“And she was really found?”

“Yes, by my brother Redmond. I remember now hearing of it. He brought the child in from the streets and found a home for her.”

“Why did he choose her amongst all the girl babies which must have been exposed on that night?”

“It was luck for Lotus Blossom that he came across her. ‘Good Joss’ she would call it. It would seem to her that the gods had some special reason for preserving her.”

Her coming into the house had had a great effect on me. So fragile, so dependent she seemed at times, at others she would assume the role of protectress. The rickshaw would take us into the center of the town and we would shop together. She would bargain with the traders while I stood by, marveling at the manner in which her gentle humility changed to shrewdness. The soft accents would become indignantly shrill as she and the salesman berated each other. I feared they would come to blows, but she assured me that it was all part of the business of buying and selling and expected.

With her, I felt completely at home in those alien streets, and because she was with me I attracted less attention than I would with someone of my own race. She would chatter away in her own tongue and then turn to me and make some acid comment such as “He very dishonest man. He ask too much. He think he get from you because you not Chinese.” Her voice would become strident, her flower-like hands would express contempt and outrage. I never ceased to find pleasure in watching her. Together we would explore the alleys known as Thieves’ Market. There would be displayed antiques of all description, among them Buddhas, some in ivory, jade, and rose quartz. They fascinated me and whenever we had an hour to spare I would want to go there. There were also vases, ornaments, and scrolls. I delighted in assessing their age. Once I bought a Buddha in rose quartz and delightedly took it back to the house for Sylvester’s inspection. I had found a bargain he assured me; and I remember now how when I told Lottie she took the figure and hugged it ecstatically to her little breast; then she knelt and took my hand and said: “I will serve you as long as I live.”

She charmed me in a hundred ways and soon I couldn’t imagine the household without her.

I gave lessons to Jason every day and Lottie came to join them. They would sit at the table and Jason would labor over his copperplate writing, his tongue peeping out from one side of his mouth as though to inspect what his hands were doing. Lottie was learning to write too and we all read together in English. I had brought books with me, some old annuals which I had had as a child and which contained colored pictures and stories with a moral.

Both of them would listen gravely to these stories and then they would read them aloud. I was very happy with them and there was no doubt that Jason was growing fond of Lottie. She had become nurse to him; they would play in the gardens together. Often I would see them from my window walking hand in hand.

I was beginning to love the little half-Chinese girl. She was very accomplished and could embroider and paint exquisitely on silk. I liked to watch the beautiful Chinese characters flow from her hand when she wrote.

“You teach me to speak better English,” she said. “I teach you Chinese.”

Sylvester was delighted at the thought of so much learning going on.

“You will find it a difficult language,” he warned me. “But if you could master even the rudiments it would be of great use to you. The original Chinese characters were simply hieroglyphics like the ancient Egyptian ones. It’s important of course that you should understand the modern language. The Sung-te is the form used in printing. It’s very beautiful as you’ve noticed.”

I smiled inwardly but affectionately. Sylvester always made me feel like a student and I had never lost my desire to shine in his eyes. It was a strange relationship for husband and wife but then ours was no ordinary marriage.

“It was an excellent plan of Adam’s to send the girl to us,” he said. “It’s good for Jason. He’ll get to understand something of the Chinese way of life and she’ll be a help in that. I’ve plans for Jason.”

I guessed what those plans were. He wanted my son to learn, from him and me, the joy of buying and selling works of art, the eternal quest for the masterpiece which never flags. And how could he better be inspired than by living here where these particular treasures might be found?

I had discovered that Sylvester was a very rich man—the house in England, this one here, the warehouses on the waterfront, the offices in London, meant that his interests stretched far and wide. Since he had been in sole control his business had extended considerably. I wondered often how much Adam’s attentions to us were due to a desire to join forces with him again.

Sylvester talked of his nephew now and then. He was undoubtedly pleased that they were friendly. I gathered that at the time his father Redmond had broken away the relationship between them had been very cool indeed. Sylvester had a high opinion of Adam, and I was sure that had things not turned out in the way they had he would very likely have made Adam his heir. He was quite obviously the favorite of the two nephews. Sylvester’s opinion of Joliffe was not very good. I imagined that he had always thought him irresponsible, but in view of what had happened he had no time for Joliffe now.

I understood the way in which Sylvester’s mind was working. He looked on Jason as his own son and wanted to make him his heir. Everything had changed since the birth of my boy. I wondered how much Adam guessed of this.

I found Adam somewhat taciturn and I had the impression that he disliked me. I was not really surprised, for if he had an inkling of what was in Sylvester’s mind he would naturally be displeased that my son might displace him and that would be very galling, especially if his own business was not flourishing.

I was growing more and more friendly with Tobias Grantham. It was a great pleasure to go down to the warehouse when Sylvester was not feeling well enough as I used to go to the London office. There I would work a while with Toby. We would have tea together sometimes in his office and once he took me to his home where I met his sister. She was a stern-faced woman several years his senior and to enter her neat little house was like being transported to Edinburgh. Her accent was more pronounced than Toby’s and she was inclined to be censorious of anything alien to the Scottish way of life, a rather uncomfortable woman, as Sylvester had said; but her devotion to her brother was obvious and I found myself liking her in spite of a rather prim and unrelenting manner.

I enjoyed those occasions very much and with this and the change Lottie had brought into the house I began to feel a kind of quiet contentment. Sometimes I recalled the ecstasy I had known with Joliffe and he would refuse to be dismissed from my thoughts. He would be back in England now and I often wondered what was happening between him and Bella. I knew that I would never again feel the ecstasy I had shared with him and sometimes in the loneliness of the night the bitter sorrow would envelop me and I would long to see him again.

But in the morning when Jason stood by my bedside and climbed in with me I would be assuaged. He would read to me as I lay dozing, for now that he was able to read he read everything that came within his reach. Then Lottie would come in—demure in blue trousers and tunic, her long hair tied back with a turquoise blue ribbon and she would bow and wish a happy day to Great Lady and Little Master.

One day she had taken Jason out to the pagoda—it was a favorite place of theirs; they used to sit inside it while she told him stories of dragons. He could never hear enough of the beasts. They had fascinated him from the moment he had discovered one outside the gates.

The rain had fallen in torrents and when they came in they were soaked to the skin. I made Jason take off all his wet clothes and rubbed him dry with a towel. Then I made him put on dry clothes.

I turned to Lottie and noticed that she was still wearing her wet shoes.

Take them off at once, Lottie. Here are some slippers.”

She looked at me in dismay and puzzled, I pushed her into a chair and pulled off her shoes before she could answer.

Then she did a strange thing. She picked up her wet shoes and ran out of the room.

When Jason was dressed I went to find her. She was lying on her bed on her back and the tears ran slowly down her cheeks.

“Whatever’s the matter, Lottie?” I demanded.

But she would only shake her head.

“Lottie,” I said, “if anything is wrong you must tell me.”

Still she only shook her head.

“You know I am fond of you, Lottie. I want to help you. Do tell me what is wrong.”

“You will hate me. You will find me ugly.”

“Hate you! Find you ugly. Nothing could be farther from the truth. You know that. Tell me. Perhaps I can put right whatever is wrong.”

She shook her head. “It can never be right. It is forever and you have seen…”

I was puzzled, not having the faintest notion of what she was talking about. “Lottie,” I said, “if you don’t tell me what is wrong I will think you are not fond of me after all.”

“No, no,” she cried in distress. “It is because I have reverence for Great Lady that I so ashamed.”

“Is it something you have done which makes you ashamed?”

“It was done to me,” she said tragically.

“Now Lottie I am going to insist that you tell me.”

“You have seen my feet,” she said.

“Why Lottie,” I said, “what do you mean?” I took her little foot in my hand and kissed it.

“Peasant’s feet,” she said. “Coolie’s feet. No one cared for them when I was little.”

I was horrified. I knew that she was referring to the fact that unlike so many Chinese girls her feet were perfect because they had not been bandaged in such a way as to distort them when she was a child.

This seemed to me very pathetic. I tried to comfort her. I told her how fortunate she was to have a pair of perfect feet.

I could not convince her though.

She only shook her head and silently wept.


* * *

I was gradually and almost imperceptibly becoming accustomed to the social life of Hong Kong.

I met Adam now and then; my feelings for him changed a little when I saw him handling a beautiful Ming vase and forgetting his animosity to me—of which I had been conscious since I met him—he explained its quality to me. The coldness disappeared then; he seemed vital and so earnest that in spite of myself I found I was warming towards him. He still lived in a tall narrow house near the waterfront, which he had shared with his father until the latter’s death. Like The House of a Thousand Lanterns it was half European half Chinese, and many Chinese servants moved silently about the place.

Jason seemed to have forgotten already that he had known any other life. Only rarely now did he talk of Mrs. Couch with regret. Lottie was ample compensation. At times it seemed that they were two children playing together; at others she assumed great wisdom and a quaint air of authority which he recognized. It was a comfort and pleasure to observe how fond they were of each other and as I knew he was safe with her I allowed him when he was with her to go beyond the four walls which enclosed the house. Lottie had procured for him a kite made of silk and split bamboo. This kite was Jason’s most cherished possession. It was beautifully made and on it was a delicate painting of a dragon. Lottie had done this herself knowing his interest in such animals. From the dragon’s mouth issued fire. In the kite were little round holes supplied with vibrant cords, so that when the kite was flying there came from it a humming sound similar to that which would be made by a swarm of bees. Jason rarely went anywhere without his kite; he kept it near his bed so that it was the last thing he saw before closing his eyes and the first on opening them. He called it his Fire Dragon.

Lottie was delighted that a gift of hers should give such pleasure, and I told Adam how grateful I was to him for having brought her to me.

He replied that he believed he had earned double gratitude from me and from Lottie.

There was no doubt that she was forming a bridge for me. The more I knew Lottie, the more I began to understand the Chinese. I could even speak a little of their language; I learned a great deal of their customs; and I was completely absorbed by everything around me.