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There was peach blossom in the orchards of Kien-fi, a blue sky above, and in the air much gladness; but in Wu Chi's yamen gloom hung like the herald of a thunderstorm. At one end of a table in the ceremonial hall sat Wu Chi, heaviness upon his brow, deceit in his eyes, and a sour enmity about the lines of his mouth; at the other end stood his son Weng, and between them, as it were, his whole life lay.

Wu Chi was an official of some consequence and had two wives, as became him. His union with the first had failed in its essential purpose; therefore he had taken another to carry on the direct line which alone could secure him contentment in this world and a reputable existence in the next. This degree of happiness was supplied by Weng's mother, yet she must ever remain but a "secondary wife," with no rights and a very insecure position. In the heart of the chief wife smouldered a most bitter hatred, but the hour of her ascendancy came, for after many years she also bore her lord a son. Thenceforward she was secure in her authority; but Weng's mother remained, for she was very beautiful, and despite all the arts of the other woman, Wu Chi could not be prevailed upon to dismiss her. The easy solution of this difficulty was that she soon died—the "white powder death" was the shrewd comment of the inner chambers of Kien-fi.

Wu Chi put on no mourning, custom did not require it; and now that the woman had Passed Beyond