Page:Mr. Wu (IA mrwumilnlouisejo00milniala).pdf/81

 that I cannot hide." Then a new thought caught and frightened her, and she turned back to him anxiously. "If they guessed, would they take you from me?"

"Why, yes," he told her quickly, snatching at her idea; "they might—yes—yes—certainly they would."

"Oh, no, no! That would kill me." She shuddered as she spoke.

He went to her now, and standing behind her put his arms about her again. "Oh!" he said contritely, "you mustn't think so much of me, Nang Ping. You were happy before—before you met me"

"But I was only waiting for you to come," she said.

At that he kissed her. How could he help doing it?

"I was really only two moons old. I was only sleeping and waiting, like those lotus flowers, waiting for you to come and wake me. You are my summer and my sun."

"That's all very poetical, Nang Ping," he said, fondling at her elaborate and stiffened hair, "but you must not take all this too seriously, you know."

She broke away from him at that, speaking wistfully as she moved. "I do not understand you. You are the poem of my life and the song that sings in my heart!"

The man's face darkened with trouble. He was indeed troubled. But still he spoke kindly, and he went to her and caressed her lightly, soothingly, as he said, "Listen, Celeste."

"Ah!" the girl cried, "you gave me that name. That makes me yours. I am Nang Ping no more."

"Listen, Celeste"—at a change, a chilliness in his tone, she stiffened a little; it is so most women face a blow—"my people are going home—father, mother, my sister Hilda"