The Green God

I reached the house about four o'clock and found Muriel awaiting my return in the library. Her father, she told me, had gone off for a walk. We had a great deal to say to each other, and it took us till dinner to say it, but I have an idea that it would not interest the reader particularly. We had a lively party at dinner, and the Major got out some special vintage champagne to celebrate our engagement and drink to our future happiness. It was late before I turned in, and I did not, you may be sure, sleep in the green room. The next day, I set out for Torquay by rail, to explain to my mother my long delay in arriving, and to tell her about Muriel. With my departure from The Oaks the story of the emerald Buddha, and the memorable week it caused me, is ended, but the blessings that came to me through it I had only begun to appreciate. I have not become a Buddhist, yet I confess that I never see a statue of that deity but I bend my head before his benign and inscrutable face, and render up thanks for the great blessings he has showered upon me. It has now been three years since Muriel and I were married, and they have been three years of almost perfect happiness. We think of making a trip to China, some of these days, and, if we do, we have concluded to make a special pilgrimage to Ping Yang, and place upon the altar of Buddha the most beautiful bunch of flowers that money can buy, as a little offering and testimonial of our appreciation of what he has done for us.