"In self-defense, O Yuki San," Morris defended eagerly; "it was in
self-defense. But afterwards, what a time it was! Shall I ever forget
that night getting back to my ship?" He passed his hand over his face,
and then came back to his place beside her on the couch. "Don't speak
of it any more; I don't want to think of it."
Yuki slipped down to the floor and sat there with her head against his
knee. She sat very quietly, then finally put her hand up to the flower
in her dress and slowly took it out and let it fall to the floor,
petal by petal, watching the leaves as they fell. Then, after a long
silence, she rose and started towards the tea table, hesitated, went a
little way, and then came back to him. She knelt by the couch and
said, in a low voice:
"Morris, no matter what happens, what you learn, what the gods may
teach you soon--remember, I love you with all the love of my life.
That I would give that life for you--oh, so willingly, if I only
could! That through whatever you pass, I would gladly be with you; but
I will come to you soon. I will not send you where I may not follow. I
will come. I am yours, and the gods cannot let you go alone. You need
me, and I would not be afraid. I love you--I want to go with you--but
I am a Japanese--and I understand."
She let her face fall upon her hands and knelt there quietly. Morris
looked at her blankly, thinking she was worried about something.
Finally he lifted her face and kissed her.
"Never mind, dear one. I don't know what is troubling you, but of
course you shall go with me wherever I go. I need you, and could not
be without my Yuki San."
He started to read the papers; she rose and stood by the couch a
moment, then taking a step toward the tea-things:
"Would my Dana San--like--a cup of tea?"
Morris, absorbed in his papers, assented. "Why, yes, I don't mind if I
do."
She turned and walked slowly to the hibachi, knelt beside it, fanned
the fire a moment, then poured the water from the iron kettle into the
tiny teapot, let it stand a moment, looking over towards Morris. Then
she took the bottle from her sleeve and poured a few drops into the
cup, filling it with tea. She rose slowly and walked over to the long
chair. She looked down at him as he lay half-reclining, hesitated,
then handed him the cup. He took it, and looking up at her half
laughing, exclaimed:
"To you, sweetheart!" and drank.
He fell back on the chair; the cup dropped from his hands. Yuki looked
down at him in silence; then she bent over him, and lovingly crossed
his hands upon his breast, touched his face caressingly with her
fingers; then bent down and kissed him.
She turned slowly, and, in turning, her eyes fell upon the shrine. She
looked at it intently, slowly crossed the room and knelt in front of
it, bowed her head to the floor; then opened the doors, and bowed her
head again.
She took out two candlesticks, two little jars of incense, a small
bowl for rice, and another for water. She lighted the candles, lighted
the incense, poured water in one bowl and rice in the other. Then she
again touched her head to the floor, once--twice--thrice--rose, and
walked backward to the open shojii.
She stood a moment looking around the room that she had loved so well;
then turned her face to her lover lying so quietly in the chair. She
knelt down facing him, touched her head to the floor and rising in the
kneeling position, said, stretching out her arms towards Morris:
"Sayonara, my Dana San, good-bye, good-bye."