“But it is sure. The people will everywhere rise. I know it--here!” “That is my hope, too. But to stir this great land means so much in effort and education. You have changed, yes. Your father has changed. Sun Yat Sen was educated in a medical school and has lived in America and England; he has changed. But all China--I do not want to dash your hopes, dear Miss Hui, but I fear China is not nearly so far along as you and I would wish.” “Then--even so--mus' my father die because a wicked empress has no brains? It is no' right. Listen, please! If you, Mis'er Doane, would jus' try to persua' my father! He will listen to you. Oh, if you woul' stay with us, an' help us. We coul' take some money, some jewels, an' escape down the river--to Shanghai--to Japan, or even America. My father mus' no' die like this. There will be a few servan's we can trus'. You speak to my father, sir, an' he will listen. I know that. He says you have the mind of the ol' philosopher--of Lao-tze himself. He said that. An' you have the Western strength that he admires. An' he says you un'erstan' China. Oh, will you speak to him?” Doane stared out into the luminous night. This response in his breast to her eager youth frightened him now. He had felt of late that life mattered little; certainly not his own. But youth, and hope, and faith--they mattered. He took her small hand in his own. His heart was beating high. It was going to be hard now, to control his voice. He was, then, after all the years, the struggles, the beatings, incurably romantic.... Stirred yet by the vibrant pulse of youth that in some men and women never dies. He himself had thought this negative spirit of the past few years a philosophy, but apparently, it was nothing of the sort. Or where was it now? For he was suddenly all nervously alive, a man of vigor and pride, a man of urgent emotional need.... “I will try,” he said. She clung to his hand. “I have your promise?” He bowed. “I must think. I should not like to fail. There will be time. He will”--it was hard to phrase this--“he will wait, surely, until he is at home. But you must not stay longer here. And we must not meet again like this. I will try my best to help you.” It seemed a pitifully inadequate speech. But the wild impulse was upon him to clasp her lovely person in his arms--claim her, fight for her, live again a man's life through and for her. It was, he deliberately thought, almost insane in him. A man with nothing to offer, not even the great hope of youth, struggling against an emotion, a hunger, that it was grotesque to indulge. He compressed his lips tightly. She seemed breathless. For a moment she pressed her hands to her cheeks and eyes; then waved to him and went lightly down the ladder. CHAPTER V--RESURGENCE