While taking a stroll in the garden, Marie informed me that during my absence she had been much annoyed by the importunate attentions of a young chief, the son of the Tsan-wang, one of the principal members of the Ti-ping Government. In fact, to so unpleasant an extent had his sudden passion carried him that, upon two occasions, his emissaries had attempted her abduction, the last attempt having taken place only a few evenings before my return, and while she was walking in the palace grounds alone. The young chief I knew by reputation as a wild and unscrupulous character, but his father was a most influential personage; therefore, though I might readily have avoided further trouble by representing the affair to the authorities, I decided to take Marie with me and join the Chung-wang at Hang-chow, rather than excite any bad feeling by making a public case when it could be avoided. Ti-ping justice was remarkably prompt and severe, and conviction of the chief would very likely have led to decapitation. Before putting my plan into execution, it was necessary to await the arrival of L. with our lorcha.
In the evening I found Phillip with his wife waiting to see me in the old rooms at the back of the Chung-wang's palace. I had ample occasion to congratulate him upon his choice, for the lady was by no means wanting in personal beauty. She was a really fine girl, taller than the generality of Chinese women, with very pretty and regular features, light-complexioned and rosy-cheeked, and was quite black-eyed and long-haired enough to please the greatest brunette admirer; besides which she was fortunate enough to possess nice little feet, not deformed according to Imperialist Chinese taste. How Phillip met her, and how she became his wife, took place, as he informed me, in the following way:—
A week or two after my departure from Nankin, intelligence was received of the capture of the city of Ngan-kin by the Imperialists, and the defeat of the Ying-wang, who had been prevented effecting its relief through the delay caused by his communication with the British expedition up the Yang-tze. Reinforcements having been ordered from Nankin to the north bank of the river, so as to co-operate in the Ying-wang's retreat, Phillip accompanied them, taking charge of the few pieces of artillery they carried.
One day, while with the foremost of the advanced guard, he became engaged in an attack upon a fortified hamlet, which was obstinately defended by some Manchoo troops, who were assisted by the inhabitants. In such cases, of course, the Ti-pings treat the villagers as enemies, making prisoners of those who escape the battle, and seizing their effects.
While driving the Imperialists out of the palace, Phillip received a slight though painful spear-wound in one of his hands, and, upon entering a house to obtain some water, he saw his future wife for the first time. The house was, apparently, one of the poorest in the village, and the young woman, with her aged father and a little servant-girl, constituted its only occupants. They were naturally much alarmed by the conflict raging about them, and while the timid daughter supplied him with a draught of water, her father threw himself at his knees, ketowing and imploring protection.
Phillip was considerably impressed by the charms of the celestial damsel, and with his brave though tender heart sincerely pitied her unprotected state, so he waited until the arrival of the main body of the forces; and then, after obtaining from the chief in command a protection chop, or paper, to affix to the door of the house, and thereby make it inviolate, he continued on the march, leaving father and daughter showering Chinese blessings upon his foreign head.
My friend had not proceeded very far when he reflected that a great proportion of the rear guard (which in this case was a position of no moment) was composed of quite new levies, many of whom had been Imperialist braves, and had only lately been enlisted as Ti-pings, and who, probably, still retained the old propensities to excess and plunder strong within them. Thinking thus, and, I dare say, with a lively remembrance of the daughter's pretty face—her equal not being seen every day in China—he determined to ride back and protect the old man's house, if necessary, till the last of the force had passed through the village. During his return he had met a number of the recruits as prisoners for looting houses and robbing country people, the punishment for which would almost certainly be decapitation, and upon reaching the place he found many were plundering and destroying all they could lay hands on.
Phillip had scarcely noticed this when the little girl he had seen at the house came running up to him, screaming and holding out her hands, and with the blood pouring from a large gash across her cheek.
Fearing the worst, and blaming himself for not having made greater haste, he left one of his men to attend to the poor child, and galloped up to the house with the rest.
The building was beginning to smoke where some of the marauders had just applied the torch, while, right across the threshold of his once happy home, the apparently lifeless body of the old man lay before my friend. Hearing the noise of voices inside the house, Phillip expecting at each step to come across the daughter's corpse, drew his revolver and entered. He arrived not a moment too soon, for, upon reaching the inner chamber, he found the poor girl struggling in the hands of several soldiers. The next instant and his pistol had effectually released her, when she rushed fainting and dishevelled to his arms. Carrying her to the outer apartment, he laid her on a couch, and then turned his attention to the father. The latter still lived, but death was evidently fast approaching as his life ebbed away from several ghastly wounds inflicted by the heavy knives of the ruthless murderers.