Gods Men by Pearl S. Buck Read Free Book Online

face to face.
    â€œI had better tell you the truth,” Dr. Lane decided. “I do not at all like the way things look. Something is seething in the countryside. The young Emperor is in difficulties again with the Old Empress and she has locked him up. The gossip is that she is determined to kill his tutors for encouraging his Western ideas. But she will have to do something to satisfy her ministers. They are outraged with the new foreign concessions she has been compelled to give the German government. If she should take it into her ignorant old head to exterminate all foreigners, I don’t want my family here.”
    He tried to speak humorously, but they saw that he was anxious. His quiet rather delicate face, always pale, now looked white above his clipped gray beard and mustache.
    â€œI’ve always said the Chinese hate us,” Mrs. Lane said.
    â€œI don’t believe they hate us,” he said mildly.
    â€œThey’ve killed those German missionaries,” she argued.
    He put down his soup spoon. “That was an accident, as I’ve told you, Helen. The bandits just happened to attack a town where the Germans were.”
    â€œEven bandits have no right to kill foreigners,” she retorted. No one paid any heed to Wang until she said almost violently, “Wang, take away the soup plates!”
    â€œI don’t think Wang hates us, Mother,” Ruth said when he had left the room. Her voice, soft and timid, was different from the other voices. Even Dr. Lane, accustomed to many years of preaching, spoke with an articulate clarity which was almost forceful.
    â€œThat’s because he gets paid,” Mrs. Lane replied.
    Dr. Lane felt obliged, for the sake of the children, to pursue truth. “If the Chinese feel antiforeign, it is the result of the way Germany has behaved. To seize ports and demand the use of the whole bay, besides all that indemnity, just made an excuse for the murder of the missionaries. Then Russia, then England, then even our own government—all this is at the bottom of these so-called antiforeign outbreaks. Naturally the Chinese don’t want to see their country sliced away.”
    Mrs. Lane interrupted. “Oh, of course, Henry, you always think the Chinese are right!” She went on, repressing his attempted reply. “If there is any danger, I want to go away at once. But I won’t go without you. I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself for these people. Your first duty is to the children and to me.”
    â€œI don’t think I can go,” he replied. “I don’t think I ought to go. The Chinese Christians will expect me to stay. The Boxers will be against them as well as us, if things break loose. Of course the Legation soldiers will protect us, but I don’t want you and the children to face a siege, if it comes to that. But it would not look well for me to run. It would not be possible for my conscience. My duty to God comes first.”
    The children fell into silence. By the patient firmness with which their father spoke they understood that he was determined to go through an argument with their mother. Usually she won, but when their father brought God into the conversation this early, they guessed the end. Alone he might lose, but under that divine leadership, he would prevail even against her.
    Yet only a few days later Mrs. Lane was ready to go and at once. It was Saturday and Dr. Lane was working on his usual Sunday sermon. He had chosen a text strangely inept for the times. “The wicked flee when no man pursueth,” and he was weaving his thoughts, divinely directed, about the profound meaning hidden in these words, when he heard Mrs. Lane’s voice crying aloud his name. Almost immediately the door of his study opened, and he saw William. The boy’s garments were covered with dust, his face was ashen and there was a cut on his forehead. He stood there speechless.
    Dr. Lane cried out, rising from