The Yellow Pearl: A Story of the East and the West
Play Sample
I repeated the lines which I had heard them sing in the church.
"That's about the way it is," he returned, looking at me in pleased surprise.
He left this morning on an early train, to go back to the peg and grind, and now the place is slow and lonesome.After all I think it is better to have to peg and grind; it surely must be the spice of life which rich people miss.I do not care how quickly the hot months pass, and we can go back to the city again.
Sept.30th, 1——
We are all back in the city again, and settled into the old routine; but there is a new excitement in the air.Aunt Gwendolin insists that I require to go to some fashionable "Young Ladies' Boarding School," to be "finished." She says (but not in grandmother's hearing) that I do not talk as I should, that my voice is quite ordinary, and I must learn the tone of society ladies before I can be brought out
"You mean the artificial tone?" said Uncle Theodore, who was present when I was getting my lecture.
"Call it what you like, Theodore," snapped Aunt Gwendolin, "it is the tone used by an American society woman; the girl talks yet in the natural voice of a child."
"Would that she could always keep it," returned Uncle Theodore.
After much talking my aunt persuaded my grandmother that I should go to some such school.
"My dear," said grandmother timidly, "your aunt seems to think you may gain much by a period spent in some good school.She may be right.It certainly cannot hurt you, and if it can be of any benefit there is nothing to prevent your having it."
To comfort dear grandmother I raised no objection, and it is settled that I go in the fall term.The choice of a school was left entirely to Aunt Gwendolin, and she has decided upon the most expensive and most fashionable one in the country.She has been corresponding with the lady principal; my rooms have been ordered; and everything is complete.
One day my aunt placed in my hand one of her monogrammed sheets of writing-paper, pointing to the following paragraph:
"It is the family's wish that much attention be given to preparing the young girl whom I am sending to you, for Society; heavy or arduous work in any other line is of secondary consideration.The prestige of your school could not fail to be enhanced by the presence of a Spanish girl of good family."
"I am not a Spanish girl, Aunt Gwendolin!"I said.
"I did not say you were," returned my aunt, "I simply said the prestige of her school could not fail to be enhanced by the presence of one."
Have I got to live up to that?
Boarding School, October 10th, 1——
I am here at last, accompanied by two large leather trunks, which Aunt Gwendolin has filled with all sorts of costumes, for all sorts of occasions.
A page opened the door in response to the hackman's ring, when after some hours' journey by rail, I arrived at the fashionable "Boarding School," and a maid conducted me up a flight of softly carpeted steps to my appointed rooms.
I had not more than taken off my wraps, when Madam Demill (she has declared that her name should be spelled De Mille, but it has become corrupted in this democratic America) the head of the establishment, called upon me.She was cold, hard, stately; a creature of whalebone and steel as to body, and of pompadours and artificial braids as to head.
She announced after her first greeting that there was going to be a party that evening, and she wished me to be dressed in evening costume, and appear in the drawing-room at half past eight o'clock.
"If you would wear some of your distinctly Spanish costumes it would be very apropos," she added."I see you have the decided Spanish complexion.I am glad you are pronounced in your nationality; it is so much more interesting.As you did not arrive in time for dinner, a tray shall be brought to your room with sufficient refreshment to keep you in good feature until you partake of the refreshment offered at the party," she added as she swept from the room.
How helpless I felt!I was to dress in evening costume for the "party."What was I to put on?For the first time in my life I wished that Aunt Gwendolin were near me. How I longed for my yellow silk gown that my governess in China had designed with flowing sleeves trimmed with "sprawling dragons!" I knew I looked better in that than in anything else, and I knew how to put it on; no infinitesimal hooks and eyes, pins and buttons, to be found, and put in exact places; which if one fails to do in the American gown the whole thing goes awry.
My worry was dispelled by the arrival of the maid with the promised tray.It was not too heavily laden to prevent me from completely emptying it, with the exception of the dishes.
While I was eating the maid unpacked my trunks,—you have not got to do much for yourself in a fashionable boarding school—hanging the articles in an adjoining clothes closet.During the same period of time a happy thought occurred to me.
"I will call Aunt Gwendolin over the long distance telephone and ask her what I shall wear at the party to-night!"was the happy inspiration.
In response to my request the maid conducted me to the telephone, and when the connection was made, I called:
"Hello, Aunt Gwendolin!This is the Yellow Pearl speaking!"
"How does that little minx know that she is the yellow peril?"I heard my aunt say, probably to Uncle Theodore in the room beside her.Then she turned to me and replied:
"Well."
"What gown shall I wear to-night at the party?"
Back over the two hundred miles of field, forest, lake, came Aunt Gwendolin's thin, squeaky voice:
"Wear your cream-coloured Oriental lace."
"Does it fasten in the front or back?If in the back I cannot put it on myself!"I returned, over the fields and trees and waters.
"Yes, you can, get some of the girls to fasten it for you," cried the voice through the phone. "Be sure and wear that; it so emphasises your Spanish style of beau——"
I hung up the receiver.
At my request the maid helped me to get into the cream Oriental lace; and at half past eight I made my appearance in the drawing-room, as to dress, looking like a Spanish grande dame, and as to face, looking as yellow, and lonesome, and sour as the fiercest Spanish brigand.
I was introduced to Mr. This-One, and Mr. That-One and Mr. The-Other-One.They all looked alike to me, with high collars, and patent-leather shoes.After awhile there was a little dance, but as I did not know how I had to sit against the wall, and Madam Demill said I must be put under a dancing master at once.
The day following, in the afternoon (all the so-called lessons are gone through in the forenoon, and we have nothing to do but amuse ourselves the rest of the day) a number of the girls came to call on me in my apartments.There were a dozen or more of them present when an arrogant-looking one, with her hair arranged in an immense pompadour over her forehead, from ear to ear, drawled through her nose.
"I suppose you do not love Americans since we beat your country at the battle of Manila?"
"No," I said truthfully, "I do not love Americans."(Of course I mentally excepted grandmother, Professor Ballington, Chauffeur Graham—and Uncle Theodore when he acts nice.)
The girls threw their chins into the air, their eyes shot fire, and I heard several faint sniffs.
Then a slim, golden-haired, blue-eyed girl stepped out from the group, and coming quickly to my side, she put her arm around me and said:
"We'll make her love us!" and she actually touched her rosebud lips to my yellow cheek.
Since that I have not hated Americans quite so savagely.
The act seemed to have a softening effect on the others, too, for from that time they all have treated me very decently, even the girl with the pompadour.
Golden Hair seems to have a great deal of influence in the school. There are some nice girls in America.
Oct.15th, 1——
Life in this "Fashionable Boarding School" is just about a repetition, daily, of what transpired the evening of my arrival.It is not worth recording, so I am closing up my diary until I return to grandmother's.It takes Yick, and Mrs. Yet, and Chauffeur Graham, and Professor Ballington, and even a pinch of Aunt Gwendolin to give a little spice to life.
Thanksgiving
I took a run back to grandmother's for what those Americans call Thanksgiving—It is most amusing to foreigners like me—and Yick.
On grandmother's table there was what they tell me is the regulation dinner for the day—roast turkey and pumpkin pie.
When Yick, in his best costume, had walked proudly into the dining room with the immense turkey on a platter, and deposited it on the table, he returned to the kitchen convulsed with laughter, Betty has told me since.
"Christians queer people!Christians queer people!"he sputtered merrily."Thank God eat turkey, thank God eat turkey!"
I knew what Yick meant, the Oriental idea of thanking God would have been some act of self-denial.It was hard for the poor "heathen Chinee" to construe the American self-indulgence into an act of thanksgiving. Poor Yick, and poor Yellow Pearl! How far both of you are from comprehending civilisation.
Holidays, Dec.20th, 1——
I am back again at grandmother's for the holidays.Grandmother and Uncle Theodore seemed so glad to see me that I am beginning to feel quite as if this were home.Yick and Betty are still here, Chauffeur Graham still manipulates the automobile.
Mrs. Delancy gave a "little Christmas dance," as she calls it, last night, and the description has come out in the morning paper:
"The home of Mrs. Delancy was transformed into a bower of flowers, ferns and softly shaded lights, on the night of her Christmas dance.The hall and staircase were decorated with Southern smilax entwined with white flowers, and the dressing-rooms with mauve orchids; while in the drawing-room the mantelpiece was banked with Richmond roses and maidenhair ferns, and that in the dining room with lily-of-the-valley and single daffodils. Passing through the dining room, where an orchestra was stationed behind a screen of bamboo, twined with flowers, the guests entered the Japanese tea pavilion, which had been erected for the occasion. The entrance was formed of bamboo trellis work covered with Southern smilax, flowers, and innumerable tiny electric lights. The walls were covered with fluted yellow silk, and from the ceiling depended dozens of baskets filled with flowers interspersed with Japanese lanterns and parasols. Huge bouquets of chrysanthemums were fastened against the wall. The table was exquisitely decorated with enormous baskets of flowers; in the centre was one with large mauve orchids over which was tilted a large pink Japanese umbrella, trimmed with violets, while from each basket sprang bamboo wands suspended from which were Japanese lanterns filled with lily-of-the-valley and violets, the whole forming the most beautiful scheme of decoration seen this season."
How tired I am writing it all!I wonder if any one felt tired looking at it.
Then followed a description of the ladies' gowns:
"The ladies were simply stunning in their smartest gowns, Mrs. Delancy queening it in an exquisite apple-green satin, with pearls and diamonds; Miss Morgan (which means my respected aunt), whose sparkling blonde beauty always charms her friends, in maize chiffon, through which sparkled a gold-sequined bodice and underskirt, and Mrs. Deforest, dark and graceful, in a rich white satin gown. Mrs. Austin looked extremely handsome in a most becoming orchid gown, with ribbon of the same shade twisted in her dark hair."
There was a lot more of the same, but my hand refuses to write it. One would think it was a number of half-grown children the newspaper reporter was trying to please by saying nice things about them. Strange that in this America nothing is ever said about what the women say or do at those social functions; nothing seems worth noticing about them but the kind of clothes they have on. The men do not count for anything at all.
I wonder was Professor Ballington there. I wonder did he look at any one with that smile away back in his eyes which was there when he looked at me the time I sang my one Spanish song.
December 21st, 1——
Yick has given us a new diversion. Aunt Gwendolin gave him orders to make a particularly nice layer-cake for an afternoon "tea."
Yick is quite proud of his cakes, and this day he wished to outdo anything he had previously done, so he made a layer cake, icing it with red and white trimmings.He delights to get a new recipe, or find some new way of decoration.The daily paper, which always in the end finds its way into the kitchen, had evidently attracted his attention.He saw in the advertisement pages a round box with an inscription on top. Taking the box for a cake, he decorated his culinary effort in imitation of the picture. Aunt Gwendolin never saw it until it was carried in to the table, before all the finest ladies of the city, and this was what they all read, in three rows of red letters across the white icing:
Dodd's
Kidney
Pills
Who says my people are not clever and original?
Dec.23d, 1——
It is drawing near the festive season in this remarkable land, and there is a great bustle everywhere.Some people are concerned about providing luxuries for themselves, and some are concerned about providing for those poorer than themselves.
Mrs. Delancy came in all fagged out from her arduous work of shopping.
"I have just been treating myself to a few little Christmas presents," she gasped, as she carried a great, fat, pug dog and deposited him on grandmother's best white satin sofa pillow.She called the dog many endearing names, such as "darling," "little baby boy," "sweet one," and "tootsy-wootsy."
Dogs are thought as much of as babies in America; those are the very same terms of endearment that the women address to their babies.
"I had to leave this little darling in a restaurant to be fed and cared for while I did my shopping," she explained. "He would come with me, the pet."
She then informed Aunt Gwendolin that she had been to the milliner's and ordered five hats, and had just completed the purchase of a three thousand dollar jacket at the furrier's.
The dog on the pillow whined in the midst of her recital, and she stopped long enough to go over and give him a kiss.
She was still enlarging on the beauty of the fur coat, when the housemaid tapped on the door, and ushered Mrs. Paton into the sitting-room.
"I heard that you ladies were here," she said, "and I thought you might like to have the privilege of helping a little in those charities," and she began to unfold some papers which she held in her hand.
"Oh, my dear Mrs. Paton, do not ask me to-day, really," exclaimed Mrs. Delancy, holding up her hands."I am among the poor myself to-day, and you know charity begins at home. I really haven't a cent to give to any one else. I'm stony broke, as the boys say. I have laid out so much money to-day for necessities!"
Mrs. Paton then turned to my aunt and said, "Gwendolin, do give something out of the thousands you are expending on self-indulgence to help those who have not the necessities of life!"
Taking the paper into her hand with an ungracious air, my aunt wrote down a certain amount, and then passed it back.
"Dear me!" sighed Mrs. Delancy, as soon as Mrs. Paton had left the place, "how tired I get of those people with their solicitations for some Y. M. C. A. , or Y. W. C. A. , or something else eternally. They'd keep a person poor if one paid any heed to them, really!Some one starving or unclothed every time! It does annoy me so to hear harrowing tales!"
January 1st, 1——
Last night there was a sound of revelry in this great land.At the solemn hour of midnight, when the old year was dying, and the new year was just being born, one class of people in this American city rushed out into the open streets, cheering, blowing horns, ringing bells, and making all possible noises on all sorts of musical instruments.Another class celebrated the birth of the new year by eating an elaborate meal.This is what appeared in the morning paper regarding the latter:
"One million dollars was spent last night in this city celebrating the birth of another year.More than twenty-five thousand persons engaged tables at from three to ten dollars a plate in the leading hotels and cafés."
How fond of eating Americans are!
This is the first time I have seen the birth of a new year in any but my native land, and my mind goes back to the celebration on a similar occasion in China.It is a solemn event there.For weeks the people are preparing for it; houses are cleaned, and debts are paid, for a Chinaman, if he has any self-respect, will be sure to pay his debts before the new year.
I told this to Uncle Theodore a few days ago, and he said, "I wish that Americans would rise to that state of grace."
Nobody goes to bed that night, but all sit up waiting for the first hour of the new year, when the father of the home, his wife and children all worship before the spirit tablets of their ancestors, and then at the shrine of the household gods.
Then the door is opened, and the whole family with the servants go outside and bow down to a certain part of the heavens, and so worship heaven and earth, and receive the spirit of gladness and good fortune, which they say comes from that quarter.
At the same hour, when the old year is dying, China's Emperor, as High Priest of his people, goes in state to worship. Kneeling alone under the silent stars he renders homage to the Superior Powers. He on his imperial throne makes the third in the great Trinity, Heaven, Earth, and Man. Should there come a famine or pestilence, upon him rests the blame, and he must by sacrifice and prayer atone for the imperfections of which heaven has seen him guilty.
Oh, China!I would prefer kneeling with you under the silent stars on New Year's eve, to feasting at the groaning tables, or ringing the bells and blowing the horns of this great, civilised, noisy America!
January 7th, 1——
Oh, glorious! Grandmother says I need not go back to boarding school for the winter term; she says the family always go South during the cold weather, and she wants me to go with them. Wants me, think of it, wants me. Isn't it nice to have somebody want one along with her! I believe grandmother really loves me. Aunt Gwendolin doesn't; she wanted me sent back to school. She said I would never be fit to be brought out with that kind of carrying on. I love those that love me, but as for loving those that hate me, as grandmother had been teaching me from the Bible, I haven't come to that yet.
That reminds me, I wish Aunt Gwendolin would stop snapping at Yick; I am afraid some day he will kill himself on the doorstep, so his ghost may haunt her the rest of her life.But I think he likes grandmother and the other members of the family sufficiently well to cause him to refrain from that act of Chinese revenge.
Mexico, February 1st, 1——
A great migratory movement has taken place in our family—we are now in the warm, sunny country called Mexico.
Aunt Gwendolin was the cause of it.She said she was tired of going to Florida, that it was so common to go there now, everybody was going there, that the latest thing was to winter in Mexico, and she thought we all ought to follow suit. She talked and argued so much about it that she persuaded grandmother and Uncle Theodore to her way of thinking, and after travelling hundreds of miles in Pullman and sleeper cars, here we are in this land of cactus fences, tortillas, great snakes, and parrots; this land where roses and strawberries grow all the year round; where in some parts are luscious tropical fruits, flowers, and palms.
Mrs. Delancy has come along with us, and Professor Ballington says he may join our party later.There are many Americans around us in the various towns—it is so fashionable at present to winter in Mexico.
Uncle Theodore takes me out for long walks with him in this land of perpetual summer, and we see many strange and interesting sights. The rich are so very rich, and the poor are so very poor. There is one drawback—we had to leave behind us our automobile. Of course we can hire one here, but we can not have our own lovely chauffeur, and grandmother says she is afraid to trust any of those Mexicans. I suppose our poor chauffeur is pegging away hard over his medical lore now, while I am lounging around doing nothing. The granddaughter of a millionairess, with money to get anything I want, and yet I am beginning to think there is nothing worth getting. It is lovely to be poor like the chauffeur and have to work hard for something. My life is so small and worthless that I am oppressed with it.
One of the sights that interest us the most when we are out in the country are the cactus hedges.There are great palisades of the organ-cactus lining the railways, and there are ragged, loose-jointed varieties used for corralling cattle.Great plantations of a species of cactus called maguey with stiff, prickly leaves a dull, bluish-green, are seen in abundance.From this plant the Mexicans get not only thread, pins, and needles, but pulque, the juice or sap of the plant, which they ferment and make into a national beverage.Pulque is used by the Mexicans as whisky is used by Americans, and opium by Chinamen.
Great fields of maize are cultivated, of which there are two or three crops a year.The food of the people is tortillas, made out of this maize mashed into a paste and baked into flat cakes.
I ate those tortillas when I first came, as a curiosity, a native production, but I am not going to eat any more.While Uncle Theodore and I were watching a woman making them, great drops of perspiration fell from her brow into the paste.She pounded away, poor tired creature, and paid no heed to the drops.Poor women of Mexico, they have to work so hard, preparing the paste, and making those little cakes to be eaten hot at every meal!But no more tortillas for me.
We visited the old churches which are beautifully decorated with veined marble and alabaster.Precious stones seem to grow in this remarkable land.
"Keep your eyes open, Pearl," said my uncle, "and you may pick up some opals, or amethysts.They grow in this country, and I have heard they can be had for the picking."
Mexico, February 12th, 1——
I have made a discovery—I have found out America's Princely Man!It is Abraham Lincoln, and this is his Birthday!
Magazines have been coming down from the North telling us all about this Princely Man, and I have asked grandmother and Uncle Theodore hundreds of questions, it seems to me, about him.And I can see that they never get tired answering those questions, but seem as if they could talk about him forever.
Scarcely a political debate occurs, either in Congress or in the Press of the country, but the possible views or actual example of Abraham Lincoln are quoted as the strongest argument, Uncle Theodore says.
The magazines find it impossible to publish too much about him.Mention of his name in an incidental fashion from a stage or forum draws a burst of cheering; or if the reference is of a humorous nature the laughter is close to tears.
"With love and reverence his memory is cherished by the American people as is the memory of no other man," said dear grandmother."Quoting a 'Decoration Day' orator," she added, "'He was called to go by the sorrowful way, bearing the awful burden of his people's woe, the cry of the uncomforted in his ears, the bitterness of their passion on his heart.Misunderstood, misjudged, he was the most solitary of men.He had to tread the wine-press alone, and of the people none went with him. But he turned not back. He never faltered. As one upheld, sustained by the Unseen Hand, he set his face steadfastly, undaunted, unafraid, until in Death's black minute he paid glad life's arrears: the slaves free! Himself immortal!' "
Yes, it is quite certain that Abraham Lincoln is America's Princely Man!
I would like to make something happen in the world that would be talked about after I am dead. Grandmother says that it is only something that one does for the good of the world that is remembered after he is dead. "If a man has money, people will lionize him as long as he is living for the sake of it," she says, "but money counts for nothing when a man is dead."
"Money!"said Uncle Theodore, who had been listening to our talk."I doubt whether Abe ever owned enough to buy a farm."
February 15th, 1——
One comfort, I am not bothered much with Aunt Gwendolin—she has become acquainted with a French nobleman, Count de Pensier, and he is attracting all her attention, thanks be to goodness! Mrs. Delancy is delighted, and is doing all she can to further the acquaintance. "It is not every day that one has the privilege of associating daily and hourly with one of the titled aristocracy of the old world," she has said several times in my hearing.
When we first arrived Aunt Gwendolin saw some of the Spanish ladies wearing mantillas on their heads, and she immediately bought one for me.
"There!"she said when I put it on, "isn't that simply perfect? Doesn't that make her Spanish through and through?" She says that when I become a thorough Spanish-American she is going to give a "coming out party" for me.
The scarf is really quite becoming.Uncle Theodore admired it, or admired me with it on, so I wear it wound around my head when I go on my rambles through the country with him.I really much prefer it to the bristling hats of the American women, and it is quite pleasant to be called "señorita," and to be thought Spanish.
These long head scarfs are also worn by the poor women, but theirs are made of cotton.On the street they carry their babies strapped to their backs with it, the little heads and legs bobbing up and down until one would think they might snap off.Sometimes the scarf ties the baby to the mother's bosom, thus leaving her hands free for other work.
"Our American sensibilities" (quoting Aunt Gwendolin) "are sometimes shocked by Mexican doings."
One day we saw a procession headed by the father carrying a tiny coffin on his head.Behind him walked the mother dragging by the hand a little bare-foot girl, of two or three; and behind them again trotted a dog.The father was drunk, and staggered as he walked.
As we watched the little procession on the way to the graveyard they passed in front of a saloon where they sold pulque.The father wanted another drink, so he started to enter the saloon taking the little coffin under his arm.He stumbled on the threshold, and the little pine box fell out of his hands down onto the flag-stones, the cover coming off. And we saw a little dead baby within the coffin, with a crown of gilt paper on its head, and a cross of gilt paper on its brow. In its little hands were a bunch of flowers. The man laughed awkwardly, put the lid on the coffin and placed it on his head again, proceeding toward the graveyard without his drink, followed by the mother, the girl, and the dog.
"Why do not the American missionaries who are crossing oceans to find heathen, look for them at their own doorstep?"said Uncle Theodore afterwards, when he was telling the story to grandmother.
"Sure enough," returned grandmother, "it does look as if the unenlightened of its own continent is America's first duty."
Aunt Gwendolin is having moonlight walks and talks innumerable with Count de Pensier—and—oh, I am having LIBERTY!
February 21st, 1——
We have had some unusual excitement lately—a bull and tiger fight.The day following, the description came out in a morning paper:
"A fight between a Tiagua bull and a Bengal tiger in the bull ring this afternoon was most ferocious, and will result in the death of both animals.The sickening spectacle was witnessed by 5,500 people, largely Americans, and many of them tourists, who stopped over here especially to witness the barbaric spectacle.After three bulls had been despatched in the regulation manner, the star performance was pulled off. The two animals, enclosed in an iron cage, about thirty feet square, were brought together, and the battle between the enraged brutes commenced. The bull was first taken into the enclosure and given the usual bull fight tortures to arouse his ire, and then the iron cage containing the tiger was wheeled up to the entrance; but the tiger refused to get out and open the battle, and the bull attempted to get into the small cage and get at his adversary. The bull was badly scratched about the face. Finally the tiger came from his cage, and the bull gored the cat with a long, sharp horn as he emerged. With a screech of pain, the cat, with a powerful lunge, broke the bull's right leg, and then the two animals went into the fight for their lives. The tiger was able to spring out of the way of the bull in a number of instances, but when the big, heavy animal caught his adversary it went hard with the tiger. The bull stepped upon the tiger in one instance and there was a crunching of ribs audible in the seats of the amphitheatre.
"The bull disabled the tiger in the back, and after that the fighting was tame, and the Americans cried for pity, while the Mexicans cheered and wanted the performance to continue."
Mrs. Delancy, and Aunt Gwendolin, along with Uncle Theodore and Count de Pensier, attended the fight.Grandmother would not go, and I stayed with her.
"A Christian lady going to a bull fight," I said to grandmother under my breath.
"Yes, my dear," returned grandmother looking really pale, "it shocks me quite as much as youIt was not so when I was young.American women of the present day must see everything.It is deplorable!"
When the scene was the most harrowing, and the Americans were calling for the fight to be stopped, Aunt Gwendolin, and I believe several other American women, fainted, and had to be carried out.
"Dear me, dear me," said grandmother again, when she heard the harrowing details."That is just the way with Americans of the present day; they must see everything.It was not so when I was young."
Who should walk into our presence at that very moment but Professor Ballington. He had heard grandmother's remark, without knowing the cause for her words, and as he was shaking hands with us he said:
"You believe the poet Watson diagnosed Uncle Sam's case when he said:
"It was not so when I was young," said grandmother."How can we lay the shortcoming at the door of Fate?"
"Chinese women would never attend a bull and tiger fight, grandmother," I whispered into her ear when the professor was looking the other way, "nor Chinese gentlemen."
"I hope not, my dear," is all the reply dear grandmother made.
Professor Ballington only stayed with us a day or two; he was just on a tour, he said, and had to cover a certain amount of space within a certain period of time.Grandmother and I were very desirous that he should remain longer; but I really believe Aunt Gwendolin felt relieved when he was gone.She did not appear to feel comfortable with his comprehending eyes upon her when she was entertaining Count de Pensier.
February 28th, 1——
The Count has proposed to my Aunt Gwendolin, and she has accepted him.Grandmother is in tears ever since, and Uncle Theodore is furious.I heard the latter talking to my grandmother—in his excitement he seemed to forget my presence—and he said:
"That Frenchman is just a fortune-hunter, one of those penniless, titled gentry that swarm in Europe.He wants Gwendolin's money to regild a tarnished title, and Gwendolin wants the title!He has found out from Arabella Delancy the size of Gwendolin's fortune, in possession and in prospective, and he has offered his title in exchange for it!That's the size of the whole affair!"
"That's what grieves me most," said grandmother, with quivering lips; "it is not holy matrimony."
"I look for a divorce within five years!"continued my uncle.
"I had always hoped that Gwendolin and Professor Ballington would make up some time," added grandmother.
"Oh, Gwendolin would never suit Ballington," returned Uncle Theodore."Your granddaughter—the little Celestial—is the making of a woman much more to his taste—" He looked up suddenly, and seemed to remember for the first time that I was in the room.
I, sly, subtle Oriental that I am, worked away on my shadow embroidery and never by the wink of an eyelid, or the movement of a muscle showed that I heard a word.
April 5th, 1——
We are home again, and all is bustle and confusion—Aunt Gwendolin is going to be married.She pays no attention to me now at all; and you know, dear diary, how that grieves me.Dressmakers, milliners, caterers, florists, decorators, throng the house.Count de Pensier is staying in a hotel downtown.He calls every forenoon, and every afternoon; and declares, with his hand on his heart, that he cannot return to his own country without his bride.
Cousin Ned has asked me to marry him.He is down in his luck, and blue—missed in his examinations—and he says he believes he might settle down and do something if he were only married.He says the relationship is so far out that there is nothing to hinder him and me from being married.
Get married, indeed!There's nothing farther from my thoughts.
May 25th, 1——
Well the fuss and flurry are all over—they are married, Aunt Gwendolin and Count de Pensier.I cannot do better than copy a paragraph out of the newspaper to describe the doings:
"The church was beautifully decorated with azaleas, palms, orchids; tall white wands supporting sheaves of palms stood at each aisle.The walls of the church were festooned with green wreathing.The bride was given away by her brother, Theodore Morgan, Esq.She looked exceedingly handsome in an exquisite gown of heavy, ivory-white satin, with panel of filet lace, seeded with pearls.The long train was trimmed with lace and pearl seeding.With this was worn a costly lace veil, caught to her Titian hair with a chaplet of orange blossoms, and she carried a shower bouquet of Bridal roses.
"The six bridesmaids were gowned in ivory taffeta silk, wearing picture hats; and each carried an immense bouquet of Bride's-maid's roses."
As is usual at American functions, the men did not seem to be of enough importance to mention anything more than their bare names.
It all took place in Christ's Church. Was He there? Grandmother says He is back in this world now in spirit. What did He think of it all?
"Grandmother," I said when it was all over—the church display, the reception, the eating and drinking, the dressing—"if I am ever married let it be in China."
"My dear child," said grandmother in alarm, "why do you make such a wild request as that?"
"Seated at a table the bride is offered a tiny cup of wine," I replied, "of which she takes a sip, while the bridegroom in a seat opposite her also sips from a similar cup of wine. The cups are then exchanged, and again tasted, and the marriage service is completed.They have time to think about each other, instead of thinking of what a grand show they are making for the world."
Grandmother looked at me in silence a few moments, then she said:
"Your grandfather and I were married quietly in our own little home parlour.I was dressed in white muslin, and your grandfather in corduroy.We were thinking more about each other than anything else, my dear."
The bride and groom, Count and Countess de Pensier, started at once for the ancestral home in sunny France, I suppose to begin regilding the tarnished title Uncle Theodore spoke about.
Oh, be joyful!I shall not have to go to the "Fashionable Boarding School" any more!I shall not have to appear at a "coming out party!" I shall never come out now; I shall always stay in! Grandmother says I may stay in if I want to, and I do want to. I shall never have to steal out the back door in grandmother's clothes any more, sing any more foreign songs, or pretend I am Spanish! It is lovely to be able to act the truth! "It is an ill wind that blows nobody good." (This last is one of grandmother's familiar sayings.)
Cousin Ned has lost one of his eyes!Got it knocked out at the last "Play."
May 30th, 1——
I have made a most astounding discovery.Walking down the street yesterday I saw a great placard on a wall announcing a lecture; subject, "The Yellow Peril."What did it mean?I thought I was the Yellow Pearl, and that nobody outside of the family knew it. But this was spelled p-e-r-i-l instead of P-e-a-r-l. What could it mean? I could go no farther, but returned at once to question grandmother.
"Grandmother!"I cried, entering her room, "what is the yellow peril?"
Dear grandmother's cheeks flushed, and she said, "My dear child, why bother yourself about that?"
"Why, grandmother, I thought when I overheard Aunt Gwendolin talk, that I was the Yellow Pearl; she called me such the first day I came," I said. "But on the placard it is spelled p-e-r-i-l. What does it mean?"
"I am sorry you saw it," said grandmother hesitatingly."There is too much being said on that subject by a certain class of people—It is the world God loves," she added as if talking to herself, "not the United States, Great Britain, Germany; the yellow people are just as dear to God as we are. The gentle Christ looked widely over the world, shed tears for it, shed blood for it."
"What does the yellow peril mean, grandmother?"I repeated anxiously.
"The Mongolian races are more yellow than the Caucasian races," said grandmother, when forced to answer."They are also more numerous, and some people fear that if we allow them in the country they may get the upper hand, and become a menace to our people.Do not think any more about it, Pearl.Our dear late Phillips Brooks," she added after a short pause, "said, 'No nation, as no man, has a right to take possession of a choice bit of God's earth, to exclude the foreigner from its territory, that it may live more comfortably and be a little more at peace. But if this particular nation has been given the development of a certain part of God's earth for universal purposes, if the world in the great march of centuries is going to be richer for the development of a certain national character, built up by a larger type of manhood here, then for the world's sake, for the sake of every nation that would pour in upon it that which would disturb that development, we have a right to stand guard over it.' "
This was a long speech for dear grandmother, who is not given to speechifying, and I know the subject must have given her serious thought, or she would never have remembered it.
"Is America being built up by a larger type of manhood, grandmother?" I asked.
"Oh, my dear, I do not know, I do not know," returned grandmother.
I stopped talking to grandmother, because she looked worried, but I could not stop thinking, I am both the Yellow Pearl, and the yellow peril!Why am I here?What were four hundred millions of us born into the world for?Is yellow badness any worse than white badness?
June 20th, 1——
What a heavenly time we are having, grandmother, Uncle Theodore, and myself, living our nice, quiet lives without distraction!Sometimes we have Professor Ballington in to dinner, then he drops in evenings quite often when he is not formally invited.Other old friends come too, enough to break the monotony.
Chauffeur Graham was obliged to leave grandmother's employ some time ago; indeed he has never come back since we returned from Mexico.He says it is his last term in the Medical College, and he has to give all the time to his studies.It would be nicer if he were around.I do not seem to care about going out in the automobile now at all.—How is one to know whether this new chauffeur may not run the automobile into a telegraph pole, or something, and kill us all?
June 13th, 1——
Chauffeur Graham has graduated. He is now Doctor Graham. Isn't that lovely! Just like a story book! Uncle Theodore and I went up to see him take his degree. My! wasn't he fine looking! Tall, beautiful figure, and, as I said before, a handsome face.Uncle Theodore is quite interested in him, as well as grandmother.
On the evening of the day on which he received his degree, he overtook me as I was walking through the park, and told me that he had noticed me in the audience.
He says he is going to put in a year's practice in the hospital before going to China.I was glad to hear that; it would seem rather lonesome in this big America without him, I really believe.
Poor Cousin Ned is standing behind a counter downtown, selling tacks and shingle nails.He had to give up his studies on account of his eyes—the one eye could not stand the strain.Unluckily about that time his father lost his money in some speculation, and there was nothing for it but poor Ned must go to work.
Another June.
I have been so happy, and life has been so satisfactory that I have not written in my diary for many months.I believe it is only when one's heart is so sorrowful and distracted that it must overflow somewhere, that one pours it into a diary.I have so much to say now that I scarcely know where to begin.
Well, to begin at the beginning, one night Uncle Theodore asked Doctor Graham to dinner, along with Professor Ballington, and another gentleman.After that Doctor Graham began to call quite frequently evenings—he seemed to enjoy grandmother's company so much, and I am sure she enjoyed his.
Well—Oh, I never can tell how it all came about, but I have promised to go to China with Dr. Graham, to help him learn the Chinese language. It is an awful language for a foreigner to learn, and I just could not bear the thought of the poor fellow having to wrestle with it alone.
It was one evening we were alone in the drawing-room, grandmother having been unable to appear owing to a headache, that we came to the final arrangement.
But suddenly I thought of something that was going to upset it all, I believed,—he didn't know who I was!
"Oh!"I cried, "I cannot go with you—you will not want me—you do not know—that—I—am the Yellow Peril!"
He smiled down at me, and raised my chin in the palm of his left hand—for he had not let me go from his right, although I had tried to get away—and said, "I expect to be very proud of my Yellow Pearl."
Now I am receiving congratulations which are making me feel very happy and proud, with the exception of Professor Ballington's.I cannot help feeling sorry for that poor old bachelor.He came up to me and said:
"My dear Miss Pearl, I had been vain enough to hope once that I might sometime call this pearl mine, but if I cannot do so, I do not know of any one that I would sooner see claim it than Doctor Graham.And so I say, God bless you!God bless you!You shall always have the love of an old bachelor.And in this world, obsessed with fever and noise, with the sham and superficial, may you always remain the genuine pearl you are."
There were tears in his voice.Why must every rose have a thorn?
We are going to China, Doctor Graham and I, my native land; the land of flashing poppy-blossoms, red azaleas, purple wistarias, blue larkspur, yellow jasmine, oleanders, begonias, and flowering bamboos—the Flowery Kingdom.Dr. Graham is going to establish a hospital, to set broken legs and bind up broken heads; and I am going to try and prevent any more of those little Chinese babies from being thrown out on the hillsides to die.
Grandmother says if we go to China it ought to be to tell the Confucionists and Buddhists about the great Christ.But I believe if He went there Himself He would be mending broken legs, binding up broken heads and hearts, and saving the little babies from being thrown out on the hillsides to die. Dear grandmother is a standing proof to me that the Christ means much more to the world than China's Confucius or Buddha. One day when she was seated in her rocking-chair I threw my arm around her and told her so. The dear old lady never seemed to accept my words as a personal compliment at all, but began, as once before, to sing in a low, quavering voice: