“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. “Hom 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. “Yes,” returned Fin Fan, snapping off a thread. “Without my honorable brother’s consent.” “And your mother gone but six moons!” O’Yam’s face wore a shocked expression. “Does the fallen leaf grieve because the green one remains on the tree?” queried Fin Fan. “You must love Hom Hing well,” murmured O’Yam—“more than Fou Wang loves me.” “Nay,” returned her companion, “Fou Wang’s love for you is as big as mine for Hom Hing. It is my brother’s conscience alone that stands between him and you. You know that.” “He loves not me,” sighed O’Yam. “If he does not love you,” returned Fin Fan, “why, when we heard that you were unwell, did he sleeplessly pace his room night after night until the news came that you were restored to health? Why does he treasure a broken fan you have cast aside?” “Ah, well!” smiled O’Yam. Fin Fan laughed softly. “Fou Wang is not as other men,” said she. “His conscience is an inheritance from his great-great-grandfather.” Her face became pensive as she added: “It is sad to go across the sea without an elder brother’s blessing.” She repeated this to Liuchi and Mai Gwi Far, the widow, whom she met on her way home. “Why should you,” inquired the latter, “when there is a way by which to obtain it?” “How?” “Did Ah So Nan leave no garments behind her—such garments as would well fit her three souls—and is it not always easy to delude the serious and the wise?” “Ah!” III O’Yam climbed the stairs to the joss house. The desire for solitude brought her there; but when she had closed the door upon herself, she found that she was not alone. Fou Wang was there. Before the images of the Three Wise Ones he stood, silent, motionless. “He is communing with his mother’s spirit,” thought O’Yam. She beheld him through a mist of tears. Love filled her whole being. She dared not move, because she was afraid he would turn and see her, and then, of course, he would go away. She would stay near him for a few moments and then retire. The dim light of the place, the quietness in the midst of noise, the fragrance of some burning incense, soothed and calmed her. It was as if all the sorrow and despair that had overwhelmed her when her father had told her to prepare for her wedding with Moy Ding Fong had passed away. After a few moments she stepped back softly towards the door. But she was too late. Fou Wang turned and beheld her.