“Don’t mention her name,” said the old man, angrily. “You are not worthy to speak of her. She is dying in prison, because of her loyal devotion to the brute beast who married and deserted her.”
Ye Toh Ryung could hear no more. He hurried from the place, and finding his attendants, announced his intention of going at once into the city, lest the officials should hear of his presence and prepare for him. Entering the city, he went direct to Chun Yang Ye’s house. It presented little of the former pleasant appearance. Most of the rich furniture had been sold to buy comforts for the imprisoned girl. The mother, seeing him come, and supposing him to be a beggar, almost shrieked at him to get away. “Are you such a stranger, that you don’t know the news? My only child is imprisoned, my husband long since dead, my property almost gone, and you come to me for alms. Begone, and learn the news of the town.”
“Look! Don’t you know me? I am Ye Toh Ryung, your son-in-law,” he said.
“Ye Toh Ryung, and a beggar! Oh, it cannot be. Our only hope is in you, and now you are worse than helpless. My poor girl will die.”
“What is the matter with her?” said he, pretending.
The woman related the history of the past months in full, not sparing the man in the least, giving him such a rating as only a woman can. He then asked to be taken to the prison, and she accompanied him with a strange feeling of gratification in her heart that after all she was right, and her daughter’s confidence was ill-placed. Arriving at the prison, the mother expressed her feelings by calling to her daughter: “Here is your wonderful husband. You have been so anxious to simply see Ye Toh Ryung before you die; here he is; look at the beggar, and see what your devotion amounts to! Curse him and send him away.”
The Ussa called to her, and she recognized the voice. “I surely must be dreaming again,” she said, as she tried to arise; but she had the huge neck-encircling board upon her shoulders that marked the latest of her tormentor’s acts of oppression, and could not get up. Stung by the pain and the calmness of her lover’s voice, she sarcastically asked: “Why have you not come to me? Have you been so busy in official life? Have the rivers been so deep and rapid that you dared not cross them? Did you go so far away that it has required all this time to retrace your steps?” And then, regretting her harsh words, she said: “I cannot tell my rapture. I had expected to have to go to Heaven to meet you, and now you are here. Get them to unbind my feet, and remove this yoke from my neck, that I may come to you.”
He came to the little window through which food is passed, and looked upon her. As she saw his face and garb, she moaned: “Oh, what have we done to be so afflicted? You cannot help me now; we must die. Heaven has deserted us.”
“Yes,” he answered; “granting I am poor, yet should we not be happy in our reunion. I have come as I promised, and we will yet be happy. Do yourself no injury, but trust to me.”
She called her mother, who sneeringly inquired of what service she could be, now that the longed-for husband had returned in answer to her prayers. She paid no attention to these cruel words, but told her mother of certain jewels she had concealed in a case in her room. “Sell these,” she said, “and buy some food and raiment for my husband; take him home and care for him well. Have him sleep on my couch, and do not reproach him for what he cannot help.”