that time, spoken one word to his betrothed wife. Occasionally she had passed him on the street; but always he had gone by with uplifted countenance, and in his eyes the beauty of piety and peace. At least, so it seemed to the girl, and the thought of marriage with him had seemed almost sacrilegious. But now it had come to this. If Fou Wang adhered to his resolve to mourn three years for his mother, what would become of her? She thought of old Moy Ding Fong and shuddered. It was bitter, bitter.
There was a rapping at the door. A young girl lifted the latch and stepped in. It was Fin Fan, the sister of her betrothed.
"I have brought my embroidery work," said she, "I thought we could have a little talk before sundown when I must away to prepare the evening meal."
O'Yam, who was glad to see her visitor, brewed some fresh tea and settled down for an exchange of confidences.
"I am not going to abide by it," said Fin Fan at last. "Horn Hing is obliged to return to China two weeks hence, and with or without Fou Wang's consent I go with the man to whom my mother betrothed me."
"Without Fou Wang's consent!" echoed O'Yam.
