THE LAST HOJO.
Being a cunning and artful reader, you have long since guessed that
the pattern maid whose benign influence was destined to reform the
brutish No-Kami, was no other than O'Tei, while the paragon Daimio was
Nara.
The Shinto virgins, as unjust and purblind as young gorgons may be
expected to prove, were quite wrong as to O'Tei, who was no flirt. She
did all credit to her rearing, for, when summoned to leave the
conventual seclusion of the forest and assume the garb and
responsibilities of her rank, she dutifully murmured, "Let my father's
will be done," and accepted the husband of his choice. She had never
been told--for the holy bonzes knew little about the subject--that in
many marriages there are but two cheerful days--the first and the
last--and marched straight upon her fate without a tremor.
The elder Hojo, though a crafty and long-headed statesman, made a sad
mistake while arranging the affairs of his son. The air palace he
built was complete and imposing, beautiful to the eye, but, as the
muscular and practical Tomoye had foreseen, its foundations were of
the weakest. He forgot that old Nara, as lord in waiting, was likely
to be deeply attached to the person as well as to the position of the
Mikado; that he, like the rest of the Kuges, would probably treasure
up the insults which were freely showered on his master, with a view
to future vengeance.
Thanks to the uncompromising tactics of the despot, the reigning
Mikado (there were three in exile) was a boy, a _roi faineant_, a
puppet; but he was hedged about with the intangible and mystic
attributes of the Mikadoate, and the buffets he received reverberated
along the line of Kuges into the hearts of the lower class. To possess
the person of the Emperor was doubtless pleasing to the possessor--a
trump card--but those who did not possess him felt his thraldom
bitterly. That his daughter should wed the heir of the all-powerful
Hojo was satisfactory and flattering to Nara. So long as the tyrant
lived against whom it was hopeless to struggle, he would mask his
game; but after his death, what then? He was expected to assume the
functions of chief adviser, and keep the successor straight--was, in
fact, to tighten the bonds about his master's limbs, for the behoof of
the execrated family.
This was whimsical--illogically planned--and Hojo a fool for his
pains, When he contemplated the folly of the man he hated in his
heart, the grim visage of the cautious Nara was puckered into
unaccustomed smiles. The advice he would give in the future--so the
wily lord decided--must depend on the attitude of his son-in-law, and
be guided by the course of events for the benefit of the imperial
prisoner. In his mind's eye (if Hojo could only have guessed it!) he
beheld with secret exultation the brutish No-Kami sinking lower and
lower by sure degrees into debauchery, until the moment should arrive
when the ruler would become the ruled. And then--and then! Well, time
must show what then. Sufficient for the day is its labour.
Just as a Nimrod of the chase may fly safely over tremendous obstacles
and be undone by a ditch at last, so was it with old Hojo. He sallied
forth one day to put down an insignificant riot in never tranquil
Satsuma, and received there his quietus. As already related, the
faithful Tomoye died with him, and No-Kami--juvenile, inexperienced,
and cruel--was called to reign in his stead. And now, no longer
restrained in the smallest degree by respect for a severe mother or
fear of a fiery father, the new despot, surrounded by parasites, gave
free rein to all his vices.
The unaccustomed period of peace came to an abrupt conclusion. The
young Mikado having been goaded one day to remonstrate with his new
jailor, the latter raised his fan and slapped the august cheek. The
Kuges flew to arms to avenge their outraged lord, but No-Kami, with
the aureole of his father's prestige still about him, was too much for
them. The nobles who dwelt in the palace bore but little of the stamp
of warriors. The astute Nara, whilst hating the young man, saw that
now, while the aureole remained unfaded, it was not yet the time to
strike. He assumed therefore, with much parade of zeal, the _role_ of
mediator between his master and his son-in-law. At first in vain.
An unorganised band of patriots took the field, who were speedily
routed and slain; and No-Kami, like the tyrant that he was,
ungenerously pursued his advantage. Thanks to Nara's intervention, he
refrained from deposing the Mikado; but he made up for this act of
clemency by committing outrageous deeds. Banishment and confiscation
were the order of the day. The estates of those who had dared to
unsheath the _katana_ were distributed among the minions of the
despot. All over Japan, those who loved their country heard with
groans of the annihilation of the loyalists, and the pitiful condition
of the Emperors. There was a puppet Mikado at Ki[^y]oto, and a nominal
Shogun at Kamakura, but they were both under the tutelage of Hojo.
No-Kami, as Nara hoped and expected, flushed with easy victory, and
drunk with blood, resigned himself for a while to luxury, and
neglected public business. A horde of rapacious bravos and licensed
bandits sucked the lifeblood and paralysed the energies of the people.
The weight of taxes, that ever crushes the spirit of the Asiatic
peasant, grew heavier, day by day, until existence became intolerable.
How was an end to be put to this nightmare? That was the question
which all were fearfully whispering, and to which there seemed no
solution.
No-Kami, if self-indulgent and ruthless, was no zany. He knew that his
position was to be maintained by fear and a strong hand, and that
enervation meant destruction. Bundles of bamboo, when bound together,
will dam a stream, though each separate stem is but a feeble wand. The
insurrection of effeminate Kuges had been precipitate and foolish. If
the whole country were to rise like one man, he would, as he was
aware, be swept like rice chaff into the sea. In the mutual jealousy
of the Daimios lay his chief safeguard. While plunging each in
separate discomfort, union at all costs must be prevented. Attempts at
conspiracy among the nobles, or at combinations among the lower
classes, must be frustrated, and to that end he gave strict orders to
officials and tax-collectors to allow of no public meetings. The
people were to pay what was demanded of them, humbly and dutifully, as
best they could, but on no account were to be permitted to hold
gatherings. Even the great festivals of the year were for a while to
be discontinued.
Over and above these precautions, the tyrant surrounded his person
with a picked body-guard of Samurai, or two-sword men; hedged his
fortress with bristling defences; and recalled his brother, the
brilliant Sampei, from his career of victory abroad.
Urged possibly by a spirit of contrariness, a contempt for the society
of his prisoner and the Kuges--perhaps by a sense of freedom from
personal danger there--the favourite abode of No-Kami was his castle
of Tsu, four days' journey from the capital, over precipitous hills.
Here he loved to dwell, surrounded by his brawling warriors;
sojourning from time to time, when business called him to Ki[^y]oto,
at a small but superb villa, called the Golden House, which stood
secluded in a park on the outskirts of the sacred city.
The castle of Tsu was one of the strongest in Japan (the outline of
its foundations still remains to attest to its vast area), and
covered, within the square space of the outer moat, sufficient ground
to accommodate an army. This outer moat, upon which many a shallop
floated, was wide and deep and sluggish on three sides, masked by a
luxuriant crop of lotos; while the fourth wall was washed by a
rapidly-running river, the Iwatagawa, which a couple of miles away
brawled into the sea. Out of the water rose a platform of great
stones, with a fringe of gnarled and rusty pines, through which were
visible battlements of earth crowned by a low parapet. At each corner
was a huge four-storied building, fitted with four wide roofs of
sculptured copper; the walls of whitewashed plaster within frameworks
of unpainted wood. Inside this outer defence was a recreation and
drill-ground of sufficient extent to allow of room for jousts and
spectators, as well as trees and vegetable gardens, and a village of
wooden huts for soldiery and camp followers. Dwellings of a better
class were clustered like seashells about the second or inner moat,
which enclosed a second wall.
Within the inner square was a space of considerable size, in the
centre of which uprose the castle, a four-sided tower three hundred
feet in height, tapering towards the top. By reason of its many roofs
or verandahs of burnished and sculptured bronze, it seemed more like a
cluster of many towers, the centre one the loftiest; and a picturesque
object it was, for owing to the prevalence of earthquakes, all the
walls above the foundation platform were of whitened mud and plaster,
enclosed like the corner buildings within frames of timber; while the
middle roof reared its head with overhanging eaves to a sharp point,
crowned on the apex by a great fish, fashioned of pure gold.
This fortress was, barring miracle or treachery, justly reputed
impregnable. Both moats were crossed by drawbridges, as an extra
caution against surprise. The outer entrance was approached round a
corner, so that the gate with its side postern was doubly commanded
from above. Even if the outer wall were stormed, the inner one frowned
on the intruder with manifold engines, while the ground about it could
be rendered untenable by missiles from the summit of the tower.
A bowshot from the outer moat, westward from the river bank, the town
of Tsu, with straggling suburbs, meandered, low and grey, like a long
serpent. All Japanese towns are of one colour, walls and roofs alike,
of wood unpainted and weatherworn, rendered a shade more silvery by
clusters of pale lichen; but Tsu was more monotonously gloomy in
aspect than most, by reason of damp and misery. The country close
around, with the exception of two low hills, was flat and sedgy,
broken by marshes and shallow rivulets. Away, hazy, melting into blue,
could be discerned the encircling peaks of the range, beyond which is
Ki[^y]oto. Grand mountains these, rugged and austere, with many a
beetling crag. Mikuni Yama; Outake San; and away to the south-east
Asama Yama, the majestic chief volcano of Japan.
The town of Tsu differed from others in that it displayed none of the
spick-and-span cleanliness for which the land of the Rising Sun is as
conspicuous as European Holland. The outlying cottages bore the stamp
of squalor and ague, standing in oozy sludge. So did the people bear
the brand of sorrow, as, listless and inert, they dragged their heavy
feet. As a poor show of enterprise, a few unripe persimmons, which no
one desired to buy, were exposed for sale in the mire; while here and
there a tray of sorrel-like leaves were placed to dry (?)--a plant
used for dying blue the cotton which is the common garment of the
peasant. There was none of the briskness and gaiety to be seen that
make rural Japan so cheery. None of the incessant chatter and laughter
and pattering of clogs, the rush-and-tumble of naked brown babies, the
whirr of the silk-looms, the busy hammer of the carpenters.
The houses, wide open to the street, displayed the usual raised
platform of wood, smoothly planed, covered with matting, with
_hibachi_ or firebox in the middle; but there was no brilliant glimpse
beyond of the wonderful toy gardens, with rocks and dwarfed trees and
straying tortoises and gaudy flowers and crickets in tiny cages, which
distinguish a prosperous village. The paper windows or screens being
always pushed back in their grooves during the day, a rustic Japanese
household of the lower class may be said to live in public; for, till
the screens are replaced, which they usually are at dusk, there may be
said to be no privacy. You have a free view of goodman or matron in
the bath, or at the toilet, or eating, or sleeping, or at work, and
unabashed--with innocence sometimes for only garment--they nod to you
pleasantly with a cheerful "Ohayo!" as you pass. Tsu was too degraded,
steeped to the lips in grinding poverty, to have energy for work or
washing, much less for the homely ornament of a single lily in a
pot. Almost entirely nude the men, unkempt and frowsy, lolled and
slept--such a marvellous variety of attitudes of sleep a sculptor
might find there--while the housewife, thin and sallow, naked to the
waist, fumbled feebly over the weaving of cheap hats, or grass sandals
for man and horse.
Of course the town could boast of a superior quarter, where, in front
of houses of a better kind, were flapping blue cotton awnings, each
one adorned with the dominant daimio's cognisance. Into one of these,
apparently the cleanest and the best, we will enter (first removing
our clogs and swords), for what is proceeding within should interest
us somewhat.
It is evening. The house-platform is raised on stilts as usual, two
feet above ground, and the first room or ante-chamber is open to the
street. When we rap with fan on the paper screen beyond, some one
cries "Enter," and sliding it aside we find ourselves in a large low
room, whose ceiling of unpolished cryptomeria is supported by pillars
of cherry. Above the dais or recess of honour at the end, a single
picture hangs, representing the thirty-three Kwannon; under it is a
gilt image of Buddha; while the monotony of the one wooden wall (the
others are formed by paper screens running in grooves) is broken by a
wandering spray of maple foliage, painted in autumn tints.
Everything is scrupulously clean and severely simple. You only become
aware that this is a superior dwelling, by remarking the fineness of
the mats. In the centre, round a large _hibachi_ of bronze, filled
with charcoal, a group are huddled close, for the all-pervading damp
is chilling to the bones. Two well-known elders of the town are
there--Zembei, and Rokubei his friend--the former talking volubly;
while a man of middle age, the master of the house, is listening with
dubious frown. His wife, Kennui, sits by, his hand in hers; while
apart in a corner, with eyes as bright as a squirrel's, and flushed
cheek, stands their eldest daughter Mine. Her mind--some call her a
forward damsel--is disturbed, for, impatient and annoyed, she pushes
aside a screen, and clatters off into the back garden, to tease with a
finger the darting gold-fish that with mosquitoes reign in a pond.
The frowning man is Koshiu, the most important farmer in these parts,
broad-shouldered, grave, and grizzled, whose opinions are of weight in
the province.
Zembei--aged, with face like a walnut--has brought unpleasant news;
indeed he has often dropped in of late, and each time his tidings are
less agreeable. It is the old story, gruesome and too familiar. The
rapacious Hojo needs more money--is always demanding more. But it is
quite too bad to worry the men of Tsu, his own home, the poorest
district in the Empire. Already the starving population have abandoned
hope. In a former life they must have been very wicked, to suffer so
much in this.
After a long pause of dejection, "Maybe my lord knows not of our
wretchedness," suggests the farmer's wife, by way of pouring oil upon
the waters.
"Peace, Kennui!" sighs her spouse. "As well throw stones at the sun,
or try to scatter a fog with a fan, as look for humanity from a Hojo!
They were ever merciless."
"Too true!" groans Rokubei, the elder. "Thus the matter stands; though
you have shown so little interest of late, that perchance I am wasting
breath."
"Ay, that hath he!" chimes in Zembei. "Why is it? You, Koshiu, whose
words were ever of moment, and treated with respect, although from
your stubborn pride you were never popular, instead of helping us,
have been hanging back, content with grumbling complaint. We must act
now, I tell you, and rend the air no more with idle moaning, or else
we perish all! Gird up your loins, man. Awake! For unless this torrent
of greed be stemmed, although less poor than most, you will soon be a
beggar like the rest."
"My husband," interrupted Kennui, "is misjudged. He loves the people,
and grieves for them, but perceives that resistance is useless--idle
remonstrance will but make their plight more pitiful."
"The beetle in combat with the bear!" laughed the farmer drearily.
"Act, forsooth! All this is idle prate, believe me. What can we do but
die?"
"No idle prate," retorted Zembei. "Listen. By deputation--of which you
would not form one--we humbly prayed and entreated the local
counsellors of my lord:--the leeches--to be more lenient; but they
replied that they were only tools, exactly performing his bidding.
Then, after anxious thought and discussion, gathering together in
secret the chiefs of a hundred villages, at peril of our heads, we
resolved to draw up and send a solemn petition, signed by all, to my
lord's golden dwelling at Ki[^y]oto, imploring justice. Twelve of the
most respected elders, chosen from the assembly by lot, undertook the
dangerous task. Clad in their grass rain-coats, they sallied forth,
and arrived in time at Ki[^y]oto."
"Idiots!" scoffed Koshiu. "Did they pay a long farewell to wives and
little ones?"
"Arrived at the Golden House, they were received at the gate with
blows and contumely."
"What else did they expect?" inquired the farmer--"to be feasted in
the room of honour? Other lords perhaps, dreading public exposure of
their misdeeds, might, if pushed, hasten to repair a wrong--the Hojos
never; for the Hojos have no shame."
Mine pouted, and rapped the pavement with impatient clog.
"To be sweeping is always to be unjust!" she cried shrilly, from the
border of the pond. "There are good as well as bad in every family."
"Hush, child, hush! Be dutiful!" reproved her mother. "Thou wast
bewitched by soft empty speeches and a bold bearing. It was a bad day
for thee when the lord Sampei came among us!"
"He is good and brave and generous," returned the girl, with burning
face, "my lord Sampei!"
Mine cooed out the name that was on every one's lips, with such an
exceeding abandonment of tenderness as startled her father into
attention.
"More words less sense!" he remarked testily. "My lord Sampei! what
hast thou to do with him or his? My lord Sampei forsooth! Wouldst be a
Hojo's concubine? Never! I'd see thee dead first."
"The maid speaks not untruly," nodded Rokubei. "Sampei is in all
things, save his name, unlike his brother. Through his mother Masago,
the holy Abbess, he has peasant blood in his veins."
"And she," chimed in the girl, "the late lord's concubine, although of
peasant stock, is worthy to be noble. As good as her son is the Abbess
Masago. Cold and severe, no doubt, but just and lovable."
"How the child prates!" cried Madam Koshiu. "The lord Sampei has been
absent these five years, skull-cracking, and is but just returned.
What canst thou know of him? When he sailed, thou wert a little maid,
and even than now more foolish."
"From his mother I have heard of him," admitted the blushing girl.
"So this was thy religious fervour, praying so often at the temple!"
exclaimed the angry farmer. "Take heed, thou silly wench, or I will
punish thee, and grievously. What! A cur can bark loudly before its
own gate, and I can defend my own. Once for all, no more of the lord
Sampei, or it will go ill with thee. Banish from thy feather-pate idle
worship of thy betters."
The mien of Koshiu was so stern and threatening, that though words of
indignant protest rose to her lips, the girl was silent.
"What if he were prevailed upon to intercede for us?" mused Rokubei.
"He is as generous as brave--no doubt of that. My lord, after his
brother's career of victory, could scarce refuse him a favour."
"Five years bring about great changes," growled the farmer. "Five
years ago Hojo No-Kami was no worse than others of his rank. You will
never persuade me that aught of good is to be found in a Hojo,
legitimate or otherwise. Enough of him. Go on with your story of the
elders."
"They were received, as I told you, at the outer gate with blows and
curses. Had they not fled, murder would have been done, for a posse of
samurai rushed out of the guardhouse, like devils, brandishing pikes.
Disconcerted, grieved, and bruised, they returned to their inn to
consult. Was the journey to go for nothing? Were they to return like
beaten dogs, without even seeing my lord? Peradventure face to face
with him something might yet be done, and his hard heart softened by
their dismal catalogue of woe. They plumed their ruffled feathers,
therefore, and lay in wait, and when he rode forth citywards, emerged
from a clump of trees, and kneeling humbly in the dust, presented
their petition. He took it, and, grinding his teeth with eyes aflame,
turned savagely to his attendants.
"'Remove these wretches!' he thundered, 'who by persistent insolence
have deserved more than death. By-and-by will I pass judgment on them.
Torment shall reward their temerity.'"
A silence of dismay followed the elder's narrative. Koshiu was surely
right--his deep hate justified. It seemed that the existing Hojo was
worse than any of his ancestors--and so young too! What a gloomy
future for unhappy fatherland! What a sunless roll of years!
"The land is ripe for revolt, if we could find a leader we could
trust," observed Zembei, who had been nursing his knees in silence.
"The other lords are weary of the Hojo, but unfortunately jealous of
each other. If they would bury for a time their private feuds, things
might yet come right. He who ventures not within the den, will never
take the cub."
"There is no trusty leader, except the victorious General, himself a
Hojo!" added the other elder. "Buddha has forgotten us. The case is
beyond mortal settling. There is left for us nothing but to die."
Here was a dismal and unsatisfactory conclusion to the debate, and it
seemed that there was no other, for each with dolorous visage eyed his
neighbour, with nothing more to say.
Mine, tossing off her _geta_ on the garden stones, and springing up
with pretty pink feet upon the matted floor, came forward.
"I am but a girl," she said timidly, "and, my father tells me,
foolish. Yet from mouths of fools sometimes come words of wisdom. You
can die, you say. Is not death the last resource, when all else has
failed, for escaping from earthly woe? Masago, the dear Abbess, is
worshipped for miles around. Prejudiced though you are, you have
nought to say but praise of her goodness and her piety. Sampei is her
son--nay, I will speak--and who should know a son better than his
mother? In your grief you are prone to believe evil, and speak harsh
and unjust words of him you know not. Seek him out, and implore his
intercession with his brother. Seek out the lady O'Tei--an angel come
to earth. She, the chatelaine, is now at the castle yonder. Entreat
her help as well, and sure betwixt the two that stony heart shall
melt."
Mine blushed like a tea-rose at finding herself thus boldly haranguing
a trio of grizzled pates, and flinging herself down by her mother's
side in sudden bashfulness, buried her hot face in her bosom.
"Buddha is not asleep," observed Madame Koshiu, with conviction, as
she stroked her daughter's head. "Verily the child speaks wisely words
that are put into her mouth."
"We will follow her counsel," assented the marvelling Zembei, "for the
gods--whose names be praised--are with us. Urged by his brother and
his wife, my lord will surely give us the lives of the devoted elders.
We--Rokubei and Zembei--will journey ourselves to Ki[^y]oto, and make
another effort. Learn, O stubborn Koshiu, a lesson from thy child, who
has given us the counsel that we needed."
The farmer shook his head.
"Cursed be the tree of Hojo, root and branch!" he cried. "Its fruit is
crime, its blossom, wickedness. My lord Sampei and my lord No-Kami are
scourges both! Go your ways, and do as you think fit. I tell you your
errand will be vain."
Was there ever any one so obstinate as this sturdy Koshiu?--a man who
could only rail instead of bestowing help. The two elders were about
to upbraid him for his mulishness, for they, like others, had naught
but admiration for Sampei, when, raising his hand, he said,--
"Listen, wife and friends. You deem me supine,--my judgment warped by
bias. In this you wrong me. I am ready to lay down my life, if need
be, for the common good, but not to fling it uselessly away. Try your
plan first: go to Ki[^y]oto, and fail; then it shall be my turn. The
arrogance of my lord reached its highest point when, some brief while
ago, he smote with his fan the face of the revered one. For that sin,
vengeance, if tardy, will be complete some day. The horror that flowed
over the land warned him of the danger of his folly, of which,
for safety's sake, he will never again be guilty. The Hojos are
merciless--you will gain nothing from them but stripes. Here is my
plan. I will gird my loins, and journey alone to the capital, and,
biding my time in secret, will, with Heaven's help, thrust a copy of
the petition into the hand of the Mikado himself, as in a litter he
takes the air. Then will he, grieving for us, demand a public
explanation from my lord as to why the poorest portion of the country
should be ground down with such heavy burthens. So will my lord, weary
with much admonishing, be stirred to lighten our backs."
The farmer's wife, hearkening to his decision, groaned and wept, for
she felt that the tyrant, even if he gave way under strong pressure,
would seek a victim for his wrath--that one the weakest. The elders
saw the situation in the same light. They did not strive, however, to
combat his resolve, for though their friend would probably be
sacrificed, themselves would be gainers by his deed. If he chose to
immolate himself, why not? They expressed approval, therefore, nodding
topknots in unison, and, rising, departed to their homes, gossiping in
whispers by the way.
What a relief to know that they had been deceived in Koshiu. 'Twas a
boldly-devised scheme that, whereby a peasant was to dare in person to
address the Holy One. Peradventure he would be cut down by the guards
ere he could present the paper. Well, well, time would show; and if,
in the people's cause, he perished, his name would go down with
blessings to posterity.
His decision was a relief, in other ways, as the two friends agreed,
pattering side by side in the quiet of the night. It was vastly heroic
on their part, considering what had already been undergone by the
other elders, to declare that they would cast themselves in the
breach. If my lord Sampei could be induced to interest himself, they
would be the bearers of his missive to his brother, and so gain credit
in the town for wondrous' devotion to the people's cause. Not that for
them there would be real danger (they had made up their minds of
that), for No-Kami, however ferocious, would surely refrain from
maltreating his brother's messengers. And yet now as they walked
along, it seemed wise to give up the risk. Caution becomes old men.
The independent Koshiu was resolved to make a journey on his own
account: clearly there was nothing to be gained by everybody going.
They would let him go, for obstinate men will have their way. All
things considered, themselves having gained credit by proposing to go,
would stop at home and do honour, by-and-by, to the escaped elders,
when released.
This much satisfactorily settled, they gabbled of other things. Only
to think of that little Mine being so clear-headed. Verily love works
wonders. A comely maid, if unduly ambitious, and warm, to boot, of
temper. How her blood mantled at her father's railing. How undaunted
was her defence of the young General. She must love him much to be
stung into bearding, for his sake, her sturdy parent. He must have won
her heart before he sailed, and had long since, no doubt, forgotten
her.
A silly wench to look so high. A great General might stoop to pluck a
flower as he passed, but, loosely caught, it would speedily fall from
his breast, and he unwitting of the loss. She certainly was pretty;
would develop some day, obstinate and headstrong like her father, into
a shrew. Yes, she was young and fair to look upon at present, and,
perhaps, were she so brazen as to cast herself at the young man's
feet, he might deign to raise her for a moment.
Chattering thus, the cronies parted, each trudging his own way by the
glimmer of his paper lantern. Could they have delved into the mind of
the farmer's daughter, and have seen what was passing there, they
would have had genuine cause for wonder.
Mine, as with frowning brow and dejected step she moved among the
stones in the garden, struck her palms impatiently together.
"I cannot bear it, and I will not!" she muttered. "Hard and unjust and
narrow is my father! Of these taunts there shall be an end. I gave my
heart to _him_ to trample on, and do not regret the gift. His I am or
no one's until death. Each day and hour to hear him and his reviled
and vilified, is constant torture. I will leave a home that is not to
be endured, and take refuge for the present with the Abbess."
Mine was a true daughter of Koshiu. Once her mind made up, there was
no further indecision. Wrapping a mantle around her, she moved on
tiptoe to where her three brothers slept, and then stealing forth into
the night, closed the shutters behind her.
"Adieu, my darlings, perchance for ever!" she murmured tenderly; "for
better or for worse the die is cast. He will soon visit the temple to
see the mother whom he loves. If he will have me, I am his, to do with
according to his pleasure; if not, I will remain to pray for him
within the temple, in the garb of Buddha's handmaid."