he was poor, in worldly goods, and it was the best he could afford. After the honeymoon they built a little home on the island of Ko-longsu, right near the city of Amoy. He went on with his work in the tea-house, and she with her teaching in the mission-school on the island.

"It seemed an ideal arrangement, and they were ideally happy for a number of years. He never advanced very far in the tea-house, for he loved his music too well and he had no head for business. But he made enough to keep them comfortably, and more they did not want.

"Then about 1898, I think, came a change. To their great joy a little daughter was born to them. She was a beautiful baby, and for over a year there was no happier home in all China. But one day, when the baby was about a year and a half old, Ferris came to me and told me he was in trouble and wanted my advice.

"He began by telling me that the baby seemed to be drooping and that he himself was not feeling quite up to the mark. I looked them both over and found he was right. The climate was too much for them. It is for many foreigners sooner or later. I told him they ought to go home for a year or so and recuperate. He said he couldn't—didn't have any home to go to, in fact. Had long ago quarreled violently with his people, and would never go back to them. Moreover, he had his wife and baby to consider. He couldn't afford to give up and lose his position. If he did, what were they to do?

"I suggested that they go to his wife's people in England. He said there was difficulty in that direction, too. She had only a married brother and his wife, and they had not approved of her giving up all her prospects to come to China as a missionary. They heard from them only at long intervals, though recently, to be sure, they had offered to take care of the little girl if the time came that she needed change of air.

"Ferris told me that he and his wife naturally could not bear to consider such a thing, but on the other hand, the baby's welfare must be their first consideration. What should I advise them to do?

"I considered the matter carefully, and at last told him he'd better accept the offer to care for the baby for a year or so. She, at least, would be provided for, and he and his wife could then take their chances without imperiling her future. To follow this advice nearly broke their hearts, but the next missionaries who went back to England on furlough took the baby with them, and gave her into the care of the brother and his wife. It is needless to say that Cecily Ferris is the same whom we know as Cecily Marlowe. I would recognize her anywhere, for she is the image of her mother." And he looked toward the girl sitting in the dim light, held by the wonder of his story. The silence that ensued was broken first by her.

"Tell me, if you please," she half whispered, "did my father ever—ever play to me on his violin? Do you know what he played?"

"Why, I'm sure he did," smiled Dr. Atwater. "I used to stop at his house early in the evening sometimes, and I generally found him fiddling away by the side of your cradle. Mostly it was an air he called 'Träumerei,' or something like that. I'm not very good at remembering musical names."