“He will be brought up here in this house. He will learn to love beautiful things. We will teach him together.”

“What if it should be a girl?”

“I do not think sex is a barrier. If the baby should be a girl she shall have all the advantages that a boy would have had.”

I was touched that he should want to help plan the nursery. We had turned a room next to mine into this. I had it papered in pale blue with a frieze of animals as a kind of dado, and the entire household was excited when the white wood cot arrived with its blue coverlet.

I used to go into the room and look at it with wonder. The others did too. We were constantly finding someone there, as though in silent worship of the infant who soon was to make its longed-for arrival.

We talked of it constantly. Sylvester and I grew closer to each other, I tried to thank him for his goodness to my mother and me, but he only shook his head and said he had derived nothing but comfort and pleasure from our coming to his house.

I was fond of him. I had always respected him. I used to try to tell myself that I had been fortunate. And then memories of Joliffe would come to me and I would be transported to the house in Kensington and I thought of Joliffe and myself together there—then life seemed hard to bear until my longing for my baby overcame all other emotions.

Sylvester insisted on my seeing a London gynecologist and Mrs. Couch traveled up to London with me. I was deeply touched by his joy when the report came that all was normal. However he insisted on the midwife’s staying at the house for more than a week before she was needed.

And in due course my child was born. To my great joy he was perfect in every way. I called him Jason after my father.


* * *

He dominated the household—a lively little boy with the lustiest pair of lungs imaginable.

Sometimes I used to think he would be horribly spoiled for there was not a member of that household who did not dote on him.

Mrs. Couch wanted to make special dishes for him, and I had to watch that she didn’t overfeed him. Amy and she quarreled over this, Amy for once standing out against the formidable cook.

“Poor mite,” cried Mrs. Couch. “Some people would like to starve him. But I’m not having that.”

“Babies’ digestions are not like ours,” Amy declared pontifically.

And they were off.

“Just because you’ve had a baby…”

“Which is more than you have.”

“The impertinence! You take care. Madam Amy.”

I had difficulty in making the peace.

Even Jeffers who had hitherto rarely expressed his appreciation of any but young women, put his head on one side and said, “Didums.”

Of course my son was the most intelligent baby that ever had been born. When he had his first tooth Mrs. Couch wanted to make a cake to celebrate the occasion; when he gurgled something that sounded like “Brrh” we all declared he had said “Mama.” “Chattering away he was,” said Mrs. Couch and I must confess we thought it only the slightest exaggeration. I used to take him into the sitting room when we had tea and display him in all his glory to Sylvester’s admiring gaze.

On his first birthday we had a party in the servants’ hall. A cake with one candle. His bright eyes regarded the cake with appreciation and a chubby hand had to be restrained from seizing the flame.

“Well, I never did,” said Mrs. Couch. “He knows what it’s all about, don’t you. Master Sly Boots.”

Amy’s little daughter who was present picked a piece of icing from the cake when she thought no one was looking and was pounced on by Mrs. Couch which meant further trouble with Amy.

Jess rocked Jason in her arms with a faraway look in her eyes which meant she was thinking that having a good time here and there was all very well but it was babies that counted.

And when I carried him up to his nursery and bathed him, for I would not have a nurse to look after my baby, and laid him in his blue-and-white cot I gave way to my favorite daydream which was that Joliffe stood beside me as we looked down on our son. I felt that bitter loneliness then, that longing which was sometimes so great that I felt that nothing—not even Jason—could quite make up for the loss of Joliffe.


* * *

When the baby was asleep and I was in my lonely bed I used to go over every minute of that honeymoon with Joliffe.

I used to say to myself then that if I had never experienced love and passion I should not have known what I had missed. Yet without them how could I have had my precious Jason.

The child had become my whole life. He brought me comfort; he filled the emptiness I must feel without Joliffe, though even he could not do this completely.

I wanted Joliffe. I could not disguise the fact. And I was growing more and more aware of the barrenness of my life.

I thought of the years ahead, those years which Sylvester had so carefully planned for Jason—they would be sterile years, because to make life secure for Jason I had married a man of whom I was fond in the way in which one could be fond of a respected teacher. But I was young; I had known deep passion; I had loved. I had to be truthful with myself—I still loved—a man who was another woman’s husband.

When I look back I think of Sylvester’s great understanding and humility. He was, I know, far more considerate of my feelings than I was of his.

He understood that I loved Joliffe and that Joliffe had betrayed me—although perhaps he was not to blame for this. Yet I was sure Sylvester believed he was. Sylvester thought Joliffe irresponsible; he had not wanted me to marry him because he had thought he would not make a suitable husband. He had known Joliffe from his boyhood. Of course they were such entirely different people. How could they be in sympathy with each other?

Sylvester did everything he could to make my life interesting—and interesting it was. It was merely that the vital force was lacking. I was young and by no means of a frigid nature. I had tasted the sweets of a union with a lover and I could never forget it.

The great interest between us was of course Jason, but in addition he took me more and more into his confidence. I read a great deal after Jason was in bed and I was becoming moderately knowledgeable in Chinese matters. I learned of the religion and customs of that country. I went up to London once or twice to Sylvester’s offices in Cheapside. I met his staff there and transacted some business for him. I was delighted with my success and so was he.

“It is wonderful,” he said. “You are indeed becoming my right hand.”

Which was small repayment for what he had done for me.

I thought then that it might be that Jason would one day take over his business and I would want to be beside him to advise and help. I had an added incentive.

Sylvester sensed this and encouraged me. He told me about the London office which was small compared with their premises in Kowloon. “There the bulk of the business is done. There we have our warehouse and offices. One day, Jane, you will go there.”

“I shall have to wait until Jason is older.”

He nodded. “I should like to go with you. I want very much to see again my House of a Thousand Lanterns.”

Whenever that name was mentioned for some strange reason I felt a tingling in my blood.

He used to talk of it quite a lot. He tried to describe it to me but it eluded my imagination and I could not visualize it. A house built years ago on the site of a temple.

I could feel excited at the prospect of seeing it.

“Perhaps I could make the journey,” he said.

“That would surely be impossible?”

“Don’t the philosophers say nothing is impossible?”

“How could you go?”

“I can walk across the room with a stick. I walk a little in the gardens. Perhaps if I made up my mind I could overcome my disability sufficiently to make the journey.”

His eyes glowed at the thought and although I believed it was impossible, I let him go on imagining it.

Whenever he spoke of The House of a Thousand Lanterns a change came over him; he seemed younger, more vital than he did at any other time. Then I could almost believe in the possibility of our making the journey there.


* * *

One day when Jason was eighteen months old I took one of my trips to London. I looked forward to these days. I liked to feel myself growing more and more knowledgeable about the business, and the excitement of seeing Jason when I returned made a happy ending to my day.

Jeffers would drive me to the station and at the end of the train journey I would take a cab to the office in Cheapside. When I had finished what I came to do I would have a cab back to the station and Jeffers would meet me at the other end. It had become a routine. I was no longer a young girl. I was a matron.

On this occasion all went according to plan.

I arrived at the office where they were expecting me. I met John Heyland, Sylvester’s head clerk, his two assistants and the young man in charge of the storeroom. There I saw the jade ornaments which would be delivered to buyers. Luncheon was brought in from a nearby restaurant and I took this with Mr. Heyland who talked of the old days before the family had split up. He thought it was a pity. Now there were three firms where there had been one—with Mr. Sylvester, Mr. Adam, and young Mr. Joliffe all working on their own. He had been in the Hong Kong office with Sylvester’s father who would, he assured me, turn in his grave if he knew there was all this division in the family.

I decided that I would do some shopping before I caught my train, so I arranged to leave the office early, and as I came out into the street there was Joliffe.

“Why, Jane!” he cried, his eyes alight with excitement so that poignant memories flooded my mind and for a few seconds I was happy simply because he was there.

Then I stammered: “How did you know I was here?”

All the old charm was in his smile and there was a hint of mischief in it too. He used to say “Didn’t you know I was the omniscient one?”

“Simple detection,” he said now. “A nod, a wink, a word in the right direction.”

“Someone in there told you,” I said aghast. “Oh Joliffe, you had no right…”

He took my arm and held it firmly. “I had every right.”

“I have to catch a train.”

“Not just yet,” he said.

My heart leaped in a joyous expectation as I reminded myself that I had left two hours for shopping.

“I must talk to you, Jane.”

“What is there to be said? It’s all clear, isn’t it?”

“There is so much to be said. So much to be made clear.”

“I must not miss my train. Jeffers will be waiting.”

“Let him wait. In any case your train won’t leave for two hours. We’ll get a cab. I know a place where we can have tea. We can be quite alone…”

“No, Joliffe,” I said firmly.

“All right then. We’ll go to the station. I’ll be with you till the train leaves. That will give us a little time to talk.”

Before I could answer he had hailed a cab. We sat side by side and when he took my hand and looked into my face, I turned away, afraid of the emotions he could arouse in me.

“So we have a son,” he said.

“Please, Joliffe…”

“He is my son,” he went on. “I should see him.”

“You can’t take him from me,” I said fearfully.

“As if I would. I want him and you… but mostly you, Jane.”

“It’s no use.”

“Why? Because you made that foolish marriage?”

“It was not foolish. It was the right thing to do. The baby has a wonderful home. He will grow up in the security he needs.”

“And which he couldn’t have with me?”

“How could he when you have a wife living?”

“Jane, I swear to you I thought she was dead. You must believe me.”

“Whatever I believe the fact is that she exists. She would be there always in our lives. How could a child be brought up happily in such circumstances?”

“You left me before you knew there was to be a child. You didn’t love me, Jane.”

The cab stopped at the station. We alighted and he gripped my arm firmly as though he feared I would run away. We went into the station buffet. It was noisy as such places are. Every now and then we heard the shunting of the trains, the shrill whistles, and the shouts of porters. It was not the ideal surroundings in which to discuss such a highly emotional problem.