"But, my lord, my lord, he could not have done it! He is so kind, so good, he never hurt a thing in all his life."
The man leaned forward, gazing intently into her eyes.
"Has this stranger made you forget your father? Have you forgotten your oath, _your_ oath? Have you forgotten why your father is now in the Land of Shadows?" He pointed to the shrine.
"Look, there is his tablet within that shrine. But the doors are closed. In our home, in our family temple are tablets. The doors of the shrines have never been opened. His spirit has not had the incense to help him on the way. The morning offering has not been his. He has been compelled to travel alone on the way to the G.o.ds, because we, his family--you and I--have not avenged his death.
"No, do not speak," he continued, as Yuki was about to interrupt. "He was murdered, and until the man who sent him on his way joins him in his journey, his spirit can have no peace. And you, his daughter, dare not, for fear of the G.o.ds, open the shrine to make the offering that the poorest peasant makes to his dead! But to-night I bring you the final word of the clan. To give you the honor of doing the deed that will wash the stain from our name. You know that a servant must avenge the death of his master, a son that of his father, a Samurai the death of his overlord, and I come to give you--a girl, an inheritance that will make you envied of men."
"I do not understand--my lord, you mean----"
"Yuki San, he killed your father, the head of our house, and he must die to-night."
Yuki rose and went to the man. Taking him by the arms she looked up into his face piteously, with wide, frightened eyes.
"My lord, my lord, you can not mean it--that he shall die--Morris die!"
The old man looked down into the pale face, the searching, pitiful eyes; but there shone no mercy in the hard eyes that met the ones raised pleadingly to his.
"Yes, and you, the only child of the man he killed, shall fulfill the sacred oath, and bring peace to your father"s honorable soul."
Yuki was utterly bewildered and said falteringly: "I do not understand--I do not understand."
With the monotonous voice of the fatalist the uncle continued:
"It would have been better if a man-child had been born to our lord, as his arm would not falter; but you will take as sure a way, if not as honorable as the sword. Here is the means." He drew a little bottle from the sleeve of his kimono. "A little of this and he sleeps instantly and well."
Yuki held out her hands to the man sitting like fate before her.
"My lord, how can I? We have been so happy! My Dana San has never given me an unkind look, never caused me a moment"s sorrow. I love him, Uncle, not as a j.a.panese woman loves her lord, but as a foreign woman from over the seas loves the man whom she has chosen from all the world. For two years we have been in this little house, for two years he has been my every breath. My first thought in the morning was for Morris, my Dana San, my last thought at night was joy in the thought that I was his and that he loved me. Sometimes I waken and look at him, and wonder how such a great man can care for such a simple j.a.panese girl as I am. And now you ask me to hurt him?" She drew her head up proudly. "I can not and I will not. He is my husband, and no matter what he has done I will protect him--even from you."
The man rose, and striding to her, grasped her roughly by the arm.
"Woman, you will do as we say. You are a j.a.panese and you know even unto death you must obey. I have no fear. It will be done--and by you--to-night."
He released her arm, and she, looking down upon the tatami, moved her foot silently to and fro, absorbed with this tragedy that had come into her happy life. Then she had a thought that brought hope to her, and she looked up eagerly. "Perhaps it is not true--perhaps it was not really Morris----"
"Listen," said the man roughly. "It was he. We _know_. But you--if you do not believe--make him confess to-night. If it was not he, then you are free. If it is, you will know what to do--and it will be done to-night--remember."
Yuki looked into the hard black eyes staring at her, fascinating her, taking all the life from her, and she said slowly as if under a spell:
"Yes--if he confesses--if it was he--I know it will be done. But--if the G.o.ds take him, they will also take me."
The uncle shook her roughly by the arm.
"_No!_ Listen to me. Your work is not yet done. You must live. It would be too much happiness to have your spirit travel with him the lonely road. He must walk the path alone, without love to guide him.
You will return to me to-night, return to your home and family who await you. Our vengeance would be only half complete if we allowed you to journey to the Land of Shadows with him. Come to me--" and he drew her to him. "Look at me. I will await you at the Willow Tea House."
He took her face in his hands and gazed steadily into her eyes, saying in a low, tense voice:
"I do not fear--you will obey. Are you not a j.a.panese? I expect--you--to--come--to--me--after your work is done--and the G.o.ds will be with you. Sayonara."
He put on his clogs at the entrance and went away, his form scarcely distinguishable in the gloom as he went down the pathway. Yuki looked after him, then threw herself on her face on the floor with a little moan, beating her hands in the manner of an Eastern woman.
It was absolutely quiet in the room, no noise coming from the street outside, except from a far distance a woman"s voice chanting in a tone of singular sweetness words that sounded in their minor key like the soft tones of a flute: "_Amma Konitchi Wahyak Mo_," then between these sweet calls a plaintive whistle--one long-drawn note, then two shorter ones--the cry of the blind ma.s.sage woman, making her rounds for her evening"s toil.
The cry died away, and only the low moan was heard within the little room. Morris opened the gate and came lightly up the pathway, whistling a few bars of the latest popular song. He came inside the room, and, hardly able to distinguish the objects, looked about wonderingly, then seeing Yuki lying where she had thrown herself, he went over to her and picked her up.
"My sweetheart, what is it? What has happened?" He sat down upon the long chair and held her against him. "Tell me, dear one, tell me."
Morris went over to the lamp after a few moments and lighted it, then came back and showed Yuki a little gift he had brought her. She took it and looked at it with eyes filled with tragic grief; then, pressing it against her face, put her head on his shoulder and began sobbing in a heart-broken way that amazed Morris.
She lay with her face hidden, he softly caressing her hair. Finally she said:
"Morris, we have been here two years. Tell me--have I made you happy?"
Morris threw back his head and laughed happily.
"Happy, Yuki, happy? Dear heart, I had a long time ago put aside the thought that love meant happiness and happiness meant love. Now you have taught me that one cannot exist without the other. I love you, I live with you, you are mine. That tells everything. When you came into my life, into my heart, I was soured and embittered. Life meant only work and duties done; after that, comfort and a cigar--that was all.
But now, I love my work as well, I do it as thoroughly, but there is something more. I know when I shut the office-door, I can come here where no one can enter. I can be alone with the woman I love and who loves me. There is no question of society or dinners, but just us two alone, you and me--and," turning up her face, "you are happy with me, my Yuki San? You love me?"
Yuki did not reply at once. Then in a low, sweet voice she replied:
"Morris, we j.a.panese women never speak of love. It is to us a subject left to singing girls and geishas. Without it we marry, and without it we live, and it is, unless by chance, a closed book to us. I do not know if I love you as the women of your race love their Dana Sans--I know I think of you by day, and I dream of you by night. I live only for you--to be what you wish me to be--and when you take me in your arms and say, "My Yuki San, my sweetheart," it seems to me that my heart with its happiness will break! I do not know if that is love--but if it be--I love you, my Dana San, I love you."
She lay quietly, and he rested his face against her hair, caressing it from time to time. After a silence, he inquired lightly:
"What about supper, Yuki?"
Yuki drew him to her again, for he moved as if he would rise.
"Wait, dear, let us talk a little. Tell me, when you to Tokio came--the first time----"
"Twelve years ago, when O Yuki San was a little girl."
"Twelve years ago--there was much trouble then between foreigners and j.a.panese. You and your friends--had--had trouble."
Morris looked at her quickly and his eyes darkened.
"Where did you hear that?" he asked.
Yuki, carelessly: "Oh, they gossip in the market-place."
Morris rose and walked up and down the room.
"I don"t know what you have heard, but I might as well tell you the whole story. I did have trouble here in j.a.pan. One night some of us got in a mix-up--a sort of quarrel with a j.a.panese, and I don"t know how it happened--I never have known--but I struck and killed him. It was in the dark, and I could hardly see him."
After a silence Yuki stammered: "You--killed him?"