The sun was setting, and as the two walked away, gong-beats were heard from the opposite side of the lotus pond. A small company carrying torches and lanterns wended their way between the grave mounds over a little rising ground to the left. Then another similar company emerged from another house, and started in the same direction. Then another along the right bank. These latter were evidently coming past the gate.

“Go and see the sights, my child; I want to think.”

“But”—

“But what?”

“Do you think it is quite safe? Will they be coming here again?” She meant the two visitors. Strange indeed that feeling which is one moment aching longing, and at another nervous dread. What a queer girl this Chinese maiden must have been!

Her father, however, did not catch the point of her remark. “Well, if they do, they need not see you. Shut the gate; those military ‘students’ are not over polite.”

“He is handsome. No, it is more than that, he is so kind. I can trust him. He is so good. He is noble. But that left hand of his! And his face looked worn. Has he been ill? Has the foreigner saved him too? He does not seem to be employed by him.