KAI LUNG'S GOLDEN HOURS
ear a long-drawn cry and the sounds of many shutters being flung open and the tread of hurrying feet. The moments hung about him like the wings of a dragon-dream, but a prudent restraint chained him to the inner chamber.
It was fully light when Tsae-che returned, accompanied by one whom she dismissed before she entered. "Felicity," she exclaimed, placing before Yan a heavy bag of silver. "Your word has been accomplished."
"It is sufficient," replied Yan in a tone from which every tender modulation was absent, as he laid the silver by the side of the parchment which he had drawn up. "For what reason is the outer door now barred and they who drink tea with us prevented from entering to wish Yuen Yan prosperity?"
"Strange are my lord's words, and the touch of his breath is cold to his menial one," said the woman in doubting reproach.
"It will scarcely warm even the roots of Heng-cho's fig-trees," replied Yuen Yan with unveiled contempt. "Stretch across your hand."
In trembling wonder Tsae-che laid her hand upon the ebony table which stood between them and slowly advanced it until Yan seized it and held it firmly in his own. For a moment he held it, compelling the woman to gaze with a soul-crushing dread into his face, then his features relaxed somewhat from the effort by which he had controlled them, and at the sight Tsae-che tore away her hand and with a scream which caused those who stood outside to forget the memory of every other cry they had ever heard, she cast herself from the house and was seen in the city no more.
These are the pages of the forgotten incident in the
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