"In a morning the spring is finished, the crimson colors are old—"
"Yes, they do," admitted Herrick; "we are foolish to take our little plans so seriously. It would be better if we were enjoying to-day instead of weeping over to-morrow. I have been weak, fickle, changeable, Nancy, and I have tried to blame you, tried to put the burden upon you. Here I have even been so irresolute as to hand over my will for you to direct. That was a thing no father should ask of his daughter. After all, what does it matter how much trust we put into our paltry schemes, what is the use of vexing ourselves, when the stars, whether we like it or not, decide our lives for us? You were right: autumn leaves do fall. I shan't remember you in them. I shall remember you in the stars, which give you your heart's quietness because you obey them. They don't change and grow old, they and the sun and the moon—"
"And the sun and the moon," echoed Nancy.
Then the world went black before her eyes.
CHAPTER XXVI
The seventh moon waxed and waned in a succession of trivial days. The interest of the summer, so far as Nancy was concerned, had ended with her triple battle waged against Ronald and the twins and her father. Chatter with Kuei-lien, perfunctory excursions with a wary eye lest she blunder into Ronald, whom she did not trust herself to meet again, filled in the tale of days. There was but one high moment, the Feast of Souls, when she and Edward secretly sacrificed to the spirit-tablet of their mother. Theirs was a fervid little cult which had grown up unmentioned except between themselves, a worship of the alien mother whom only Nancy dimly remembered. It signalized the bond which had always kept them from feeling quite kin to the rest of their father's family, an aloofness of origin which centred naturally round the legend of their mother.
Guided by reticence quite unusual to the communal life of the household, they had never been willing to drag their secret into the open gossip of the courtyards, but kept up this worship as an act and a habit too sacred to be divulged, too far apart from the noisy ostentation of the sacrifices which the women from time to time offered. Their shrine was holy ground, and when they made their sober childish prayers before the gilded tablet, the boy and girl, so shyly, fondly devoted to each other, seemed orphans indeed, shut out from the world around them by their still tenser devotion to the mother who was little more than a memory and a shadow.
Their worship this year was also, on Nancy's part, a farewell. She was saying good-bye to the spirit of her mother, whom she would not be entitled to worship next summer when the festival of All Souls once more quickened love and regret for the dead. For she must give up her own forefathers, give up even her mother, when she went out from home to the strange halls of her husband. Thenceforth his ancestors would be hers, and in place of the dearly loved tablet which she and Edward had fashioned so loyally between themselves, she must bow her head before a row of cold names which were not even dead to her because they never had been alive.
With grave seriousness she bequeathed the trust to Edward, envying him his right to worship his mother undisturbed until the end of his days. So passed the Feast of Souls, and one by one the days of the ghostly seventh moon slipped away.