"ME? I LIG' YOU."
For a moment Sinclair was at a loss what to say to Numè, and as she had
not spoken he did not know whether she understood the English language
or must be addressed in Japanese.
"Will you not let me get you a seat somewhere where there is not such a
crowd?" he asked, speaking in English.
"Ess," she answered, looking almost helplessly at him, as Mrs. Davis
came towards them with a fresh company of Americans, all eager to meet
her. Numè belonged to the Kazoku order of Japanese (the nobles), the
most exclusive class in Japan. They lived, as a rule, in the Province of
Kyushu, and their women were supposed to be extremely beautiful, and
kept in great seclusion, as the daughters of nobles usually are. Numè's
father, however, had gone into business in Tokyo, and later had become a
large land-owner there, so that the girl had mingled very little with
her own class.
"I am going to take Miss Watanabe somewhere where she can breathe,"
Sinclair said to Mrs. Davis, and added: "Don't bring any more along just
now. I judge by her face she is scared to death already."
The girl looked gratefully at him. "Ess, I nod lig' big crowd _joyful_
ladies and gentlemen," she said, haltingly.
He found a couple of seats close by a window, where a soft breeze came
through, and fanned her flushed little face. In spite of what Mrs. Davis
had told her of Sinclair's not liking Japanese girls, with the usual
confidence of a little woman in a tall man, Numè felt protected from the
curious crowd when with him. She told him so with a shy artlessness that
astonished him.
"Me? I lig' you," she said, shyly. "You are _big_--and thad you nod lig'
poor liddle Japanese womans--still I lig' you jus' same."
"I like some of them," he said, lamely, confounded by the girl's direct
words. "You see, I have not met any Japanese _ladies_, and the Japanese
girls I have met always struck me as being--well, er--too gay to have
much heart."
Numè shook her head. "Japanese girl have big, big heart," she said,
making a motion with her hands. "Japanese boy go long way from home--see
all the big world; bud liddle Japanese girl stay at home with fadder and
mudder, an' vaery, vaery good, _bud_ parents luf _always_ the boy.
Sometimes Japanese girl is _vaery_ sad. Then account she stay at home
_too_ much, but she not show that she is vaery sad. She laugh and talk
so thad the parents do nod see she is vaery sad."
Sinclair did not interrupt her. Her odd way of telling anything was so
pretty and her speech so broken that he liked better to hear her talk.
But the girl stopped short here, and looked quite embarrassed a moment.
Then she said:
"Numè talk too much, perhaps?" Her voice was raised questioningly.
"No--no--Miss Numè cannot talk too much."
"Oa," the girl continued, smiling saucily, "Americazan girl talk too
much also?"
"Sometimes."
"That you do not lig' liddle Japanese girl--do you lig' Americazan big
proud girl?"
"No"--smiling. "Do you like the big proud American girl, Miss Numè?"
"Ess," she answered, half doubtingly. "Americazan lady is _vaery_
pretty. Sometimes she has _great big heart--then_ she change, and she is
liddle, liddle heart--_vaery_ mean woman."
"What makes you say that?"
"Oh! Numè watch everything," the girl answered, shrewdly.
Sinclair stayed by Numè's side almost the entire evening. She did not
know how to dance; he did not care to; and as she told him quite
candidly that she liked him to sit with her better than any one else in
the room, he needed no further excuse. The girl's beauty and naivete
captivated him, and in spite of her artlessness there were so many
genuine touches of shrewdness and cleverness about her. Sinclair was
converted into the belief that Japanese women were the most charming
women he had met--at least, if the ladies were all as sweet and pretty
as Numè.
During the evening Cleo Ballard paused in a dance, close by them. She
had noticed the attention Sinclair had paid the girl from the beginning.
He did not see her at first, but was looking with almost fascinated eyes
into the strangely interesting face of the Japanese maiden. Sinclair had
not once danced with Cleo through the entire evening, nor had he been by
her side even. He had told her he did not like dancing, and on this plea
had left her to the throngs of admirers who surrounded her, eager for a
dance. There was a look of bitter pride on Cleo's face as she looked at
him. In America Sinclair had always made it a point to attach himself
almost scrupulously to her, and although she had always felt something
lacking in his love for her, it pleased her that at least he had never
given her cause to be jealous of any other women. Her voice sounded
harsh even to her own ears.
"Perhaps, Arthur, you will introduce me--to----to your friend?" she
said.
The same pique that always irritated him so was in her voice now. It
was, he told himself, the reminder to him of his bondage; for long ere
this the man had admitted to himself that he did not love her. He was
too staunch by nature, however, knowing her love for him, to break with
her. He rose stiffly from his seat beside Numè, his face rather flushed.
"Certainly," he said, coldly, and pronounced the two girls' names.
Instinctively the woman nature in Numè scented a rival--possibly an
enemy. She wished the American gentleman would sit down again. She
could not understand why he should stand just because the beautiful
shining American lady had wanted to know her. The American girl's
partner tapped her lightly on the shoulder, reminding her of the dance,
and once more she glided away, leaving a vague unrest behind.
"Is the beautiful Americazan lady your betrothed?"
The man started, though he evaded the question.
"What makes you ask that?"
"All of us have betrothed," the girl said, vaguely. "See, I will show
you _my_ betrothed. He stands over there now--talking to the same pretty
Americazan lady."
"Takashima!" said Sinclair.
"Ess," the girl answered, happily.
Takashima was talking very seriously to Cleo Ballard. There was an
impatient, almost pettish, look on her face. She seemed anxious to get
away from him. Sinclair saw her make a motion to Mrs. Davis, and in some
way the two women managed to get rid of the Japanese. They stood talking
for a moment together, and Sinclair saw them look over in his direction.
He noted Cleo's movements almost mechanically, his mind being more
absorbed in what Numè had told him about her betrothal to Takashima.
"When does the wedding take place?" he asked, abruptly.
"Oh! I not know. _We_--Orito and _me_--do _not_ like much to hurry, the
fadders make great haste," she said.
Sinclair looked down at her thoughtfully, studying her with a strange
pang at his heart.
"So you are Takashima's little sweetheart," he said, slowly. "He used to
tell us about you in America. He said you were the prettiest thing on
earth, and the boys didn't believe him, of course, but, after all--he
spoke only the truth."
Again the girl smiled.
"When I was liddle, liddle girl," she said, "Orito carry me high way up
on his shoulder. Now I grow big and polite, and he is that far away to
me, and I thing' we are strangers."
The man was silent. "But I am _vaery_ happy," she continued, "because
some day I will be altogether with Orito, then we will be much luf for
each other again."
"May you always be happy, little woman," Sinclair said, almost huskily.
"Happiness is a priceless treasure; we throw away our chances of it
sometimes recklessly, for a joy of a moment only."
Mrs. Davis' voice broke in on them. She looked quite coldly at Sinclair.
"Come, Numè," she said, "I want you to meet some other people."