“The willow-leaves will bud soon,” answered Dong-Yung, glancing over her shoulder at the tapering, yellowing twigs of the ancient tree.

“And the beech-blossoms,” continued Foh-Kyung. “’The earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof.’”

“The foreign devil’s wisdom,” answered Dong-Yung.

“It is greater than ours, Dong-Yung; greater and lovelier.  To-day, to-day, I will go to their hall of ceremonial worship and say to their holy priest that I think and believe the Jesus way.”

“Oh, most-beloved Master, is it also permitted to women, to a small wife, to believe the Jesus way?”

“I will believe for thee, too, little Lotus Flower in the Pond.”

“Tell me, O Teacher of Knowledge—­tell me that in my heart and in my mind I may follow a little way whither thou goest in thy heart and in thy mind!”

Foh-Kyung moved out of the shadow of the ancestral hall and stood in the warm sunlight beside Dong-Yung, his small wife.  His hands were still withheld and hidden, clasping his wrists within the wide, loose apricot sleeves of his gown, but his eyes looked as if they touched her.  Dong-Yung hid her happiness even as the flowers hide theirs, within silent, incurving petals.

“The water is cold as the chill of death.  Go, bring me hot water—­water hot enough to scald an egg.”

Foh-Kyung and Dong-Yung turned to the casement in the upper right-hand wing and listened apprehensively.  The quick chatter of angry voices rushed out into the sunlight.

“The honourable great wife is very cross this morning.”  Dong-Yung shivered and turned back to the lilies.  “To-day perhaps she will beat me again.  Would that at least I had borne my lord a young prince for a son; then perhaps—­”

“Go not near her, little Jewel.  Stay in thine own rooms.  Nay, I have sons a-plenty.  Do not regret the childlessness.  I would not have your body go down one foot into the grave for a child.  I love thee for thyself.

“Now my lord speaks truly, as do the foreign devils to the shameless, open-faced women.  I like the ways of the outside kingdom well.  Tell me more of them, my Master.”

Foh-Kyung moved his hands as if he would have withdrawn them from his apricot-coloured sleeves.  Dong-Yung saw the withheld motion, and swayed nearer.  For a moment Dong-Yung saw the look in his eyes that engulfed her in happiness; then it was gone, and he looked away past her, across the opening lily-buds and the black rampart of the wall, at something distant, yet precious.  Foh-Kyung moved closer.  His face changed.  His eyes held that hidden rapture that only Dong-Yung and the foreign-born priest had seen.

“Little Jewel, wilt thou go with me to the priest of the foreign-born faith?  Come!” He withdrew his hand from his sleeve and touched Dong-Yung on the shoulder.  “Come, we will go hand in hand, thou and I, even as the men and women of the Jesus thinking; not as Chinese, I before, and thou six paces behind.  Their God loves men and women alike.”