China Edward Rutherfurd (essential reading .txt) 📖

children. I will work to convert them into better Christians; but you certainly shouldn’t give them any guns.”

“I thought missionaries were supposed to be more idealistic,” Trader said with a smile.

“They may be idealistic until they get into the field. Then they see real life, and it’s not pretty.”

“They carry on, though.”

“That’s the test of faith.”

“You’re a good man, Cousin Cecil,” said Trader warmly. “I admire you. And when I get back to London I shall repeat what you say. I just hope,” he continued quietly, “that they listen.”

—

When their meal was over, the two men walked Minnie Ross back to the house where she was governess. “A few more days, and you will not have to do this anymore,” she remarked to him with a smile as he kissed her on the cheek at the door. Then the two men made their way slowly towards Trader’s lodgings.

“Tell me,” Whiteparish ventured, “are you keeping a third share of the business for your son to manage one day?”

“One of them, perhaps. If either of them is interested.” Trader smiled. “That’s a long way off. I just like to keep my hand in. I’m far too young to retire, even though I can afford to.”

“You’ll keep yourself busy in Scotland. I’m sure you’ll be a model landlord.” Cecil paused. “I thought that perhaps the next generation…”

“Would prefer to avoid the dirty old opium trade. You can say it.” Trader walked on a few steps. “In ten, fifteen years’ time, the opium trade may not even be important. It’s ironic, but I suspect that if China became less defensive and opened her ports up to more general trade—in other words, if we could sell her more—the problem would disappear. The country is so huge and potentially rich. I’m not alone in thinking this. The men at Jardine Matheson, whose operations dwarf the rest of us, anticipate a far more general trade in the future.”

“I hope you’re right.”

They came in sight of Trader’s lodgings.

“There is one thing I’d like to ask you,” Trader said. “It’s a private matter.”

“Then it will remain so.”

“Thank you.” Trader nodded slowly. “It concerns Agnes. She has always shown a proper respect for the church. But in recent years her religion has become…”—he hesitated—“more intense. Had you ever noticed?”

“That’s rather hard to say. She’s been very good to the mission, of course.”

“Has she ever discussed matters of faith with you?”

“Now and then, as far as I recall.”

“Has she ever discussed the question of marriage and children?”

“Let me see.” Cecil thought a moment. “I think I remember one conversation. This was quite a long time ago, you know. We spoke about it in a general way.”

“Did she discuss Saint Paul or Saint Augustine, might I ask?”

Whiteparish took another moment to consider. “I believe,” he answered slowly, “she asked me about Saint Paul and marriage. The saint was celibate himself, of course, which was unusual amongst the Jews. Along with his strictures against lust, he recommended celibacy—if it could be managed. One has to remember that in those early days, the Christian community expected the world to end within their lifetime.”

“And after Paul?”

“You really come to Saint Augustine, over three centuries later. People still awaited the end of the world, but its date was unclear. Augustine thought that devout Christians could marry, but that the act of procreation should be for the purpose of having children. Otherwise, he argued, it became lust and was therefore sinful. That was generally the doctrine of the early church.”

“Have your children. Then abstain.”

“Yes.” The missionary smiled. “I’m not saying it was adhered to.”

“And nowadays?”

“The marriage service, as you know, speaks only of regulating the natural affections. Not many clergymen would want to go further than that.”

“You told this to my wife?”

“Yes. As doctrinal history.”

“You did not…recommend?”

“Oh.” Cecil stared at his cousin in surprise. “No, I did not. I would not.” He frowned, then gave his kinsman a curious look. “I should be happy to write to your wife to clarify the subject, if you wish.”

“No. I just wondered. Don’t write. Goodnight.” After all, Trader thought, if celibacy was what his wife desired, he had no wish to make demands that were repugnant to her.

◦

The first time Shi-Rong saw Mei-Ling was in the autumn of that year. As magistrate for the area, he was making a tour of inspection when he came to the hamlet where she lived. The villagers had seen his cavalcade approaching and they were clustered in the lane to watch him pass. The headman had welcomed him and offered refreshment, but it was only midmorning and there was no reason to stop, so Shi-Rong thanked him but proceeded on his way.

He caught sight of Mei-Ling just as he was leaving. She was standing beside the lane with a thickset friendly-looking peasant—her husband, perhaps—and three or four others. Peasants, certainly. None of the women had bound feet. But they appeared a little better dressed than most villagers.

He turned to his secretary, Sun, who was riding beside him. “Did you notice that pretty woman? Rich peasant, would you say?”

“Yes, Lord.” Sun had been with him five years now. He still didn’t know Sun’s age, exactly. Maybe he was forty-five. It didn’t matter. Tall, almost cadaverous, silent, trustworthy Sun had no ambition. His presence was restful. “One of the headman’s family, perhaps.”

“Did you notice her complexion?”

Whether one was in a great city or the depths of the country, nearly everyone had some physical flaw. Most adults past a certain age had missing teeth, of course. They might have a squint, a mole on their face, a damaged arm or leg. Accidents and disease were the common lot of the people in every land, he imagined. Yet so far as he could see, this peasant woman was perfect in every way. Beautiful. Flawless. He almost stopped the cavalcade. He wanted to linger. At the least, he wished to ascertain if she was truly as perfect as she seemed.

“We have business to attend to elsewhere, Lord,”