Abnormal Psychology An Integrative Approach Fifth

Edition David H. Barlow - PDF Download (2025)

https://ebookultra.com/download/abnormal-psychology-an-
integrative-approach-fifth-edition-david-h-barlow/

Visit ebookultra.com today to download the complete set of

ebooks or textbooks
We have selected some products that you may be interested in
Click the link to download now or visit ebookultra.com
for more options!.

Abnormal Psychology An Integrative Approach 7th Edition

David H. Barlow

https://ebookultra.com/download/abnormal-psychology-an-integrative-
approach-7th-edition-david-h-barlow/

Clinical Handbook of Psychological Disorders Fourth

Edition David H. Barlow

https://ebookultra.com/download/clinical-handbook-of-psychological-
disorders-fourth-edition-david-h-barlow/

EMDR as an Integrative Psychotherapy Approach Francine

Shapiro

https://ebookultra.com/download/emdr-as-an-integrative-psychotherapy-
approach-francine-shapiro/

Abnormal Psychology 5th Edition Gerald C. Davison

https://ebookultra.com/download/abnormal-psychology-5th-edition-
gerald-c-davison/
Abnormal Psychology 3rd Edition Deborah C. Beidel

https://ebookultra.com/download/abnormal-psychology-3rd-edition-
deborah-c-beidel/

Soil and water chemistry an integrative approach Second

Edition Essington

https://ebookultra.com/download/soil-and-water-chemistry-an-
integrative-approach-second-edition-essington/

Abnormal and Clinical Psychology 2nd Edition Paul Bennett

https://ebookultra.com/download/abnormal-and-clinical-psychology-2nd-
edition-paul-bennett/

Psychological Criminology An Integrative Approach Crime

Science 1st Edition Richard Wortley

https://ebookultra.com/download/psychological-criminology-an-
integrative-approach-crime-science-1st-edition-richard-wortley/

Cognitive Rehabilitation An Integrative Neuropsychological

Approach Second Edition Mckay Moore Sohlberg

https://ebookultra.com/download/cognitive-rehabilitation-an-
integrative-neuropsychological-approach-second-edition-mckay-moore-
sohlberg/
Abnormal Psychology An Integrative Approach Fifth
Edition David H. Barlow Digital Instant Download
Author(s): David H. Barlow, V. Mark Durand
ISBN(s): 9780495095569, 0495095567
Edition: 5
File Details: PDF, 35.82 MB
Year: 2008
Language: english
Other documents randomly have
different content
 He shook his head.
“No—you already have learned them well, have you not?”
“Yes. You like hear me say them, mebbe?”
“Not to-day. I wish to speak to you about another matter.”
She looked at him apprehensively.
“Oh,” she said, “mebbe your august God tell you I also visit at the
temple that other day?”
He looked a trifle startled.
“What temple—what do you mean?”
“You God sees all things?”
“All things,” he said solemnly.
Her eyes expressed momentary fright. She drew her hands
forcibly from his and sat backward a little way from him, her head
bent.
“Then,” she said, “you already know about—about my—my lie?”
“Lie?”
He leaned forward in his chair.
“Yaes—yaes—your God told you.”
“Tell me what you mean.”
The face she raised was pitiful.
“Excellency, that was velly wicked lie I tell you wen I say I am
convert unto you.”
He stared at her blankly. She could not bear the expression on his
face and pushed herself nearer to him on her knees. Her hands
fluttered above and then timidly touched his.
 “Excellency, I sawry—sawry—” There was a sob in her voice now,
and her eyes were misty. “Pray you be like unto the gods and forgive
that lie.”
He stood up mechanically, then sat down again, turning in his seat
toward the desk and resting his clasped hands there. She, from her
kneeling posture, reached up to touch his arm.
“Pray—” she began and broke off, as though she could not finish.
He turned his head and looked at her curiously. Still he did not
speak.
“Listen,” she continued in her low, almost sighing, voice, which he
no longer wished to hear. “I tell you only one lie—one liddle bit lie.
Thas not velly much. Also I beseech the gods to pardon that lie—and
I beseech also your mos’ kind God pardon me.” She broke off
distressfully—“Excellency, will you not hear me?”
“I am listening,” he said heavily.
“Your voice so hard,” she said.
His eyes were still stern. He spoke mechanically.
“I was going to say something—something personal to you to-day.
You have shocked me. That is all. But I want to hear what you have
to say. There may be extenuating—well, tell me how it came about
that you pretended conversion.”
“I wanted moaney,” she said.
She saw his hands clinch and shrank before the look upon his
face. She shook her head uncertainly.
“For money!” he repeated.
“Yaes, I needed some velly much. Gonji say you pay big moaney
to convert, and so—and so—I became convert.”
 The minister closed his eyes, then covered them spasmodically
with his hand. Sitting back in his seat he remained with his face thus
half shielded while she spoke on.
“But,” she said, “you din not give me moaney; no, not even one
half sen.” She laughed a little, almost joyously.
“Ah, I am so glad you din nod give,” she said. “I doan want that
moaney. After that first day my honorable step-mother doan be
unkind no more. Also she give me plenty to eat, an’ new dress, also
Matsuda Isami ask me marry wis him evelly day in those weeks.”
The minister uncovered his eyes and looked at her. The expression
of his face must have been less forbidding, for she moved
confidently nearer to him.
“What do you think now?” she asked.
His voice was husky.
“You spoke of marrying some one.”
She shook her head.
“No. Some one want marry wiz me. I doan desire. But sinz he
want, my honorable mother-in-law is mos’ kind unto me, and I doan
starve no more. Therefore I doan wan no moaney—be convert now.”
“Ah, why do you keep up the pretense, then?”
“Pretense?” She could not understand the word, as her English
vocabulary was limited to words acquired from the minister’s
predecessor, a woman missionary.
“Why do you still pretend to be a Christian? Why do you continue
to come here if it is no longer necessary for you to obtain money?”
“Because,” said Azalea, smiling up at him, “I want do so. Also, I
kinnod stay away. My august feet bringing me back all those times.”
 He sighed. Her face with its quickly changing expressions became
wistful.
“Excellency, I am glad thad honorable God telling you thad about
those moaneys. Perhaps he also tell you that I want be convert an’
doan’ want no moaney.”
He wavered toward her a moment, and then turned his eyes from
her. He had been beguiled too long.
“Mebbe your God doan’ desire me?—mebbe,” she said.
He did not answer. To recall him to her she touched his knee. His
voice was hoarse.
“Salvation is free to all,” he said dully.
She laughed almost joyfully.
“I make nudder confession,” she said eagerly. “Sometimes I ’fraid
of your God. The priest tell me he is evil spirit and I getting skeered.
Well, wen I come unto your house I know that your God gitting hold
of my heart, for it beating so hard, I doan know wha’s matter wis
me. I doan know whether I lidder bit skeered of your honorable God,
or—or—of you augustness. So that other day wen you take my hand
this away.” She tried to illustrate, but found him unresponsive. Her
voice toiled forlornly. “I so ’fraid of tha’s influence of your God. I run
so quick from your house I kinnod see, and then I came to thad
temple and prostrate myself before Kwannon and beseech her save
me from all those powers of evil spirit. Then I go home, and I know
I jusd silly, foolish girl. Thad God you tell me ’bout is not evil spirit.
No—no! You say nod, an’ I jus’ foolish, skeered, because, mebbe jus’
because I am thad happy.”
“Happy! Why were you happy?”
He could not resist the expression of her eyes and almost
unconsciously allowed her hands to slip back into his.
 “Because you so kind unto me,” she said; “you touching my hand
this way—so warm—so nize! Tha’s why I coon nod speag. Tha’s stop
my heart.”
“I love you!” he said, the words escaping his lips almost without
his volition. “I cannot help it. That was what I wanted to say to you
to-day.”
She clung to his hands. Her lips parted. The color was wild in her
face.
“Oh,” she said, “you love me! Tha’s a most beautifulest thought,
Excellency. Mebbe also your God love me—jus’ me—also?”
He drew her into his arms and held her there a moment. He forgot
everything else as he kissed her willing, questioning face and little
hands. Then after an interval:
“What does it matter—what does anything matter now?” he said.
“I love you. I know that you love me. Your eyes do not lie.”
When he released her, her hands fell limply on his knees.
“No one,” she said breathlessly, her eyes shining, “aever clasping
me like thad.”
He laughed as joyously as she could. With his arm about her, as
she knelt before him, he showed her the sheet of paper covered
with his writing of her name.
“That,” he said, almost boyishly, “is how the Rev. Richard Verley
wrote his sermon to-day—‘Azalea, Azalea, Azalea, Azalea—nothing
but Azalea.’”
“Tha’s me! I am Azalea!” she said. “Oh, tha’s so nize be your
convert.”
He laughed, then sighed.
 “You will be that in time, I promise,” he said, “and meanwhile,
well, meanwhile, we will be married.”
She looked up at him with frightened eyes.
“Married! You also marry me?” she asked.
“Why, yes, of course. We will make a little trip to a town where
there’s another minister, or possibly I can have the ceremony here.”
“Oh! Pray you doan make other converts. Please doan.”
“Why?”
“Because perhaps you also marry them—yaes?”
He laughed again and kissed the tip of her little pointed chin.
There was a bewitching dimple in it, and he had always desired to
kiss it.
 “‘This is the American way,’ he said, boyishly, and stooping, kissed her.”
(Page 90)

“When you are my wife, you will, in time, become my helper. You,
too, will make converts.”
“You gotter git consent my honorable mother-in-law,” she
interrupted.
His face fell.
“Also,” she said, “I gotter git those marriage garments, and you
must buy me lots presents.”
“No, I’ll marry you in the gown you have on.”
“This!” She touched it in dismay. “Why thad would be disgrace
upon me.”
“Very well, you shall be disgraced then. Now come—we’ll go to
your step-mother right away. There’s no time to be lost.”
She hesitated as they reached the door.
“Wait,” she said. He paused with the sliding door half open.
“You bedder not come also. Let me speag to her alone. Tha’s
bedder. If she doan consent, then I skeer her and say I marry wiz
Matsuda. She doan wish that. She desire him for Yuri.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Ah-bah!” (Good-bye!) she said, passing through the opening. He
drew her back.
“Is that the way to say ‘good-bye’?” he asked reproachfully.
She was puzzled.
 “This is the American way,” he said boyishly, and stooping, kissed
her.
 CHAPTER VI

She ran all the way home. She wanted her step-mother’s consent as
quickly as possible, so that she might hasten back to the minister.
Her breathless words astounded Madame Yamada.
“That barbarous, beautiful priest wishes to marry me,” she
announced in one breath.
Madame Yamada’s lips fell apart.
“What do you mean?” she inquired roughly.
“That’s right—right!” cried the girl, clasping her hands excitedly.
“Oh, I am the happiest girl in all Japan!”
Her step-mother extended a long finger and struck it at the girl’s
breast.
“What! The foreign devil wants to marry you?”
Madame Yamada was excited, agitated, above all delighted. The
gods were favoring her. Here was a solution to all their difficulties.
“Breathe not a word to anyone of this, my daughter,” she said,
“but hasten back with the speed of wings to the house of the
barbarian. Bring him here, and we will go at once to the next town
and have a private ceremony there. The Nakoda Okido must not
suspect.”
Azalea swung her sleeves coquettishly.
 “Oh,” she said airily, “we will not make Japanese marriage, step-
mother.” She clasped her hands behind her and raised her head with
childish dignity and pride.
“I am to be an American lady. Therefore we will marry in American
fashion.”
“How is that?” asked Madame Yamada, mystified.
“Oh, you don’t understand,” said Azalea pityingly, “but I do. He
told me once how they marry. Just pray, bend head like this, and
knees like this, hold hands tight—so, mother-in-law; and then the
priest prays on top of the heads and the bride is given a ring—big
and shining—very fine. That’s the way they marry.”
“They do not exchange the marriage cup?” questioned her mother,
horrified.
“No—there are no marriage cups. Also to marry that foreign way, I
have got to be Kirishitan.”
“Ah-h! I see. You will turn convert?”
“I am already. I wish already to be so,” said the girl simply.
An idea flashed swiftly across the mind of Madame Yamada—a
brilliant idea.
“Good!” she said. “It is well for a maiden to be of the same
religion as the man she marries. But do not let it be known till the
ceremony is over. Then throw away your ancestral tablets. You will
have no further use for them.”
Azalea paled a trifle. She was not ignorant of the effect of such an
action. One who renounces the tablets of his ancestor she knew is in
popular opinion forever lowered. One might attend the church
meetings of the Kirishitans, one might even affiliate with the
foreigners; but it is only when one has openly declared oneself for
the new religion and, in defiance of the old, destroyed the sacred
symbols, the ancestral tablets, that one becomes an outcast. Yet it
was necessary, surely. It was not possible without hypocrisy to
acknowledge the new God, and still in secret cherish the tablets of
the old.
Well, what were the tablets to her now?
Her husband’s love, the new God’s strength, would stand between
her and shield her from her enemies. Azalea smiled bravely at her
step-mother.
“Yes,” she said, “if my honorable husband requires it, I will throw
away the tablets.”
They were married in the little mission church on the hill. An old
and venerable missionary officiated.
The church was quite crowded, for Madame Yamada had spread
the news about the town, in anticipation of its effect upon the
community. She herself wept unceasingly throughout the ceremony,
never once uncovering her shamed face buried in the sleeve of her
kimona. Truly, thought her neighbors, the good Madame Yamada
was distressed by this action of her step-daughter.
 “She threw the tablets in the direction of the little river in the valley below.”
(Page 98)

When, after it was all over, Azalea’s friends turned their heads
from her or looked askance at her, the girl simply lifted her eyes to
her husband. The look of wistful apprehension that a moment before
had clouded them vanished. Her face became radiant. She clung to
his sleeve like a child, proudly, gaily. But when, after proceeding a
few steps in the direction of her new home, she realized that they
were being followed, a feeling of recklessness and defiance assailed
her. She stopped suddenly and dipped her hand down into the long
sleeve of her marriage gown. She hardly looked at what she had
drawn out, but raising her hand suddenly she threw the tablets in
the direction of the little river in the valley below. The noise of their
fall upon the rocks frightened her. She covered her ears with her
hands and stood trembling in the sunny light. Then she became
conscious of the fact that those who had followed her had suddenly,
and it seemed, silently, disappeared. She stood alone with the man,
her husband. For a moment he seemed a stranger. That momentary
blind impulse, she knew, cut her off forever from her kind. Publicly
she had insulted her ancestors. She had chosen between them and
this tall white stranger whom she scarcely dared to look at now. The
silent departure of those who had followed her told more eloquently
than any outcry could have done the resentment of her people.
Azalea looked about her dazedly. Suppose, after all, her friends
spoke truly? Suppose this new God was in reality an evil spirit? Had
she not felt its subtle influence upon her? When in memory could
she recall the time that her whole being had thrilled and glowed with
emotions and feelings so strange and new to her? Was it not the
influence of this spirit which had forced her to throw away the
tablets—had forced her to marry one of its priests?
 Her husband stood looking at her tenderly, yearningly. He was
thinking of her future, and of the trusting soul that had come to his
keeping.
“Well, they are all gone now,” he said, “and what was that you
threw away?”
She shook her head piteously. He waited for her answer, and
marvelled that she, who had gone through the marriage ceremony in
such a brave and happy spirit, was now so white and trembling.
Surely, she had not begun to fear him? Poor little frightened bride!
“I din nod mean to throw it away,” she said brokenly. “I coon nod
help me.”
“Oh, you are trembling about what you threw away? Well, let me
go after it. Such a little mite of a hand cannot fling very far.”
“No, no,” she said, catching at his sleeve, “do not touch it. The
gods may punish you also.”
He enclosed her hands in his, and looked at her very seriously.
“You must not talk of ‘the gods,’ my wife. It sounds pagan, and I
am going to cure you of the habit.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, and now she was almost sobbing; “pray you
do so, ple-ase. I am most ignorant girl in all the whole worl’. I like
know about those gods. Pray tell me truth, will you not?”
He could not understand the meaning of her beseeching voice.
How could he suppose that she still dreaded the thought that he was
a priest of a possible evil spirit? She wanted to be reassured. He only
saw that she was very white and trembling, now that the ceremony
was over, and he dimly realized that in marrying him she had
sacrificed much.
“When you look and speak like that,” he said, “I feel as if I had
done some brutal act. Come, be my happy, joyful sweet-heart again.
Why, marriage is not a tragedy; not when there is love. Now, let us
look about us just a moment, and then we will go home—to our own
home together. Just see how sunny and beautiful everything is here.
Was ever a sky more lovely? And the fields! What color can we call
them?”
His arm was about her and she had recovered somewhat of her
confidence.
“It is a purple world,” she said, “all purple and green to-day,
Excellency.”
“Why, yes, it does seem so,” he said. “The skies are more purple
than blue, and their very reflection seems to rest upon the fields to-
day. Just look down there in the valley.”
“It is the purple iris and wistaria,” she said. “I so love them. Do
they grow like that in America?”
“No, unfortunately.”
“And are not the skies purple there?” she asked.
“No-o. That is, not often.”
“Oh,” she said, with a sudden, unexpected vehemence, “I never
want to go to that America. I love these fields so purple and so
green—and those skies! Excellency, you will not take me away, will
you?”
He was touched to the heart of him.
“No, no,” he said. “I will not. I will not.”
 CHAPTER VII

Azalea had been married during a brief absence of Matsuda Isami in

Tokyo. He had gone there especially at Madame Yamada’s
suggestion, to purchase city gifts with which to help him in his suit.
The townspeople had never been on sufficiently familiar terms with
Matsuda to talk with him even upon his return from an absence.
Hence he learned nothing of the marriage until Madame Yamada
herself broke the news to him. She appeared to be suffering from
intense mortification and anguish of mind because of what she
termed the unnatural defiance of her step-daughter, who had
married a barbarian beast against all the wishes of her people. As if
this shame were not sufficient, she had turned Kirishitan and
destroyed the tablets of her ancestors. Madame Yamada declared
vehemently that though she, from motives of pity, must sometimes
see the abandoned girl, yet she never would allow her pure and
virtuous daughters to be contaminated with her society.
The woman had not foreseen the real effects of such news upon
Matsuda. For a moment he stood as if turned to stone. Then his long
white teeth gleamed out between his thick, coarse lips like the tusks
of a savage animal. In his eyes there was unchained rage. Suddenly
he laughed hideously. That laughter alone would have unstrung the
nerves of one less cowardly than Madame Yamada. She prostrated
herself to the very ground and touched his feet with her head.
“Most Exalted,” she said, “the humble one craves your august
pardon and abjectly beseeches you to perceive her distress. That
this wretched girl has abandoned you for a vile and horrible
barbarian is not the fault of the humblest one, who sought with all
her power to bring about her union with you.”
There was an odd quality in the responding voice of Matsuda.
“Who spoke of fault?” said he. “Has my mouth uttered blame upon
you, Madame Yamada?”
Her courage returned and she arose.
“I should have known,” she said, “that Your Excellency is too noble
to have blamed the unfortunate. And now that you have deigned to
pardon me, will you not permit my daughters to wait upon you?”
The gray face of Matsuda had resumed its impassive expression,
but his eyes were almost closed. He refused Madame Yamada’s
invitation with a gesture and without words. When she did not
attempt to press him, he moved toward the door.
“What was the effect of this marriage upon the community?” he
asked, turning to the woman.
“They were righteously insulted, and pity me.”
“Was there any demonstration when she threw away the tablets?”
“Yes. Her friends and neighbors turned from her as if she were
evil, as she has truly become.”
“She is, then, forsaken?”
“Punished, Excellency. She believes herself happy at present, but
who envies the lot of an outcast? She is entirely friendless.”
Matsuda’s eyes turned inward, as for a space he meditated.
“Not friendless entirely,” he said, finally, tapping his own chest
significantly. “She still has Matsuda Isami for friend.”
“You!” repeated Madame Yamada faintly.
 “I.”
“But,” she gasped, “she has deceived you more than anyone else.
Exalted Matsuda, she has forced you to break the oath you made to
possess her. She is married forever to the foreign devil.”
“It is news,” said Matsuda coldly, “that the foreign devils marry
Japanese girls forever.” He went a step nearer to the woman and
brought his eyes on a level with hers. “She is not married to him,
Madame Yamada. He will leave her soon—remember my words.
After that—there is time then for the fulfilment of my oath.”
Madame Yamada, left alone, grew repulsive in aspect. Her
powdered face was white and long drawn. She had thrust her hands
mechanically through her hair and it stood up from her head in stiff
disorder. In the hope of securing Matsuda for her own daughter she
had herself assisted in putting the girl she hated beyond her reach.
Now she realized how utterly vain was this last hope. Her very action
but brought upon her head the implacable enmity of the man
himself, who she knew was not deceived in her. The gods alone
knew to what extent he would carry his malicious vengeance upon
her.
Welcome to our website – the ideal destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. With a mission to inspire endlessly, we offer a
vast collection of books, ranging from classic literary works to
specialized publications, self-development books, and children's
literature. Each book is a new journey of discovery, expanding
knowledge and enriching the soul of the reade

Our website is not just a platform for buying books, but a bridge
connecting readers to the timeless values of culture and wisdom. With
an elegant, user-friendly interface and an intelligent search system,
we are committed to providing a quick and convenient shopping
experience. Additionally, our special promotions and home delivery
services ensure that you save time and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Let us accompany you on the journey of exploring knowledge and

personal growth!

ebookultra.com