IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A J^4^ 1.0 I.I 1.25 Uim 3121 ^ KiS 12.2 1^ 2.0 1.8 U i 1.6 <^ n #1"''?' ^ -(^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image rep.oduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la methods normale de filmage sont indiqu^s ci-dessous. D Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur I I Covers damaged/ D D D D D n Couverture endommag6e Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurde et/ou pellicui^e I I Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps/ Cartes gdographiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Reli6 avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La reliure serr^e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge intdrieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ I se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout^es lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 film^es. D D D D D n D D n Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur Pages damaged/ Pages endommagdes Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages restaurdes et/ou pelliculdes Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages d6color6es, tachet6es ou piqudes Pages detached/ Pages d6tach6es Showthrough/ Transparence Quality of print varies/ Qualitd indgale de I'impression Includes supplementary material/ Comprend du materiel suppldmentaire Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont 6t6 filmdes A nouveau de fapon d obtenir la meilleure image possible. D Adfiiiional comments:/ Corr.mentaires suppldmentaires; This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est film6 au taux de reduction indiqu6 ci-dessous. 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X J 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: National Library of Canada L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grflce d la g6n6rosit6 de: Bibliothdque nationale du Canada The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Les images suivantes ont 6x6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettet6 de l'exemplaire filmd, et en conformitd avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol —•►(meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning In the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprim6e sont film6s en commenpant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmds en commengant par la premiere page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaltra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole -^^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmds 6 des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est i\\m6 6 partir de Tangle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche 6 droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 ST i't KOTO WOULD NOT MARRY. ■i.l MISS NUME A Japanese-American Romance BY ONOTO WATANNA "^"ru^'ru"^'" """" "^ "y^cinthr 'A Japanese Nighlingaler The Wootng 0/ Wistaria," 'A Japanese Blossom," ■■Tama" Chicago and New York RAND McNALLY & COMPANY PUBLISHERS PS35V5 264046 Copyright, 1899, by Rand, McNally & Co. THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO MV FRIEND. HELEN M. BOWE N BECAUSE I LOVE HER SO CONTENTS. CHAPTER. I — Parental Ambitions, . . '^°^. II — Cleo '.'.'.''' III — Who Can Analyze a Coquette ? . ,, IV — The Dance on Deck . 20 V— Her Gentle Enemy, . . 2j VI -A Veiled Hint .".'.'."." .1 VII — Jealousy Without Love, ... ' "Jy VIII — The Man She Did Love. . . ! . . . . ' „ IX — Merely a Woman 40 X — Watching the Night, ...,..' !, XI — At the Journey's End, •......,[ H XII — Those Queer Japanese ! XIII — Takashima's Home-Coming, . XIV -After Eight Years, ... ?: XV-Nume .'!.'""' t XVI — An American Classic, . . fi XVII-" Still a Child," . „ XVIII -The Meeting. . . ..'.'.'.'.'.[ [ II XIX — Confidences, XX — Sinclair's Indifference, . o, XXI-"Me? I Lig'You." ...*.* .' .' ." ' H XXII — Advice, . . XXIII — Afraid to Answer XXIV — Visiting the Tea Houses. . It XXV— Shattered Hopes ." .' 104 XXVI — Conscience, .18 XXVII — Confession XXVJII — Japanese Pride • . " ! ! iic XXIX — Seclusion, XXX — Feminine Diplomacy ! . . 121 CONTENTS. CHAPTER. PAOK. XXXI — A Barbarian Dinner 124 XXXII — The Philosophy of Love. 126 XXXIII -What Can that "Luf Be? 130 XXXI V — Conspirators 133 XXXV — A Respite for Sinclair 136 XXXVI — Those Bad Jinrikisha Men 139 XXXVII — Those Good Jinrikisha Men 141 XXXVIII — Disproving a Proverb 144 XXXIX— Love! 148 XL — A Passionate Declaration 152 XLI — A Hard Subject to Handle 156 XLII — AStory 160 XLIII — The Truth of the Proverb 163 XLIV — Nume Breaks Down 167 XLV — Trying to Forget 171 XLVI — An Observant Husband, 173 XLVII — Matsushima Bay 176 XL VIII — A Rejected Lover 180 XLIX — The Answer 184 L — The Ball 187 LI — The Fearful News igo LII — The Tragedy, 192 LIII — A Little Heroine 194 LI V — Sinclair Learns the Truth at Last 198 LV — Lovers Again 202 LVI — The Penalty 206 LVII — The Pity of It All, 211 LVIII — Mrs. Davis's Nerves 214 LIX — Cleo and Nximk 217 I I Miss Nume of Japan. J^J^J^ CHAPTER I. PARENTAL AMBITIONS. When Orito, son of Takashima Sachi, was but ten years of age, and Niimfe, daughter of Watanabe Omi, a tiny girl of three, their fathers talked quite seriously of betrothing them to each other, for they had been great friends for many years, and it was the dearest wish of their lives to see their children united in marriage. They were very wealthy men, and the father of Orito was ambitious that his son should have an unusually good education, so that when Orito was seventeen years of age, he had left the public school of Tokyo and was attending the Imperial University. About this time, and when Orito was at home on a vacation, there came to the little town where they lived, and which was only a very short distance from Tokyo, certain foreigners from the West, who rented land from Sachi and became neighbors to him and to Omi. Sachi had always taken a great deal of interest in these foreigners, many of whom he had met quite often while on business in Tokyo, and he was very a 5 6 MISS NUMR OF JAPAN. much pleased with his new tenants, who, in spite of their barbarous manners and dress, seeircd good- natured and friendly. Often in the evening he and Omi would walk through the valley to their neigh- bors' house, and listen to them very attentively while they told them of their home in America, which they said was the greatest country in the world. After a time the strange men went away, though neither Sachi nor Omi forgot them, and very often they talked of them and of their foreign home. One day Sachi said very seriously to his friend : "Omi, these strangers told us much of their strange land, and talked of the fine schools there, where all manner of learning is taught. What say you that I do send my unworthy son, Orito, to this America, so that he may see much of the world, and also become a great scholar, and later return to crave thy noble daughter in marriage?" Omi was fairly delighted with this proposal, and the two friends talked and planned, and then sent for the lad. Orito was a youth of extreme beauty. He was tall and slender; his face was pale and oval, with features as fine and delicate as a girl's. His was not merely a beautiful face; there was something else in it, a certain impassive look that rendered it almost startling in its wonderful inscrutableness. It was not expressionless, but unreadable — the face of one with the noble blood of the Shizoku and Samurai — pale, refined, and emotionless. He bowed low and courteou.sly when he entered. PARENTAL AMHITIONS. and said a few words of jjcntle greeting to Omi, in a clear, mellow voice that was very pleasing. Sachi's eyes sparkled with pride as he looked on his son. Unlike Orilo, he was a very impulsive man, and without preparing the boy, he hastened to tell him at once of their pUins for his future. While his father was speaking Ohto's face did not alter from its calm, grave attention, although he was unusually moved. He only said, "What of Num6, my father?" Sachi and Omi beamed on him. "When you return from this America I will give you Num6 as a bride," said Omi. "And when will that be?" asked Orito, in a low voice. "In eight years, my son, and you shall have all manner of learning there, which cannot be acquired here in Tokyo or in Kyushu, and the manner of learning will be different from that taught anywhere in Japan. You will have a foreign education, as well as what you have learned here at home. It shall be thorough, and therefore it will take some years. You must prepare at once, my son ; I desire it." Orito bowed gracefully and thanked his father, declaring it was the chief desire of his life to obey the will of his parent in all thmgs. Now Num^ was a very peculiar child. Unlike most Japanese maidens, she was impetuous and wayward. Her mother had died when she was born, and she had never had any one to guide or direct her, so that she had grown up in a careless, MISS NUME OF JAPAN. happy fashion, worshiped by her father's servants, but depending entirely upon Orito for all her small joys. Orito was her only companion and friend, and she believed blindly in him. She told him all her little troubles, and he in turn tried to teach her many things, for, although their fathers intended to betroth them to each other as soon as they were old enough, still Num^ was only a little girl of ten, whilst Orito was a tall man-youth of nearly eighteen years. They loved each other very dearly; Orito loved Num6 because she was one day to be his little wife, and because she was very bright and pretty ; whilst Nume loved big Orito with a pride that was pathetic in its confidence. That afternoon Num^ waited long for Orito to come, but the boy had gone out across the valley, and was wandering aimlessly among the hills, try- ing to make up his mind to go to Nume and tell her that in less than a week he must leave her, and his beautiful home, for eight long years. The next day a great storm broke over the little town, and Num^ was unable to go to the school, and because Orito had not come she became very restless and wandered fretfully about the house. So she com- plained bitterly to her father that Orito had not come. Then Omi, forgetting all else save the great future in store for his prospective son-in-law, told her of their plans. And Num^ listened to him, not as Orito had done, with quiet, calm face, for hers was stormy and rebellious, and she sprang to her father's side and caught his hands sharply in her little ones, crying out passionately: ! PARENTAL AMBITIONS. ( ■ \ .' "No! no! my father, do not send Orito away." Omi was shocked at this display of unmaidenly conduct, and arose in a dignified fashion, ordering his daughter to leave him, and Numfe crept out, too stunned to say more. About an hour after that Orito came in, and discovered her rolled into a very forlorn little heap, with her head on a cushion, and weeping her eyes out. "You should not weep, Nume," he said. "You should rather smile, for see, I will come back a great scholar, and will tell you of all I have seen — the people I have met — the strange men and women." But at that Nume pushed him from her, and declared she wanted not to hear of those bar- barians, and flashed her eyes wrathfuUy at him, whereat Orito assured her that none of them would be half as beautiful or sweet as his little Num& — his plum blossom; for the word Num^ means plum blossom in Japanese. Finally Num^ promised to be very brave, and the day Orito left she only wept when no one could see her. And so Orito sailed for America, and entered a great college called * ' Harvard. ' ' And little Num^ remained in Japan, and because there was no Orito now to tell her thoughts to, she grew very subdued and quiet, so that few would have recognized in her the merry, wayward little girl who had followed Orito around like his very shadow. But Nume never forgot Orito for one little moment, and when every one else in the house was sound asleep, she would lie awake thinking of him. T lO MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER II. CLEO. "No use looking over there, my dear. Takie has no heart to break — never knew a Jap that had, for that matter — cold sort of creatures, most of them." The speaker leaned nonchalantly against the guard rail, and looked half-amusedly at the girl beside him. She raised her head saucily as her companion addressed her, and the willful little toss to her chin was so pretty and wicked that the man laughed outright. ' ' No need for you to answer in words, ' ' he said. "That wicked, willful look of yours bodes ill for the Jap's — er — heart. " "I would like to know him," said the girl, slowly and quite soberly. "Really, he is very good- looking." "Oh! yes — I suppose so — for a Japanese," her companion interrupted. The girl looked at him in undisguised disgust for a moment. "How ignorant you are, Tom!" she said, impa tiently; "as if it makes the slightest difference what nationality he belongs to. Mighty lot you know about the Japanese." Tom wilted before this assault, and the girl took advantage to say: "Now, Tom, I want to know J CLEO. II Mr. — a — a — Takashima. U7iai a name! Go, like the dear good boy you ars, and bring him over here." Tom straightened his shoulders. "I utterly, completely, and altogether refuse to introduce you, young lady, to any other man on board this steamer. Why, at the rate you're going there won't be a heart-whole man on board by the time we reach Japan." "But you said Mr. Ta — Takashima — or 'Takie,' as you call him, had no heart. ' ' "True, but you might create one in him. I have a great deal of confidence in you, you know. " "Oh! Tom, don't be ridiculous now. Horrid thing! I believe you just want to be coaxed." Tom's good-natured, fair face expanded in a broad smile for a moment. Then he tried to clear it. '''Always disliked to be coaxed," he choked. "Hem!" The girl looked over into the waters a moment, thinking. Then she rose up and looked Tom in the face. "Tom, if you don't I'll go over and speak to him without an introduction." ' ' Better try it, ' * said Tom, aggravatingly. ' ' Why, you'd shock him so much he wouldn't get over it for a year. You don't know these Japs as I do, my dear — dozens of them at our college — awfully strict on subject of etiquette, manners, and all that folderol." "Yes, but I'd tell him it was an American cus- tom." 12 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. *• Can't fool Takashima, my dear. Been in Amer- ica eight years now — knows a thing or two, I guess." Takashima, the young Japanese, looked over at them, with the unreadable, quiet gaze peculiar to the better class Japanese. His eyes loitered on the girl's beautiful face, and he moved a step nearer to them, as a gentleman in passing stood in front, and for a moment hid them from him. * ' He is looking at us now, ' ' said the girl, innocently. Tom stared at her round-eyed for a moment. "How on earth do you know that? Your head is turned right from him. ' ' Again the saucy little toss of the chin was all the girl's answer. *'He's right near us now. Tom, please, please — now's your chance," she added, after a minute. The Japanese had come quite close to them. He was still looking at the girl's face, as though thor- oughly fascinated with its beauty. A sudden wind came up from the sea and caught the red cape she wore, blowing it wildly about her. It shook the rich gold of her hair in wondrous soft shiny waves about her face, as she tried vainly to hold the little cap on her head. It was a sudden wild wind, such as one often encounters at sea, lasting only for a moment, but in that moment almost lifting one from the deck. The girl, who had been clinging breathlessly to the railing, turned toward Taka- shima, her cheeks aflame with excitement, and as the violent gust subsided, they smiled in each other's faces. Tom relented. CLEO. 13 •'Hallo! Takie — you there?" he said, cordially. "Thought you'd be laid up. You're a pretty good sailor, I see. ' ' Then he turned to the girl and said very solemnly and as if they had never even dis- cussed the subject of an introduction, "Cleo, this is my old college friend, Mr. Takashima — Takie, my cousin, Miss Ballard. ' ' "Will you tell me why, "said the young Japanese, very seriously, "you did not want that I should know your cousin?" "Don't mind Tom," the girl answered, with embarrassment, as that gentleman threw away his cigar deliberately ; and she saw by his face that he intended saying something that would mislead Takashima, for he had often told her of the direct, serious and strange questions the Japanese would ask, and how he was in the habit of leading him off the track, just for the fun of the thing, and because Takashima took everything so seriously. "Why— a—" said Tom, "the truth of the matter is — my cousin is a — a flirt!" "Tom!" said the girl, with flaming cheeks. "A flirt!" repeated the Japanese, half -musingly. "Ah! I do not like a flirt — that is not a nice word," he added, gently. "Tom is just teasing me," she said; and added, "But how did you know Tom did not want you to know me?" "I heard you tell him that you want to know me, and I puzzle much myself why he did not want." "I was sorry for you in advance, Takie," said Tom, wickedly, and then seeing by the girl's face M MISS NUME OF JAPAN. that she was getting seriously offended, he added : "Well, the truth is — er — Cleo — is — a so — young, don't you know. One can't introduce their female relatives to many of their male friends. You understand. That's how you put it to me once. " *'Yes!" said Takashima, "I remember that I tell you of that. Then I am most flattered to know your relative." As Tom moved off and left them together, feeling afraid to trust himself for fear he would make things worse, he heard the gentle voice of the Japanese saying very softly to the girl: "I am most glad that you do not flirt. I do not like that word. Is it American?" Tom chuckled to himself, and shook his fist, in mock threat, at Cleo. WHO CAN ANALYZE A COQUETTE? 15 CHAPTER III. WHO CAN ANALYZE A COQUETTE? Cleo Ballard was a coquette; such an alluring, bright, sweet, dangerous coquette. She could not have counted her adorers, because they would have included every one who knew her. Such a gay, happy girl as she was ; always looking about her for happiness, and finding it only in the admiration and adoration of her victims; for they were victims, after all, because, though they were generally will- ing to adore in the beginning, she nevertheless crushed their hopes in the end ; for that is the nature of coquettes. Hers was a strange, paradoxical nature. She would put herself out, perhaps go miles out of her way, for the sake of a new adorer, one whose heart she knew she would storm, and then perhaps break. She would do this gayly, thoughtlessly, as unscrupulously and impetuously as she tore the little silk gloves from her hands because they came not off easily. And yet, in spite of this, it broke her heart (and, after all, she had a heart) to see the meanest, the most insignificant of creatures in pain or trouble. With a laugh she pulled the heart-strings till they ached with pain and pleasure commingled ; but when the poor heart burst with the tension, then she would run shiver- ing away, and hide herself, because so long as she i6 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. did not see the pain she did not feel it. Who can analyze a coquette? Then, too, she was very beautiful, as all coquettes are. She had sun-kissed, golden-brown hair, — dark brown at night and in the shadow, bright gold in the daytime and in the light. Her eyes were dark blue, sombre, gentle eyes at times, wicked, mischievous, mocking eyes at others. Of the rest of her face, you do not need to know, for when one is young and has wonderful eyes, shiny, wavy hair and even features, be sure that one is very beautiful. Cleo Ballard was beautiful, with the charming, versatile, changeable, wholly fascinating beauty of an American girl — an American beauty. And now she had a new admirer, perhaps a new — lover. He was so different from the rest. It had been an easy matter for her to play with and turn off her many American adorers, because most of them went into the game of hearts with their eyes open, and knew from the first that the girl was but playing with them. But how was she to treat one who believed every word she said, whether uttered gayly or otherwise, and who, in his gentle, undisguised way, did not attempt, even from the beginning, to hide from her the fact that he admired her so intensely? Ever since the day Tom Ballard had introduced Takashima to her, he had been with her almost constantly. Among all the men, young and old, who paid her court on the steamer, she openly' favored the Japanese. Most Japanese have their li WHO CAN ANALYZE A COQUETTE? n said, his rom he full share of conceit. Takashima was not lacking in this. It was pleasant for him to be singled out each day as the one the beautiful American girl preferred to have by her. It pleased him that she did not laugh or joke so much when with him, but often became even as serious as he, and he even enjoyed hearing her snub some of her admirers for his sake. "Cleo," Tom Ballard said to her one day, as the Japanese left her side for a moment, "have mercy on Takashima; spare him, as thou wouldst be spared." She flushed a trifle at the bantering words, and looked out across the sea. "Why, Tom! he understands. Didn't you say he had lived eight years in America?" Tom sighed. "Woman! woman! incorrigible, unanswerable creature!" After a time Cleo said, almost pleadingly, as if she were trying to defend herself against some accusation : "Really, Tom, he is so nice. I can't help myself. You haven't the slightest idea how it feels to have any one — any one like that — on the verge of being in love with you. ' ' Takashima returned to them, and took his seat by the girl's side. "To-night," he told her, "they are going to dance on deck. The band will play a concert for us. ' ' Cleo smiled whimsically at his broken English, for, in spite of his long residence in America, he still tripped in his speech. i8 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. "Do you dance?" she asked, curiously. "No! I like better to watch with you." "But I dance," she put in, hastily. Takashima's face fell. He looked at her so dejectedly that she laughed. "Life is so serious to you, is it not, Mr. Takashima? Every little thing is of moment." He gravely agreed with her, looking almost sur- prised that she should consider this strange. "We are always taught," he said, gently, "that it is the little things of life which produce the big; that without the little we may not have the big. So, therefore, we Japanese measure even the small- est of things just as we do the large things." Cleo repeated this speech later to Tom, and an Englishman who had been paying her a good deal of attention. They both laughed, but she felt some, what ashamed of herself for repeating it. "I suppose, then, you will not dance," said the Englishman. Cleo did not specially like him. She intended fully to dance, that night, but a contrary spirit made her reply, "No; I guess I will not." She glanced over to where the young Japanese sat, a little apart from the others. His cap was pulled over his eyes, but the girl felt he had been watching her. She recrossed the deck and sat down beside him. "Will you be glad," she asked him, "when we reach Japan?" A shadow flitted for a moment across his face before he replied. "Yes, Miss Ballard, most glad. My country is WHO CAN ANALYZE A COQUETTE? ^9 very beautiful, and I wish very much to see my home and my relations again." "You do not look like most Japanese I have met," she said, slowly, studying his face with interest. "Your eyes are larger and your features more regular." "That is very polite that you say," he said. The girl laughed. "No! I didn't say it for politeness," she protested, "but because it is true. You are really very fine looking, as Tom would say;" she halted shyly for a moment, and then added, "for — for a Japanese." Takashima smiled. "Some of the Japanese do not have very small eyes. Very few of the Kazoku class have them. That it is more pretty to have them large we do not say in Japan." "Then," said the girl, mischievously, "you are not handsome in Japan." This time Takashima laughed outright. "I will try and be modest," he said. "There- fore, I will let you be the judge when we arrive there. If you think I am, as you say, handsome, then shall I surely be." is to MISS NUME OP JAPAN. CHAPTER IV. THE DANCE ON DECK. That evening the decks presented a gala appear- ance. On every available place, swung clear across the deck, were Japanese and Chinese lanterns and flags of every nation. The band commenced play- ing even while they were yet at dinner, and the strains of music floated into the dining-room, acting as an appetizer to the passengers, and giving them anticipation of the pleasant evening in store. About seven o'clock the guests, dressed in evening costume, began to stroll on deck, and as the dark- ness slowly chased away the light, the pat of dainty feet mingled with the strains of music, the sough of the sea and the sigh of the wind. Lighted solely by the moon and the swinging lanterns, the scene on deck was as beautiful as a fairyland picture. Cleo Ballard was not dancing. She was sitting back in a sheltered corner with Takashima. Her eyes often wandered to the gay dancers, and her little feet at times could scarcely keep still. Yet it was of her own free will that she was not dancing. When she had first come on deck she was soon sur- rounded with eager young men ready to be her partners in the dance. The girl had stood laugh- ingly in their midst, answering this one with saucy wit and repartee, snubbing that one (when he 1 1 THE DANCE ON DECK. 31 deserved it), and looking nameless things at others. And as she stood there laughing and talking gayly, a girl had passed by her and made some light remark. She did not catch the words. A few moments after she saw the same girl sitting alone with Takashima, and there was a curiously stub- born look about Cleo's eyes when she turned them away. "Don't bother me, boys," she said. "I don't believe I want to dance just yet. Perhaps later, when it gets dark. I believe I'll sit down for a while anyhow." She found her way to where Takashima and Miss Morton were sitting. Miss Morton was talking very vivaciously, and the Japanese was answering absently. As Cleo came behind him and rested her hand for a moment on the back of his deck- chair, he started. "Ah, is it you?" he said, softly. "Did you not say that you would dance?" "It is a little early yet," the girl answered. "See, the sun has not gone down yet. Let us watch it." They drew their deck-chairs quite close to the guard-rail, and watched the dying sunset. "It is the most beautiful thing on earth," said Cleo Ballard, and she sighed vaguely. The Japanese turned and looked at her in the semi-darkness. "Nay! you are more beautiful," he said, and his face was eloquent in its earnestness. The girl turned her head away. 8 aa MISS NUME OF JAPAN. "Tell me about the women in Japan," she said, changing the subject. "Are not they very beau- tiful?" Takashima's thoughtful face looked out across the ocean waste. "Yes," he said slowly; "I have always thought so. Still, none of them is as beau- tiful as you are — or — or — as kind," he added, hesitatingly. The man's homage intoxicated Cleo. She knew all the men worth knowing on board — had known many of them in America. She had tired, bored herself, flirting with them. It was a refreshment to her now to wake the admiration — the sentiment — of this young Japanese, because they had told her he always concealed his emotions so skillfully. Not for a moment did she, even to herself, admit that it was more than a mere passing fancy she had for him. She could not help it that he admired her, she told herself, and admiration and homage were to her what the sun and rain is to the flowers. That Takashima could never really be anything to her she knew full well; and yet, with a woman's perversity, she was jealous even at the thought that any other woman should have the smallest thought from him. It is strange, but true, that a woman often demands the entire homage and love of a man she does not herself actually love, and only because of the fact that he does love her. She resents even the smallest wavering of his allegiance to her, even though she herself be impossible for him. It was because she fancied she saw a rival in Miss Morton that for a moment she became possessed of a wish lii! id, lU- >ss ve u- d, w m id to )f [6 >r it T ■ » e 3 t t THE DANCE ON DECK. ,- witThir"" '™ **"'"'^' =° '-^ - <">« would be When Miss Morton, who soon perceived th»f ., Liicrn, i^ieo turned and said, verv sw^^^fKr. "m don t mention it. ' ' ^ "^ ' ^^^^^^ I •H MISo NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER V. HEP GENTLE ENEMY. Enemies are often easier made than friends. Fanny Morton was not an agreeable enemy to have. She was one of those women who were con- stantly on the look-out for objects of interest. She was interested in Takashima, as was nearly every one who met him. In the first place, Takashima was a desirable person to know; a graduate of Harvard University, of irreproachable manners, and high brsieding, wealthy, cultured, and even good-looking. Moreover, the innate goodness and purity of the young man's character were re- flected in his face. In fact, he was a most desir- able person to know for those who were bound for the Land of Sunrise. That he could secure them the entree to all desirable places in Japan, they knew. For this reason if for no other Takashima was popular, but it was more on account of the genuineness of the young man, and his gentle courtesy to every one, that the passengers sought him out and made much of him on the steamer. And it was partly because he was so popular that Cleo Ballard, with the usual vanity of woman, found him doubly interesting. In his gentle w^y he had retained all of them as his friends, in spite of the fact that he had attached himself almost entirely to HER GENTLE ENEMY. 25 Miss Ballard. On the other hand, the girl had suffered a good deal from the malicious jealousy of some of the women passengers, who made her a target for all their spite and spleen. But she enjoyed it rather than otherwise. "Most people do not like me as well as you do, Mr. Takashima," she said once. He had looked puzzled a moment, and she had added, "That is because I don't like everybody. You ought to feel flattered that I like you. ' ' Fanny Morton could not forgive Cleo the half-cut of the evening of the hop. A few days afterwards she said to a group of women as they lay back in their deck-chairs, languidly watching the restless waves, "I wonder what Cleo Ballard's little game is with young Takashima?" She had told them of the conversation on deck, of the young Japanese's peculiar familiarity and hom- age in addressing her, and of the flowery, though earnest, compliments he had paid her. "She must be in love with him," one of the party volunteered. "No, she is not," contradicted an old acquaint- ance of Cleo's, "because Cleo could not be in love with any one. The girl never had any heart. " "I thought she was engaged to Arthur Sinclair, and was going out to join him in Tokyo," put in an anxious-looking little woman who had spent almost the entire voyage on her back, being troubled with a fresh convulsion of seasickness every time the sea got the least bit rough. It is wonderful what a lot of information is often to be got out of one of these ? 26 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. I linvalids. During the greater part of the voyage they merely listen to all about them, and, as a rule, the rest are inclined to regard them as so many dummies. Then, toward the close of the voyage, they will surprise you with their [knowledge on a question that has never been settled. "That is news," said Cleo's old acquaintance, sitting up in her chair, and regarding the little woman with undisguised amazement. "Wlio told you, my dear?" "I thought I heard her discussing it with her cousin the other day," the woman answered, with visible pleasure that she was now an object of interest. "My dear," repeated the old acquaintance once more, settling her ample form in the canvas chair, "really, I must have been stupid not to have guessed this. Why, of course, I understand now. That was what all that finery meant in Washington, I suppose. That is why her mother has been so mysteriously uneasy about Cleo's — and I must say it now — outrageous flirtation with the Japanese. Every time she has been able to come on deck — and, poor thing, it has not been often through the voyage so far — she has called Cleo away from Mr. Takashima, and I've even heard her reprove her, and remonstrate with her. Well! well!" Fanny Morton was smiling as she stole away from the party. A VEILED HINT. 27 CHAPTER VI. A VEILED HINT. Always, after dinner, the young Japanese would come on deck, having generally finished his meal before most of the others, and rarely sitting through the eight or ten courses. Like the rest of his countrymen, he was a passionate lover of nature. Sunsets are more beautiful at sea, when they kiss and mirror their wonderful beauty in the ocean, than anywhere else, p?^ !:aps. Fannie Morton found him in his favorite seat — back against a small alcove, his small, daintily manicured fingers resting on the back of a chair in front of him. She pulled a chair along the deck, and sat down beside him. "You are selfish, Mr. Takashima," she said, "to enjoy the sunset all alone." "Will you not enjoy it also?" he asked, quite gravely. "I like much better, though," he con- tinued, seeing that she had come up more to talk than to enjoy the sunset, "to look at the skies and the water rather than to talk. It is most strange, but one does not care to talk as much at sea as on land when the evenings advance." "And yet," Miss Morton said, "I have often heard Miss Ballard's voice conversing with you in the evening. ' ' 1 1 I % ifi 48 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. The Japanese was silent a moment. Then he said, very simply and honestly, '*Ah, yes, but I would rather hear her voice than all else on earth. She is different to me." The girl reddened a trifle impatiently. "Most men love flirts," she said, sharply. The Japanese smiled quietly, confidently. "Yes, perhaps," he said, vaguely, purposely misleading her. Tom Ballard's hearty voice broke in on them. "Well," he said, cheerfully, "thought I'd find Cleo with you, Takie, ' ' and then, smiling gallantly at Miss Morton, "but really, I see you've got 'metal more attractive.' " He winked, and continued, "Cousins are privileged beings. Can say lots of things no one else dare." Fanny Morton's face brightened. She was a pretty girl, with pale brown hair, and a bright, sharp face. "Oh, now, Mr. Ballard, you are flattering. What would Miss Cleo say?" Tom scratched his head. "She would prove, I dare say, that I was — a — lying. ' ' The play on words had been entirely lost on Takashima, who had become absorbed in his own reveries. Then Miss Morton's sharp words caught his ear, and he turned to hear what she was saying. She had mentioned the name of an old American friend of his, who had gone to Japan some years before. "I suppose," Miss Morton had said, "she will be pretty glad when the voyage is over." She had ii A VEILED HINT. 29 paused here, and Tom had prompted her with a quick query, "Why?" "Oh! for Arthur Sinclair's sake," she had retorted, and laughingly left them. Casually, Tom turned to Takashima. "Remem- ber Sinclair, Takie? Great big fellow at Harvard — in for all the races — rowing— everything going — in fact, all-round fine fellow?" "Yes." "Nice— fellow." "Yes." "Er — Cleo — that is, both Cleo and I, are old friends of his, you know. ' ' Takashima's face was still enigmati::al. Cleo had had a headache that evening, and had returned to her stateroom after dinner. The water was rough, and few of the passengers remained on deck. Quite late in the evening, Tom went up. The sombre, silent figure of the Japanese was still there. He had not moved. "Past eleven," Tom called out to him, and the gently modulated voice of the Japanese answered, "Yes; I will retire soon." ht )e id 30 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER VII. JEALOUSY WITHOUT LOVE. The next day Cleo rallied Takashima because he was unusually quiet, and asked him the cause. He turned and looked at her very directly. "Will you tell me, Miss Ballard," he said, "why Mr. Sinclair will be so overjoyed that you come to Japan?" The abrupt question startled the girl. She flushed a violent, almost angry red, and for a moment did not reply. Then she recovered herself and said: "He is a very dear friend of ours." The Japanese looked thoughtfully at her. There was an embarrassed flush on her face. Again he questioned her very directly, still with his eyes on her face. "Tell me, Miss Ballard, also, do you flirt only with me?" Cleo's face was averted a moment. With an effort she turned toward him, a light answer on the tip of her tongue. Something in the earnest, questioning gaze of the young man held her a moment and changed her gay answer. Her voice was very low : "No," she said. "Please don't believe that of me." She understood that some one had been trying to \\ JEALOUSY WITHOUT LOVE. 31 l\ poison him against her. Her eyes were dewy — with self-pity, perhaps, for at that moment the coquette in her was subdued, and the natural liking, almost sentiment, she had for Takashima was para- mount. A silence fell between them. Takashima broke it after a while to say, very gently: "Will you for jive me. Miss Ballard?" "There is nothing to forgive." "Ah! yes," said Takashima, sadly, "because I have misjudged you so?" His voice was raised in a half-question. The girl's eyes were suffused. * ' Let us not talk of it any more, ' * he continued, noticing her distress and embarrassment. "I will draw your chair back here and we will talk. What will we talk of? Of America— of Japan? Of you — and of myself?" "My life has been uninteresting," she said; "let us not talk of it to-night, — but tell me about yours instead. You must have some very pretty remem- brances of Japan. Eight years is not such a long time, after all." "No; that is true, and yet one may become almost a different being during that time." He paused thoughtfully. "Still, I have many beautiful remembrances of my home — all my memories, in fact, are sweet of it. ' ' Again he paused to think, and continued slowly: "I will also have beautiful memories of America. ' ' "Yes, but they will be different," said the girl, "for, of course, America is not your home." "One often, though, becomes homesick — let us call it — for a country which is not our own, but 32 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. M I ' where we have sojourned for a time," he rejoined, quickly. "Then, if Japan is as beautiful as they say it is, I will doubtless be longing for it when I return to America." A flush stole to the young man's eager face. "Ah! Miss Ballard, perhaps if you will say that when you have lived there a while, I might find courage to say that which I cannot say now. I would wish first of all to know how you like my home." The girl put her hands at the back of her head, and leaned back in the deck-chair with a sudden nervous movement. "Let us wait till then," she said, hastily. "Tell me now, instead, what is your most beautiful memory of Japan?" "My pleasantest memory," he said, "is of a little girl named Nume. She was only ten years old when I left home, but she was bright and beautiful as the wild birds that fly across the valleys and make their home close by where we lived." A flush had risen to the girl's face. She stirred nervously, and there was a slight faltering in her speech as she said: "Tom once told me of her — he said you had told him — that you had told him — you were betrothed to her. ' ' She had expected hxm to look abashed for a moment, but his face was as calm as ever. "I will not know that till I am home. My plans are unformed." He looked in her face. "They depend a great deal on /^«, ' ' he continued. I JEALOUSY WITHOUT LOVE. 3$ For a moment the girl's lips half-parted to tell him of her own betrothal, but she could not summon the courage to do so while he looked at her with such confidence and trust; besides, her woman's vanity was touched. "Tell me about Numb," she said, and there was the least touch of pique in her voice. "Her father and mine are neighbors, and very dear friends. I have known her all my life. When she was a little girl I used to carry her on my shoulders over brooks and through the woods and mountain passes, because she was so little, and I was always afraid she would fall and hurt her.self. " Cleo was silent now. She scarcely stirred while the young man was speaking, but listened to him with strange interest. Takashima continued: "I used to tell her I would some day be her Otto (hus- band), and because she was so very fond of me that pleased her very much, and when I said so to our fathers, it pleased them also." The girl was nervously twisting her little hand- kerchief into odd knots. She was not looking at Takashima. "How queer," she said, "that our childhood memories are sometimes so clear to us! We so often look back on them and think how — how absurd we were then. Don't you think there is really more in the past to regret than anything else?" Takashima looked at her in surprise. "No," he said, almost shortly, "I have nothing to regret." "And yet," she persisted, "neither of you w^as 34 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. old enough to — to care for the other truly." Her words were irrelevant, and she knew it. "We were inseparable always," the young man answered. *'We were children, both of us, but in Japan very often we are always children — always young in heart." Cleo could not have told why she felt the sudden overwhelm*, g rebellion against his allegiance to Num^, even though she knew only too well that Takashima's heart was safe in her own keeping. With a woman's perversity and delight in being constantly assured of his love for her in various ways, in dwelling on it to feed her vanity, and yes, in wishing to hear the man who loved her disclaim — even ridicule— one whom in the past he might have cared for, she said : "Do you love her?" "Love?" the Japanese repeated, dwelling softly on the word. "That is not the word now. Miss Ballard. I have only known its meaning since I have met you," he added, gently. The girl's heart beat with a pleasurable wildness. It was sweet to hear these words from the lips of one who hesitated always so deferentially from speaking his feelings; from one who a moment before had filled her with a fear that, after all, another might interest him just as she had done; for coquettes are essentially selfish. "You will not marry her?" she questioned, in a low voice. She could not restrain the almost pleading tone that crept into her voice ; for though she kept tell- JEALOUSY WITHOUT LOVE. 35 ing herself that they could never be anything to each other, and that she already loved another, yet, after all, was she so sure of her heart? The Japanese was silent. "That will depend," he said, slowly. "It is the wish of our fathers. They have always looked forward to it." His voice was very sad as he added: "Perhaps I should grow to love her. Surely, I would try, at least, to do my duty to my parents. ' ' With a sudden effort the girl rose to her feet. "It would be a cruel thing to do," she said, "cruel for her and for you. It would be fair to no cvne. You do not love; therefore, you should not marry her." Her beautiful eyes challenged him. A wild hope crept into the Japanese's heart that the girl must surely return his feeling for her, or she would not speak so. He was Americanized, and man of the world enough, to understand somewhat of these things. He purposely misled her, taking pleasure in the girl's evident resentment at his marriage with Num^. "I would never marry a man I did not love," she continued. "No! I would have to love him with my whole heart. ' ' "It is different in Japan," he said, quietly. "There we do not always marry for love, but rather to please the parents. We try always to love after marriage — and often we succeed." "Your customs are — are — barbarous, then," Cleo said, defiantly. "We in America could not under- stand them." There was a vague reproach now in her voice. The Japanese had risen also. He was smiling, as 36 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. he looked at the girl. Perhaps she felt uncon- sciously the tenderness of that look, for she turned her own head away persistently. "Miss Ballard," he said, softly,— "Miss Cleo— I do not disagree with you, after all, as you think. It is true, as you say — there should be no marriage without love. ' ' "And yet you are willing to follow the ancient customs of your country," she said, half-pettishly — almost scornfully. "I did not say that," he said, smiling. "Yes, but you make one believe it," she said. "I did not mean to. I wanted only that you should believe that it might be so for my father's sake, if — if the one I did love was — impossible to me. ' ' There was a piercing passion in his voice that she had not thought him capable of. One of those inexplicable, sudden waves of gentleness and tenderness that sometimes sweep over a woman, came over her. She turned and faced Takashima with a look on her face that would have made the coldest lover's heart throb with delight and hope. "You must be always sure — always sure she is — she is impossible." She was appalled at her own words as soon as they were uttered. The Japanese had taken a step nearer to her. He half held his hands out. "I am going below, " she said, with sudden fright, "I — I — indeed, I don't know what I'm talking about." THE MAN SHE DID LOVE. 37 CHAPTER VIII. THE MAN SHE DID LOVE. When she reached her stateroom, she threw her- self on the couch, being overcome by a sudden weakness. She could not understand nor recognize herself. It was impossible that she was in love with Takashima, for she already loved another; and yet she could not understand why she should feel so keenly about Takashima, nor why it hurt her, — the idea of his caring for any one else. Was it merely the selfishness and vanity of a coquette? Cleo could scarcely remember a time, since she was old enough to understand that man was woman's natural play- thing, that she had not thoughtlessly and gayly coquetted, flirted and led on all the men who had dared to fall in love with her. There was so seldom a real pang with her, because she had seldom per- mitted any affair to go beyond a certain length. That is, almost from the beginning she would let them know that her heart was not touched — that she was merely playing with them, because she could not help being a flirt. Then Arthur Sinclair had come into her life. As she thought of him a wonderful tenderness stole over her face, a tender- ness that Takashima had never been able to call there. It had been a case of love on her side almost from 38 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. the first night they had met. But with the man it was different; and nprhaps it was because of the fact that he at first 1 been almost indifferent to her, that the girl o had wearied of the over- attention of the other men, who had loved her unquestioningly, and whose love had been such an easy thing to win, specially picked him out as the one man to whom she could give her heart. How often it happens that she who has been loved and courted by every one, should actually love the only one who perhaps had been almost indifferent to her ! True, Sinclair had paid her a good deal of attention from the beginning, but it was because he admired her solely on account of her beautiful face, and because she was popular everywhere with every one, and it touched his vanity that she should single him out. Later, the girl's wonderful charm had grown on him ; and one night when they stood on the conserv- atory balcony of her home, when the moon's kindly rays touched her head and lighted her face with an almost wild beauty, when the perfume of the roses in her breast and hair had stolen into his senses, and the great speaking eyes told the story of her heart, Sinclair had told her he loved her. He had told her so with a wild passion ; had told her so at a time when, a moment before, he had not himself known it. That she was wonderfully beautiful he had always known, but he had thought himself proof against her. He was not. It came to him that night — the knowledge of an overmastering love for her that had suddenly possessed him — a love THE MAN SHE DID LOVE. 39 that was so unexpected and violent in its coming, that half of its passion was spent in that one glorious first night, when she had answered his passionate declaration solely by holding her hands out to him, and he had drawn her into his arms. Sinclair had returned to his rooms that night almost dazed. Did he love her? he asked himself. A memory came back of the girl's wonderful beauty, of the love that had reflected itself in her eyes and had beautified them so. And yet he had seen her often so — she had always been beautiful, but before that he had been unable to call up any- thing more than strong admiration of her beauty. Was it not that he had drank too much wine that night? No! he seldom did that. It was the girl's beauty and the knowledge that she loved him that had turned his head ; it was the wine too, perhaps, and the surroundings, the moonlight, the flowers, their fragrance — everything combined. And then, having thought confusedly over the whole thing, Arthur Sinclair had risen to his feet and walked restlessly up and down his room — because he was not sure of his own heart after all. Cleo Ballard had known nothing of this struggle he had had with himself. After that night he had been an ideal lover, — always considerate, gentle, and tender. The girl's imperious nature had melted under the great love that had come into her life. She ceased for a time to be a coquette. Then she was only a loving, tender woman. It was hardly a month after this that Sinclair was appointed American Vice-Consul at Kyoto, Japan. 40 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. He had told Cleo very gently of the appointment, and they had discussed their future together. It meant separation for a time, for Sinclair did not urge an early marriage, and Cleo Ballard was perhaps too proud to want it. "We will marry," Sinclair had said, "when I am thoroughly established, when I have something to offer you — when I can afford to keep my wife as I would like to keep you." The girl had answered with half-quivering lip: "Neither of us is poor now, Arthur;" and Sinclair had answered, hastily, "Yes, but I had better make a place in the world for myself first — get estab- lished, you see, dear. We don't need to hurry. We have lots of time yet. ' ' Cleo had remained silent. "When I am settled I will send for you to join me, dear," Sinclair had added, "if you are willing to come." "Willing!" she had answered, with indignant passion. "Oh, Arthur, I am willing to go anywhere where you are. ' ' Her mother's illness, soon after this, absorbed Cleo for a time, so that when Sinclair left her, the date of their marriage still remained unsettled. That was three years before. Since then the girl had kept up an almost constant correspondence with Sinclair. His letters were like him, tender and loving, almost boyish in their tone of joyousness, for Sinclair liked his new home and position so much that he wanted to remain there altogether. He wrote to Cleo, asking if she would not now come to t THK MAN SHE DID LOVE. 41 .^: %. Japan and judge for them, and if she liked the country they would live there altogether; if not — they would return to America. The girl's pride had long been roused in her, and but for her love for Sinclair she might have given him up long before. But always the overmastering love she had for him kept her waiting, waiting on for him — waiting for him to send for her as he had promised he would. It is true, she had grown used to his absence, and often tried to console herself with the homage and love given by others, but it could not be — her heart turned always back to the man she had loved from the first, and even the little flirtations she indulged in were half-hearted. Some- times Sinclair's letters showed a trace of haste and carelessness, often they were almost cold and per- functory. At such times she would plunge into a round of reckless gayety, and try to forget for the time being her unsatisfied longing and love. And now she was on her way to join him. The voyage was long, and would have been tedious had it not been for Takashima. He gave her a new interest. Most of the other passengers she found uninterest- ing. Sinclair's last letters, although speaking of her trip, and seemingly iirging her to come, appeared to her, sometimes, almost forced. The girl's proud, spoiled heart rebelled. It was with a feeling as much of hunger for sympathy and love, as of coquetry, that she had started her acquaint- ance with Takashima, and now as she lay in the narrow little couch in her room, she was asking her heart with a sudden fear whether her hunger for I 42 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. love had overpowered her. She was of a passion- ate, intense nature. It galled her always that she was separated from the man she loved, — that she could not at once have by her the love he had pro- tested he felt for her. She buried her face in the pillows and sobbed bitterly. With a passionate nervousness, she thrust his picture away from her, and tried to think, instead, of Takashima, the gentle young Japanese who now loved her — not as Sinclair i:ad done, with a passion of a moment that swept h'^x from her feet, but with deference and respect, anil v'»t ^-ith as strong a love as she could have Oesirc. MERELY A WOMAN. 43 CHAPTER IX. MERELY A WOMAN. Even a woman in love can put behind her easily, for a time, the image of the one she at heart loves, when she replaces it with one for whom she cares (not, perhaps, in the same wild way as for the other, but with a sentiment that is tantamount to a flickering, wavering love — a love of a moment, a love awakened by gentle words — and perhaps put away from her after she has reasoned it out to her- self) ; for it is true that the best cure for love is to try to love another. Cleo Ballard was not heartless. She was merely a woman. That is why, half an hour after she had wept so passionately, she was smiling at her own beautiful face in the mirror, as she brushed her long wavy hair before it. She was thinking of Takashima, and of his love for her, which he could not summon the courage to tell her of, and which she tried always to prevent his doing. There was a stubborn, half pettish look on her face when she thought of his possible love for "the Japanese girl." * ' Even if I cannot be anything to him, ' ' she told herself, remorselessly, "still, if he does not love her, I'm doing both a kindness in preventing his marry- ing her." 44 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. i'X She paused in her toilet, and sat down a moment to think. "I can't analyze my own feelings," she said, half- fretfuUy. "I don't see why I should feel so — so bad at the idea of his — his caring for any one else. I am not in love with him. That is foolish. A woman cannot be in love with two men at once. ' ' She smiled. "How strange! I believe it is true, though, and yet — and yet — if it is so — how differ- ently I care for them ! ' ' She rose again, and commenced twisting her hair up. "Oh, how provoking it is! I don't believe there are many girls who would admit it — and yet it is true — that we can love one man and be 'in love' with another." She pushed the last pin into her hair impatiently. "I believe if it were not for the fact that he — that he — might really care for some one else — I'd give him up now, but somehow, as it is — Oh! how selfish — how mean I am!" She stopped talking to herself, and opening the door called out to her mother in the next room : "Mother dear, are you dressing for dinner yet?" The mother's weak voice answered: "No, dear; I shall not be at the table to-night. ' ' "Oh, mother, I want you with me to-night," she said, regretfully, going into her mother's room, "You want me with you?" said the mother, with mild astonishment. "Why, my dear, I thought— you usually like being alone — or — or with Mr. — er — with the Japanese." "Not to-night, mother — not to-night," she said, MERELY A WOMAN. 45 and put her head down on her mother's neck with a half-caress, a habit she had had when a little girl, and which sometimes returned to her when in a loving mood. "I don't understand myself to-night, mother," she whispered. The peevish, nervous tones of the invalid mother repulsed her. "My dear, do not ruffle my hair so — There! go on to the dining-room like a good girl. And do^ dear, be careful. I am so afraid of your becoming too fond of this — this Japanese. You are always talk- ing about him now, and Tom says you are insepa- rable on deck. ' ' The girl raised her head, and rose from her kneeling posture beside her mother. There was a cold glint in her eyes. "Really, mother, you need not fear for me," she said, coldly. "Tom only says things for the sake of hearing himself talk — you ought to know better than to mind him. ' ' "We are so near Japan now," the mother said, peevishly, "and we have waited three years. I am not strong enough to stand anything like — like the breaking of your engagement now. My heart is quite set on Sinclair, dear — you must not disappoint me. "Mother — I — ," the girl commenced, in a pained voice, but the mother interrupted her to add, as she settled back in her pillows, "There, there, my dear, don't fly out at me — I understand — I really can trust you." There was a touch of tenderness mingled f I,' 46 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. with the pride in the last hard words: "You always knew how to carry your heart, my dear. ' ' The girl remained silent for a moment, looking bitterly at her mother; after awhile her face soft- ened a trifle. She leaned over her once more and kissed the faded face. ' ' Mother, mother— you really are fond of me, are you not?— let us be kinder to each other." 4' 1 'i I »'■! "WATCHING THE NIGHT." 47 CHAPTER X. ^ "WATCHING THE NIGHT." It was quite a wistful, sad-faced girl who took her seat at the table, and answered, half absently, the light jests of some of the passengers. Tom's sharp ears missed her usual merry tone. He glanced keenly at her, as she sat beside him, eating her dinner in almost absolute silence. "What's up, Cleo?" "Nothing, Tom." "Don't fib, now. Yoa are not in the habit of wearing such a countenance for nothing. ' ' "I can't help my countenance, Tom, " she rejoined, with just a suggestion of a break in her voice. Tom looked at her a moment in silence, and then delicately turned his head away. After dinner he took her arm very affectionately, and they strolled out on deck together. Takashima was sitting alone, as they came out. He was waiting for Cleo, as usual, and had been watching the door of the dining-room expectantly. Tom drew her off in a different direction from where the Japanese was sitting. For a short time they walked up and down the deck, neither of them speaking a word. Then Tom broke the silence, saying carelessly, as he lit a cigar; "Mind my smoking, sis?" I V i i 48 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. "No, Tom," the j^irl answered, looking at him gratefully. Instinctively she felt the ready sym- pathy he always extended to her, often hout even knowing her trouble, and seldom asKing for her confidence. When she was worried or distressed about anything, Tom would take her very firmly away from every one, and if she had anything to tell she usually told it to him ; for since they had been little girl and boy together Tom had been the recipient of all her woes. When he was a little boy of twelve, his father and mother both having died, Cleo's father, his uncle, had taken him into his family, and the two children had been brought up together. After the death of his uncle he ha "* stood to the mother and Cleo as father, brother, '' son in one, and they both became very depeuu ...t on him. Once in a while when he was feeling excep- tionally loving to Cleo he would call her "little sis. " That night he did so very lovingly. "Feeling blue, little sis?" he asked. "Yes, Tom." Tom cleared his throat. "Er — er — Takashima?" "No, Tom — it is not he. It is mother." Tom stopped in his walk, and made a half-impa- tient exclamation. "Oh, Tom, I do want to love her so much — but — but she won't let me. I mean — she is fond of me, and — and — proud, I suppose, but whenever I try to get close to her she repulses me in some way. We ought to be a comfort to each other, but — but there is scarcely any feeling between us." She caught her breath. "Tom, I don't know what's the matter "WATCHING THE NIGHT." 49 with me to-night. I — I — Oh, Tom, I do want a little sympathy so much." The young- man threw his lighted cigar away. He did not answer Cleo, but he drew her little hand closer through his arm. After a time the girl quieted down, and her voice had lost its restlessness when she said: "Dear Tom — you are so good." They strolled slowly back in the moonlight to where Takashima was sitting. He was leaning- over the railing, watching the dark waves beneath in their silvery, shimmering splendor, touched by the moon's rays. He turned as Tom called out to him: "See a— a whale, Takie?' "No; I was merely watching the — the night." Cleo raise' her head and smiled at Tom, both of them enjoying the Japanese's naive way of answer- ing. "I was watching the night." he repeated, "and thinking of Miss Cleo. We generally enjoy such sights together. ' ' "Well, to-night I thought I had a lien on her for a change," Tom said. "Cleo is too popular to be monopolized by one person, you know." The Japanese smiled — a happy, confident smile. It touched the girl, and she said, impetuously: "Tom, it always depends on who has the monopoly. ' ' Tom answered with mock sternness: "Very well, madam ; I leave you and Takie to the tender mercies of each other." "Your cousin likes you very much, does he not?" the Japanese asked her, as Tom moved away. I 50 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. 1 i ! ill if u "Yes; Tom is the best boy in the world. I don't know what I'd do without him." She leaned her head against the railing. His next quiet, meaning words startled her: "Would you wish to marry with him?" She laughed outright; for she perceived the first touch of jealousy he harl 'ihown in these words. She lifted her little chin in its old saucy fashion. "No — not if Tom was the only man in the world. It would be too much like marrying one's brother." She smiled at the anxious face of the Japanese, He bent over her chair a moment, then he drew back and stood against the rail, in a still indecisive posture. The girl knew instinctively what he wanted to say. Perhaps it was because she was tired, and her heart was hungry for a little love, that she did not try to prevent him from speaking. "This afternoon, Miss Ballard, your words gave me courage. Will you marry with ;«^.^" he asked. The question was so direct she could not evade it. She must face it out now. Yet she could find no words to answer at first. The effort it had cost the Japanese to say this had made him constrained, for he had all the pride of a Japanese gentleman ; and after all he was not so sure that the girl would accept him. He had been told it was customary in America to speak to the girl herself before speaking to the parents, and it was in a stiff, ceremonious way that he did so. He waited silently for her answer. "Don't let us talk about — about such things," she said; and again there was that little break in her voice that had been there when Tom had walked with her. "Our — our friendship has been so Iff 1 1 "WATCHING THE NIGHT." 51 ^^|^^!|tful,"she added; "don't let us break it just For the first time since she had known him there was a note of sternness in Takashima's voice ^ "Love should not break friendship," he said. It should rather cement it. * ' The wind blew her hair wildly about her face and m her restlessness it irritated her. She put her hands up and held back the light, soft curls that had escaped. ''Shall I speak to your mother?" he asked her No!-No!" she said, quickly; "mother has-has nothmgto do with it." "Will you not tell me what to expect, then>" Ihe sadness of his voice touched the girl's heart brmgmg the tears to her eyes. "I cannot answer yet. Wait till we get to Japan Please wait till then." "^ ^ ''I tried to plan ahead," he said, "but you are njrht, Miss Ballard. You will want some time to think this over. It will be but five days now before we reach Japan. If that you are very kind to me in those five days my heart shall take great hope of what your answer will be." t w^ H Sa MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER XL AT THE JOURNEY'S END. Cleo Ballard could not have told what it was that made her so restless, almost feverish, during those remaining five days. She knew Takashima had meant to ask her to show in some way, during that time, just what he might expect. It was a^^ost a prayer to her to spare him, if she knew it was in vain. But the girl was possessed, during those days, with an almost feverish longing for his com- panionship and sympathy. She showed it con- stantly when with him ; she would look unspeakable longings into his eyes, longings she could not understand or analyze herself ; she led him on to talk of his plans, and he even told her of some wherein he had counted on her companionship — how he would have a Japanese-American house — a home wherein both the beauty of Japan and the comfort of America would be combined; and of the trips they would take to Europe, and the friends they would make. He used the word "we" always, in speaking, and she never once questioned his right to do so. Often she herself grew so interested in his plans for the future that she made suggestions, and they laughed with light-hearted joyousness at the prospect. At the end of the five days Takashima had not even a lingering doubt left. As the shores of his home came into view, and the AT THE JOURNEY'S END. 53 passengers were all clustered on deck watching the speck of land in the offing grow larger and larger as they approached it, the young Japanese placed his hand firmly on Cleo's — so soft and slender — and said: "Soon we will reach home now — your home and mine." A sudden vague fear crept into the girl's heart. She shivered as his hand touched hers, and there was a frightened, almost hunted, look in her eyes. "Shall I have my answer now?" he continued. Again she shivered. "Wait till we are on shore," she pleaded, "till we have rested; wait five more days — I must think — I — I " "Ah, Miss Cleo, yes, I will wait," he said, gently. "Surely, I can afford to do so. It is after all merely the formal answer I will ask for. These last days you have already answered me — with your beautiful eyes. ' ' "Tom," the girl said, desperately, as the passen- gers were passing from the boat on to the dock below, and her cousin was tying the heavy straps around their loose baggage, "Oh, Tom — I am afraid now — I am afraid of — of Takashima. ' ' Tom's usually sympathetic face was almost stern. He rose stiffly and looked at the girl remorselessly. "I warned you, Cleo," he said; "I told you to be careful. You ought to have answered him directly five days ago, when he spoke to you. You are the greatest moral coward I know. I believe you could not summon pluck enough to refuse anybody. Don't know how you ever did. It is a wonder you are not engaged to a dozen at once. ' ' 54 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. ; 1 I !i ■8 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. tell him of different home matters which she thought would interest him ; but after listening for a while to his monosyllabic answers she stopped talking and turned her head away with the old pique and distrust. The distrust or pain of one we love very dearly cuts like a knife and wrings the heart, but where we do not love it irritates. It had always been so with Sinclair. When, during their engage- ment in America, the girl had shown resentment or anger against him for any cause, it had always had the effect of making him nervous, sometimes almost imkind. On the other hand, when she had put her entire trust in him, believed in and loved him unquestioningly, he seldom could find the heart to undeceive her. Now, as he looked at her pained, averted face, he felt only a vague weariness, almost a dislike for her. There was a touch of impatience in his voice: "What is the matter now, Cleo?" "Nothing," the girl answered, proudly. "Only I thought perhapr- you'd rather not hear me talk. You do not answer wl m I ask you anything, and I don't think you even hear what I say." "Don't let us quarrel already, Cleo." The girl melted. "No!" she said; and her feel- ings choked her. "How is your mother?" he asked, mechanically. She rose from beside him. "Come and see mother, Arthur. She is not at all well, and was quite put out about your not meeting us. ' ' They passed into the mother's room together, and Sinclair was soon forced to listen to the querulous reproaches of the invalid. I ^ THE MEETING. 79 CHAPTER XIX. CONFIDENCES. A few days later the Davises, together with sev- eral other Americans, swooped down, en masse, on Cleo, and she soon found herself surrounded by old acquaintances and friends. Mrs. Davis had heard of her arrival from Takashima, and had come to her at once. The two friends had so much to say to each other that Cleo was in a happy frame of mind. Sinclair had spent the former day entirely with her, and had been as tender and thoughtful as of old. After the first constraint had worn off and they had grown more used to each other, and the man had settled the matter with himself that she was the woman with whom he Wi.ii to spend the rest of his life, he had called up all the gentleness and tender- ness he could summon. If it was a poor substitute for love, it was, nevertheless, more welcome to the hungry heart of the girl than the indifference she had fancied she had detected, and v/hich she now told herself was imaginary. "My dear," said Mrs. Davis, "you must come and spend a few days with me at my house. I have such a pretty place — quite a little way from the city, and in the most charming spot imaginable. The house is large encnigh, almost to be one of our own. I had wings built onto it after I had been there 8o MISS NUME OF JAPAN. Hi awhile, and really, it is so much more comfortable and homelike than the hotel. " "Indeed, I will come," Cleo answered. "Jenny — I want to see everything there is to see here. You know Arthur likes the country, and has an idea he'd like to settle here altogether. He says, however, it depends on me — and I want to see lots of the place before I decide. I do hope I will like it, for his sake." "You certainly will get to like it." "Yes, but I'm afraid I shall get lonely for Amer- ica and Americans. ' ' "No, you won't, Cleo, because there are scores of Americans here, to say nothing of tourists from all over Europe. In fact, I intend giving a big party in your honor, my dear. We haven't had one here for — oh, for ages! We could invite all the Japanese we know, and all the Americans and English worth knowmg. ' ' So the two friends chatted on, turning from one su!:ject to another. At one time they had been almost inseparable, and confided in each other on all subjects. Hence, it was not surprising that Mrs. Davis, with characteristic familiari ^ and bon- camaraderie, should dash into the subject of Cleo's marriage. "When is It to be, my dear?" she asked. "Sin- clair is a splendid catch. Every one thinks worlds of him here, and — well, he is charming as far as his own personality goes. ' ' Cleo was silent a moment. Then she said, abruptly. "Jenny, sometimes T fear that Arthur CONFIDENCES. 8i does not actually love me. I do not know why I should think so. He is always so kind to me. I suppose I am foolish." "Of course you are. Why, Cleo, it would be — a — a perfect tragedy if he did not — it would be dreadful." The girl sighed. Her words were halting, for she hesitated to ask even her closest friend such a ques- tion: "Does he — has he paid any one here much — a — attention?" "No, indeed. He doesn't like Japanese women much — he told me so himself. Says they are all alike. That they haven't any heart." "Is it true?" "Well, dear, I don't know. It is not true of all of them, at any rate. There is one girl I know who is the dearest, best-hearted little thing in the world. Cleo, she is the sweetest thing you ever saw. I won't attempt to describe her to you, because I am not a poet, and it would take a poet to describe Nume." "Nume?" "Yes — Mr. Takashima's little sweetheart, you know. Ever heard him speak of her?" Cleo Ballard had become suddenly very still and quiet. The other woman rattled on, without wait- ing for an answer. "She has waited for him eight years, and — and I actually believe she still loves him. She seems to take it as a matter of course that she loves him, and doesn't see anything strange at all in her doing so, in spite of the fact that she was just a little girl ■ ii . ! 1 {. ! 82 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. when he went away." She paused a moment, smil- ing thoughtfully. "Really, Cleo, it is the prettiest thing in the world to see them together. He is rather stiff and formal, but just as gentle and polite as anything, and she, poor little creature, thinks he is the finest thing alive." Cleo Ballard caught her breath with a sudden pain. She hkd grown quite white. "Jenny, don't let's talk of — of the Japanese now. I — I — don't care for them much." "Don't care for them! Why, you tnust get over any feeling like that if you intend living here. However, even if you dislike every Japanese in Japan, you'd change your mind, perhaps, after you knew Nume. You really ought to see her — she — why, my dear, what is the matter? You look quite faint." "Oh, it is nothing, dear; only don't talk about this — this girl — really, I — I feel as though I shouldn't like her, and I am sure she won't like me." "Oh, come now; you're not well, that's all. Here, sit down. You are tired after the long trip. * ' She left the girl's side to go over to Tom and Sinclair, who were talking over old college days. Cleo heard her praising her new prot€g6. Sii>clair looked a trifle bored, though Tom was interestea, "Yes, they are all pretty, more or less," Sinclair said, languidly; "but the deuce is, they are too much alike." "Well, Numb is different. Really, Mr. Sinclair, I am surprised you have not met her. But you will all see her at my party. You know we're going to have one for Cleo at my house, ' ' she added. lii SINCLAIR'S INDIFFERENCE. 83 CHAPTER XX. SINCLAIR'S INDIFFERENCE. When Mrs. Davis had said Sinclair did not care for Japanese women she had merely spoken the truth. With the unreasoning prejudice of a westerner, he had taken a dislike to them, hardly knowing himself why he did so. Perhaps one of the reasons lay in the fact that when he had come to Japan he had been too acutely aware of his engage- ment, and that his wife would likely make ber home there in Japan. For this reason he avoided the distractions that the tea-houses offered to most for- eigners, going there only occasionally with parties of friends; but, unlike most western men, who generally consider it their privilege when in Japan to be as lawless as they desire, he had got into no entanglements whatever. That he had been called upon constantly, as consul, to help various Ameri- cans out of such scrapes with Japanese women, had made him more prejudiced against them. On the night of Mrs. Davis' party, he stood in a doorway looking on at the gayly mixed throng. Here were Americans, English, French, Germans, and a good sprinkling of the better class Japanese. Mrs. Davis' house was entirely surrounded by bal- conies, which she had had specially built in American fashion, and the guests wandered in and out of the . ; P 84 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. ball-room on to these balconies, or down into the gayly lighted garden; under the shadows of the trees, illumined, in spots only, by the flaring light of hundreds of Japanese lanterns, scattered like twinkling swinging lamps all through the gardens, and on the lawn. Cleo Ballard was looking very beautiful; and because she was undoubtedly the prettiest woman in the room she was surrounded the entire evening. Sinclair had once told her laugh- ingly that he gave her carte blanche to flirt all she desired. In his secret heart, like most men, he was opposed to this pastime (for women). Not that he was entirely free from it himself. By no means ; but sometimes the ring of falsity and untruth in it all struck the finer sense of the man. Perhaps he was a trifle bored that night. He watched wearily the dancers passing back and forth, the filmy laces and beautiful summer gowns; and he sighed. Somehow, he was not a part of the scene, for with the peculiarity of a traveler, Sinclair detested any- thing smacking of conventionality, and most parties (in society) are formal to a great degree — at least on the surface. Quite late in the evening Mrs. Davis, who had disappeared for a time from the ball-room, returned, bringing with her a young girl. Sinclair could not see her face at first, because her head was turned from him. She was dressed very simply in a soft white gown, cut low at the neck, the sleeves short to the elbows. She wore no jewels whatever, but in the mass of dense black hair, braided care- lessly and coiled just above the nape of her neck, were a few red roses. Something in the girlish J^ldi^ SINCLAIR'S INDIFFERENCE. «s poise of the figure, the slim, unstudied grace of the neck, and rounded arms, caused Sinclair to move deliberately from his position by the door, and pass in front of her. Then he saw her face. There was something piteous in the girl's expression. He could not have told what there was in her face that struck him so with the peculiarity of its beauty. Her nationality puzzled him. As the guests began to crowd about her, the girl lost her repose of man- ner. She looked frightened and troubled. With a few quick strides, Sinclair was beside Mrs. Davis, waiting to be introduced. Almost as in a dream he heard his hostess say, half jokingly: "Nume, I am going to introduce you to a — a hater of Japanese woman — he is our consul, Mr. Sinclair. You 7nust cure him, my dear, ' ' she added ; and then smiling at Sinclair she said: "Arthur, this is Nume, Miss Watanabe, of whom I told you. ' ' The girl raised her little oval face, and looked very seriously at him. She held her hand out ; she had learned from the Americans the habit of shak- ing hands. Sinclair felt a strange, indescribable sensation as her little hand rested in his ; it was as if he held in his hand a little trembling, frightened wild bird. I 86 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER XXI. "ME? I LIG' YOU." For a moment Sinclair was at a loss what to say to Niime, 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, speak- ing 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. Nume 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. Nume'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. ' ' if I ME? I LIG' YOU, 87 The girl looked gratefully at him. "Ess, I nod lig' big QTowd. 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, Nume 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, con- founded by the girl's direct words. "You see, J have not met any Japanese ladies, and the Japanese girls T have met always struck me as being — well, er — too gay to have much heart. ' ' Nume 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 me big world; bud liddle Japanese girl stay at home with f adder 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 .-J»-.__ 88 WISS NUME OF JAPAN. the girl stopped short here, and looked quite embar- rassed a moment. Then she said : "Num^ talk too much, perhaps?" Her voice was raised questioningly. "No — no — Miss Numfe cannot talk too much." *'0a," 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 Numb?" "Ess," she answered, half doubtingly. "Ameri- cazan 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 ! Numb watch everything, ' ' the girl answered, shrewdly. Sinclair stayed by Nume'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 captiv^ated 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 Nume. During the evening Cleo Ballard paused in a ME? I LIG" YOU." 89 dance, close by them. She had noticed the atten- tion 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 interest- ing 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 Numb, his face rather flushed. "Certainly," he said, coldly, and pronounced the two girls' names. Instinctively the woman nature in Numb scented a rival — possibly an enemy. She wished the Amer- ican gentleman would sit down again. She could IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 1 m 25 IIIIIM 2.0 U ill 1.6 v] " ^V e^ ,>■ '>■ o ^J. 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation S 1 €3 \ :\ V \ 4 i^ o^ 1 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 (716) 872-4503 I i»o MISS NUME OF JAPAN. 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 be- trothed?" 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 viy 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 Num^ 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. I ME? I LIG" YOU." 91 vSinclair 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 vaerjy happy," she continued, "because some day T will be alto- gether with Orito, then we will be much luf for each other again." "May you always be happy, little woman," Sin- clair said, almost huskily. "Happiness is a price- less 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, Num^," she said, "I want you to meet some other people. " 93 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER XXII. ADVICE. Mrs. Davis drew Numfe into a comer o£ the balcony, and sat down to give her a little lecture. "Now, dear, I'm going to speak to you, not as your hostess, but as your — a — chaperon — and friend. You must not speak too familiarly to any man. Now, you ought not to have sat with Mr. Sinclair so long. There were lots of other men around you, and you didn't speak to any of them." '*Bud I do nod lig' all the udder mans," the girl protested. ^^Mef I lig' only the — a — Mister Sinka. ' ' "Yesr but. Numb, you must not like people so — so quickly. And you must not let any one know it, if you do." "Oa, I tell him so," the girl said, stubbornly. •'I tell Mr. — Sinka thad I lig' him vaciy much; and I ask thad he sit with me, so thad too many peoples nod to speak to me. ' ' Mrs. Davis looked very much concerned at this confession. "Now, that was imprudent, my dear; besides, you know," she spoke very slowly and deliberately, **Mr. Sinclair is to be married soon to Miss Ballard, and so you ought to be very particular, so that no one can have the chance to say anything about you. ' ' ADVICE. 93 The girl's bright eyes flashed. *'Mr. Sinka nod led me thing' thad," she said, remembering how Sinclair had evaded the question. •'I ask him thad the pretty lady is betrothed and he make me thing' — no." Mrs. Davis was silent a moment. "Er — that's only a way American men have, Num^. You must not believe them; and be very careful not to tell them you like them — because — because they — they often laugh at girls who do that." Num^ did not stir. She sat very still and quiet. Mr. Davis joined them, and noticing the girl's constrained face, he inquired what was the matter. "Nothing at all, my dear," the American lady said. "I was just giving Num^ some pointers." "Look here, Jenny, you'll spoil her — make hei into a little prig, first thing you know. At least, she is genuine now, and unaffected." "Walter," Mrs. Davis said, rising with dignity^ "Mrs. Ballard thought it outrageous for Sinclair to have sat with her all evening. I never knew him to do such a thing before with any one. That makes it all the more noticeable. Cleo, to>-), was quite perturbed." When the party broke up and the guests were slowly passing into their jinrikishas, numbers of them lingered in the garden, bidding laughing farewells. Numfe, who was spending the night with Mrs. Davis, stood a lonely little figure in the shadow of the balcony. She did not wish to say good-bye to 7 94 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. any of them — she did not like the pretty Americans, she told herself, because she did not believe them any longer. Sinclair went up to her, holding out his hand. "Good-night, Miss Num^," he said. The girl put her littls hand behind her. "Num6 not lig' any longer big Americazan gentlemans, ' ' she said. * ' Mrs. Davees tell me nod to lig' — goonight," — this last very stiffly and politely. The man smiled grimly: "Ah, Miss Num^," he said, "you must always choose your own — like whom you choose;— don't let any one tell you who to like and who not to. ' ' He looked searchingly at her face a moment, then turned and passed out with the other guests, understanding the truth. f ; AFRAID TO ANSWER. 95 CHAPTER XXIII. AFRAID TO ANSWER. It was over ten days since the Ballards had arrived in Tokyo. Still Cleo had not given Takashima the premised answer. It was not that she any longer hesitated for the sake of any sentiment she might have had for him, which was the case on the steamer, but that, having led him on to believe in her, she had not the courage to let him know the truth. Moreover, there was a certain assured, determined look always about his face which fright- ened her. Cleo was a coward if she was anything. It would have been a relief to her to have confided in Mrs. Davis, and perhaps to have her break the truth to him, as gently as possible; but knowing of her strong affection for Num^ her heart misgave her whenever she thought of doing so, and she dreaded the contempt, perhaps anger, that such a revelation would cause in Mrs. Davis. So she put off from day to day. Whenever Takashima called on her at the hotel she was either out, or one of a party, so that he found no chance whatever of speaking to her alone. The girl did everything in her power to avoid being alone with him. If the young man guessed anything of the truth, he never showed it, for he was persistent in his visits, and when he did get a chance to speak to Cleo would talk to her as MISS NUME OF JAPAN. naturally and confidently as he had done those last days on the boat. It terrified Cleo that he refused to be discouraged, that in spite of the almost direct way in which she at times ignored him, he let her understand, in every conceivable way in his power, that he had not lost faith in her, letting her believe that he understood that she, having so many friends, must necessarily be surroimded for the first few days, at least. Cleo did not know whether he had heard of her engagement to Sinclair or not. If he had heard of it he simply ignored it, putting it behind him as so much gossip, and as an impossi- bility, seeing the girl had told him nothing of it herself, and had almost deliberately encouraged him to believe that his own suit was not in vain. It was no use for her to try before Takashima to let him see that she and Sinclair were more to each other than friends, because Sinclair was no aid to her in the matter. He had become strangely cold and reticent, and though he was always the essence of politeness and attention to her, still he might have been just so to any woman friend. Mean- while, Takashima had not once reminded her of her promise to answer him. He told himself he could afford to wait now that he was so sure of her; besides, his mind was a good deal absorbed in going over the old familiar haunts of his boyhood, and try- ing in every way possible to do little acts to please his father, and which would make up for the long years of separation. With Numfe he was on the best of terms, they being, however, more as brother and sister or very dear friends, rather than lovers ; AFRAID TO ANSWER. 97 for Num^ had become as anxious as he to put the marriage off for a time, and the subject was seldom broached between them, though their fathers often alluded to it, and urged haste. Although Takashima and Sinclair were excellent friends, neither of them had ever mentioned Cleo Ballard's name to the other. Sinclair knew nothing whatever of Takashima's love for the girl, or that there hud been anything between them; for both Tom and Cleo had been very careful to avoid tell- ing him, knowing Takashima to be an old friend of his. Besides, perhaps Sinclair's interest in her had flagged, so that, in spile of her beauty and vivacity, his engagement began to pall on him. It galled him beyond measure that he did not have the freedom to go and come when he pleased. This was another reason why he avoided, whenever it was possible, talking about the girl, not wishing to be reminded of her when it was unnecessary; for an engagement where there is no love is the most irk- some of things. So they talked, instead, of Num^. Sinclair was intensely interested in her. He had a half-pleas- ant, half-painful memory of her angry eyes and flushed face when she had refused to shake hands with him in parting that night of the party. He had not seen her since then, though he had paid several visits to Mrs. Davis, and even to Takashima's home. Orito told him she had taken an unaccountable whim, after the party, to become very strict in Japanese etiquette, and that since then she had been living in great seclusion, not even he (Orito) seeing 98 MISS NUME OF JAPAX. her, save in the presence of her father. And in these talks about Num^, with her betrothed, Sin- clair made one discovery which astonished, and strange to say, pleased him — it was that Takashima did not love her — and further, that the girl did not actually love Takashima, though they were the best of friends. He wondered what imderstanding they had come to on the subject, and whether they had bluntly told each other that they did not love each other. VISITING THE TEA HOUSES. 99 CHAPTER XXIV. VISITING THE TEA HOUSES. Quite a large party of Americans, which included the Ballards, Sinclair, the Davises, the Cranstons, Fannie Morton, and others, visited the picturesque tea-houses on the highway between Vedu (Tokyo) and Kyoto. The oddly-built houses, with their slanting roofs, the beauty of their gardens, the per- fume-scented air, rich with the odor of cherry and plum blossom, all contributed to lend an air of delight and sunshine to the visits, and the Ameri- cans watched with pleasure and interest the pretty waitresses and geisha girls, who seemed a part of the scene, as they tripped back and forth before them in their brightly-colored kimonas, played on the samisen and koto (harp), or danced for them. One girl with an unusually pretty round face, and bright, sly eyes, attracted especial attention. She waited on Cleo and Tom Ballard, kneeling on the ground in front of them, holding a small tray, while they drank the tiny cups of hot sake. Cleo did not like the taste of sak^. She told the little waitress so, who, although not understanding a word the American girl had said, nodded her head knowingly, and brought tea for her instead. She tripped on her little heels across the floor, padded about three feet with rice straw, looking back over her shoulder to smile at Tom, to the amusement of that gentle- n 100 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. man, and the irritation of some of the American ladies. "Japanese girls are — rather bold," Rose Cranston said, sharply. "They are — all right," Tom answered, ready to defend them. "Yes," said Fanny Morton, with her usual cynicism. "Naturally you think so. Perhaps we women would, too, if she peeped at us out of her wicked little eyes as she does at you. " Cleo Ballard laughed, a slow, aggravating, silvery laugh. "I think they are charming. Miss Morton," and then to Tom, "they are too funny, Tom. It is the cutest thing in the world to see the way in which they deliberately ignore us poor — females. At least they don't make any pretense of liking us, as we would do in America. ' ' The little geisha girl had come near them again, with a couple of others. Thy were all pretty, with a cherry-lipped, peepy-eyed, cunning prettiness. They stood in a group together, their fans in their hands, glancing smilingly at the American men, undisguisedly trying to flirt with them." Rose Cranston, thoroughly disgusted, said loftily: "Nasty little things, these Japanese women are." "Not at all," said Tom, and went over to them, followed by Cleo and Sinclair. "What is your name, little gecsa girl?" Cleo asked, a touch of patronage in her voice. The three girls looked at each other and giggled. Sinclair looked amused. He put the question to them in VISITING THE TEA HOUSES. lOI n n Japanese, and they answered him readily: "Koto, Kirishima, and Matsu." "What very pretty names!" the American girl said, graciously. "Er— do you dance, as well as— as serve tea?" Again the girls laughed, and Sinclair told them what the American lady had said. The girls nodded their heads brightly, and a few minutes after were dancing for the Americans. "Do they make much money?" Cleo asked Taka- shima, who had joined them. "Yes, but they spend a great deal on their clothes. They are very gay. * ' "Yes, they seem so," Cleo said, thoughtfully, "and yet somehow they look kind of tired and fagged out at times. I have been watching them quite closely, and noticed this about them in spite of the big show of gayety they affect. ' ' "Their chief duty is to arouse mirth," the Japanese answered. "Therefore they must always appear joyful themselves. Some are very witty and accomplished, and if you understood Japanese, as you will some day, you would find a great deal to laugh at in what they say." Towards evening the gardens began to fill up with more guests, and the geisha girls soon had their hands full. They talked and laughed with their guests, sang, danced, flirted, and played on odd musical instruments. The geisha's chief attractions lie in her exquisite taste in arranging her hair, and in the beauty of her dress, the harmonious colors of which blend, accord- > 8 102 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. ing to a Japanese idea, in an unsurpassed way. Her manners, too, are very graceful, though the younger geishas are inclined to be boisterous, and laugh perhaps too much. Moreover, the situations of their houses and the picturesqueness of their tea gardens lend an air of enchantment and charm to the geisha girl and her surroundings. Although the geisha has little history, having first come into existence the middle of last century, her popularity is such in Japan that no parties are thought to be complete without her presence to brighten it up, — to entertain the guests with her accomplishments and infectious mirth, and to dance and play for them. Although her life is essentially rapid and gay, yet, in spite of her lapses from virtue at times, the geisha always retains her native modesty and grace. It is true, many of them are extremely familiar with foreigners, who are their best patrons; yet, in spite of this, the more modest and virtuous a geisha is the more are her services required. The remnant of the old Samourai class of Japan- ese, although very taciturn and grave in deportment, are, nevertheless, extremely fond of the distractions offered by the tea-houses. They are addicted to such pleasures. The snow, the full moon, flowers of every season, national and local fetes, — these all serve as pretexts for forming convivial parties which meet in the picturesque tea-houses and drink tlie sake hot, in tiny cups, twenty or more to the pint. The fact that they are so much sought after, how- ever, has not spoiled the geisha girl. In fact, when you have become acquainted with any one of them, { VISITING THE TEA HOUSES. 103 you soon discover that she is quite diffident, modest, and gentle. There are a great many tea-houses scattered over Tokyo, and on the highway between that city and Kyoto; and it is notable that the style of dress of the waitress and the geisha, as well as the dancing and other amusements, very distinctly differ from each other in each locality. Hence, one who starts out in the morning and visits a number of different tea and geisha gardens is hardly likely to be bored, as he will find new attractions in each place. ' s '/ 104 MISS NUWE OF JAPAN. CHAPTER XXV. SHATTERED HOPES. It was in the month of April that Orito had arrived home — April, the month of cherry blossoms, the month when the devout Japanese celebrate the birth of the great Buddha. On the eighth of that month devotees go to the temples where the cere- mony is performed. It consists simply of pouring tea over the sacred image. They also make trifling contributions to the temple, carrying home with them some of the tea, which is supposed to contain certain curative properties if administered to one suffering from disease. Of later years this religious ceremony has been practically done away w?th, although a few devout followers still observe it. Instead of performing any ceremony in memory of Buddha, many of the people commemorate the month of April by simply being very gentle, kind, loving, and happy among themselves during the month. It is at this time of year that the people stroll out for hanami (flower picnic), clad in ^ ntas- tic costumes, some with masks over their eyes. To the foreigner the surging crowd of holiday makers will cause them to think of an endless masquerade. No one is allowed to pluck the cherry blossom dur- ing the entire month, and perhaps this is the reason that the flower grows so luxuriantly throughout the SHATTERED HOPES. 105 island, as it is not plucked by unscrupulous lovers who might have a rpecial taste for it. It was because of the fact that April is a month of peace and good-will to almost every one, when one puts off the cares of to-day until to-morrow, that Orito had failed to tell his parents of his love for the American girl. He had, instead, tried every means in his power to please the two old men, and would often sit by them for hours listening to their plans for his and Nnme's future, without saying a word. Neither had he, as yet, spoken to Nume on the sub- ject. That the girl was extremely fond of him he knew, "but with the reasoning rather of an American than a Japanese he could not believe that she actually loved him, whom she really scarcely knew. Over a month had passed by since his return home. One day in the month of May, when the fields were ablaze with a burning glory of azaleas, and the sun touched their wild crimson with daz- zling splendor, Orito told his father and Omi of his love for the American girl. He had invited them both to go with him to Okubo, the western suburb of the capital, to see some new variety of the azalea ; for with the birth of each new flower, every month, the Japanese celebrate fetes in their honor. The noisy crowd of pleasure-seeker^ had driven them away from the scene, however, to a more secluded spot in the woods. Here Orito had told them, very gently but firmly, of his love for the beautiful American girl. The two old men remained per- fectly silent, looking at each other with haggard, uncomprehending eyes. The dream of their life io6 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. 1, was shattered. There had not been a time since Nume was born that they had not talked joyously of the marriage of their two children, and in their strong pride in Orito they had sent him to America to become very learned and accomplished. It had seemed to them, sometimes, that the eight years never would come to an end. Now Orito had returned to them, but alas, how changed! He stood by them, slim and quiet, his face sad but determined, waiting for his father to speak. Finally old Sachi rose to his feet. "What does this mean?" he said, sharply. "Do you then wish to go against the command of your father? Must I then say I have lost my son?" "No, father — I will be more your son than ever." The old man's voice trembled. "Duty!" he said, sternly. "That is the watch- word for a Japanese. Did you forget that in Amer- ica? Have you ceased to be Japanese? — duty tirst of all to your parents, to the wife and children to come, and last to yourself." Orito was silent. Omi now spoke. "Orito," he said, and his voice was quite dazed and stupid, "you really speak only in jest. Surely, it is now too late to change." The young man's voice was very low: "It would be too late had the marriage taken place — it is not too late now. Not so long as I have not ruined Nume's happiness as well as my own." "Perhaps after you think this over you will change, my son," Sachi said, gently. "Nay, father, I would rather see you reconciled. SHATTERED HOPES. 107 I cannot change in this. You do not understand. F love her with all my heart, and if— if she were impossible to me, I should surely die." "Could you, then, leave your father to a comfort- less, childless life?" the old man asked, sadly. "We should go together," Orito said. io8 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER XXVI. CONSCIENCE. A pitiful constraint had settled over the nouse- holds of Takashima Sachi and Watanabe Omi. The two old men saw each other not often now; for Sachi had not the strength to cross the eager vital will of his son, whom he loved so dearly, while Omi was too stunned and grieved to care to see them. So he and Nume remained in great seclusion for some days. Omi had as yet told Nume nothing of what Oiito had told them. He was a shrewd old man, and there came to him a certain hope that perhaps the American girl would, after all, refuse to marry Orito. Consequently, he thought he would wait a while before telling the girl anything. Orito called on him each day with presents of tea and flowers, but each time the old man refused to see him, send- ing word that he and Nume were in retirement. This gave Orito no opportunity whatever of speak- ing to the girl alone. Sachi tried to convince him constantly that she actually loved him, and that it would be a cruelty now, not to marry her. The young man grew very despondent, though his resolve did not lose any of its firmness. Sachi had fallen into a pitiful dull apathy, taking interest in nothing about him, and refusing to take comfort from his son, who tried to be very devoted and kind CONSCIENCE. 109 to him. Often, too, he would upbraid Orito very bitterly. At such times the young man would leave the house and go out into the valleys and wander through the woodland paths, trying to forget his misfortunes in the beauty of his surroundings. He had not seen Cleo Ballard for some days, but he had written to her, telling her of what he had done. Cleo Ballard had read his letter with dread mis- giving. **Miss Cleo," it said very simply, "I have told my father and Mr. Watanabe that I cannot marry Num^-san because of my supreme love for you. I did not tell them last month, because it was the season of joy, and I wished to save them pain. Now they are very unhappy, but I tell myself that soon will you bring back joy to our house. ' ' His assurance frightened her. She read the note over and over, as she sat before her dresser, her maid brushing her hair. She shook the hair from the maid's hands. *'I must be alone, Marie," she said, and the girl left her. Long she sat in silence, no sound escaping her lips save one long trembling sigh of utter weariness and regret. She looked at her image in the glass, seeing noth- ing of its beauty. "You are a wicked woman, Cleo Ballard," she said, "a wicked, cruel woman, and — and — Oh! God help me — what shall I do?" 8 1 1 no MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER XXVII. CONFESSION. Cleo Ballard did not answer Takashima's letter. All night long it rose up before her accusingly, and the next morning she dressed in feverish haste, and rushed off to her friend, Mrs. Davis. "Jenny," she said, wildly, "I want to go away — I must go — I am stifling here. I must leave Tokyo — I — I " she broke down and covered her face with her hands. "Why, Cleo— what is it?" Her friend's kindly arms were around her. "I can't tell you, Jenny. I can't tell you — you would hate me, and then, except Tom — Oh, Jenny, I can't afford now to lose any one's friendship. " "Nothing you can tell me, Cleo, would make me hate you. Is it some flirtation you have carried too far? Come, now, it used to relieve you to tell me all about these things in America. Who is it? Alliston? Cranston? or the Englishman? — or — or " "No — none of them — it — it — Oh, Jenny, I can't tell you. ' ' "You must, Cleo — it will do you good, I know, and perhaps I can help you. ' ' "Itis— Takashima." Jenny Davis' hands dropped from Cleo's shoulders. "Orito!" CONFESSION. Ill The two looked at each other in tragic silence. "Cleo, how could yoM do it? There were enough without him; — when was it? how? tell me all about it— Oh! poor little Num^!" "It was on the steamer " "On the steamer," her friend repeated, stu- pidly. "Yes, go on;— well, and what happened— you ?" "Yes— I did it deliberately— I made him— care for me. I was lonely, and wanted to be amused. The passengers were uninteresting and stupid. He was different, with his gentle, odd ways. Some- times I got almost frightened of myself, because he took everything so seriously. I did not mean to— to really hurt him. I wanted to see how a Japanese would act if he were in love, and— and Tom kept telling me how proof he was against women— and— Oh, Jenny, when he did speak out to me, I had not the courage, then, to tell him the truth. And all the time I knew it — but " Her friend's shocked face startled her. "Yes; I understand," she said, bitterly. "I knew you would hate me— I deserve it — only I " Jenny Davis put her arms round her again. "Dear, I don't hate you. Indeed, I don't, but it has startled me so. I am so — so shocked, because of Nume, and the two poor old men. I don't know what to say, but I'd stand hy you, dear, against all the Japanese in Japan if it became necessary," She put her head against Cleo's, and the two friends wept in sympathy with each other, as women do. 113 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. "You must face the thing out, Cleo. Have you told Takashima yet?" "No; — he sent me iliis to-day," she put the note despairingly into her friemVs hands. "How dreadful I — how perfectly awful! — you do not know the Japanese as I do, dear. It will just break the two old men's hearts. They have looked forward to his marriage with Nume all their lives. They don't love their children as we do in America. Their pride in them is too pathetic, Cleo ; and when they disappoint them it is like a death-blow. ' ' "Don't, Jenny — don't, please don't talk about them." "But we must, Cleo. That is where the whole mistake has always been with you. You are too weak, Cleo. You can't look suffering in the face, and in consequence you do nothing to relieve it. Your duty is plain. Go right to Orito and tell him the truth." "Jenny, I can't do it. He said once on the steamer that he would not scruple to take his life if he were very unhappy ; and then he went on to tell me how common suicides were in Japan, and how the Japanese had not the smallest fear of death, and he seemed to think it would be a courageous act to — to take one's life. Jenny, I got so frightened that night I almost screamed out." "But sooner or later you will have to tell him, Cleo. Don't let him know it solely by your marry- ing Sinclair. That would be too cruel ; — tell him. Tell me, Cleo, do you think he actually believes you care for him?" CONFESSION. *»3 SECLUSION. 119 i« i> where before, but I can't tell where," she said to Num&. "Perhaps you seeing her at the tea garden, because Koto was, one time, geisha girl. ' ' "Why, of course! I remember now. She was the pretty little Japanese girl who waited on us that day and made Rose Cranston so angry by flirting with Tom." The girl was smiling at Mrs. Davis. She too recognized her. Mrs. Davis turned to Nume: "I don't understand, Nume, how — how a geisha girl can be a friend of yours, ' ' she said. Nume looked very grave. "Japanese lady always have frien' who is also maid. Koto is my maid; also my frien'," "I understand," the American lady said thought- fully. Japanese ladies usually treat their maids more as sisters than as maids. In fact, one of the duties of a maid is to act as companion to her mistress. Hence, it is necessary that the maid be quite accom- plished and entertaining. Often a geisha girl will prefer to leave the tea-house where she is employed, to take a position as companion and maid to some kind and rich lady of the Kazoku and Samourai class, and in this way she learns to be very gentle and polite in her manners by copying her little mis- tress ; besides, she will have a good home. It is a peculiar fact that Japanese holding positions such as maid, or, for a man, perhaps as retainer or valet, or even servant, become extremely devoted to their masters and mistresses, remaining with them until I20 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. with them after they have married, rather than marry themselves. It is no «ncomm'o„ thing for Ine^ fir T "^"^'^'' «°'°«''"e= almost heroic ones, for their masters or mistresses. ■> FEMININE DIPLOMACY. 121 CHAPTER XXX. FEMININE DIPLOMACY. The next day Num^ and Koto visited the Ameri- can lady. Orito had gone up to Yokohama, Nwmh told her, and would not be back for several days. "You will be very lonely then, dear." Num^ sat in her favorite position, on the floor at Mrs. Davis' knee. Koto trotted about the room, examining with extreme interest rmd curicsity the American furnishings and decorations. '•No; I nod be lonely," Nume si\id, ''because I nod seen Orito wanjf days — so I ged used." "He must be a very bad boy to keep away from you so many days," Mrs. Davis said, playfully. "Oh, no! Orito is vaery good boy." She sat still and thoughtful for a while, her feet drawn under her, her little hands clasped in her lap. "Do the pretty Americazan ladies always luf when they marry?" "Nearly always, Num^." Num^ nodded her head thoughtfully. "Japanese girls nod ahvays luf," she said, wistfully. "Koto say only geisha girls marry for luf. " "That must be because they are thrown into con- tact with men and boys, while Japanese ladies are secluded. Is it not so, dear?" "Ess. Mrs. Davees, do you lig' that I am goin* to marry Orito?" I 122 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. "Yes, very much — I am sure you will be very happy with him. He is so good. No one has said anything to you about — about it, have they?" she added, anxiously, fearing perhaps the girl had heard of what Orito had told his father. "No," she said. "No one talk of luf to Name bud Mrs. Davees; thad is why Nume lig' to talk to you. ' ' The American lady smiled. "Suppose Japanese girl lig' instead some iii::i\ pretty genleman, and she marry with some one she nod like?" She emphasized this question, and threw a charming glance at Mrs. Davis, "Do you mean the case of a girl betrothed to one man and in love with another?" "Ess." "Why, I don't know what she could do then, Num^. What put such an idea into your head?" Num^ did not reply for a moment. Then she said, very shyly: "Nume not lig' the big, ugly Americazan genleman any more. I telling him so." "Nume!" "Ess, I tell Mr. Sinka I nod lig'— thad you tell- ing me so." "Well, Nume!" Mrs. Davis' voice betrayed her impatience. "What did you do that for?" The girl half shrugged her little shoulders. "Oa! Idunno." "Nume, you must be careful how you speak to men. Don't tell them anything. If you like them, keep it to yourself; it's a good thing you told him you disliked him, this time, and did not leave him FEMININE DIPLOMACY. 123 with the impression that you were in love with him You know, dear, girls have to be very careful whom they like." "Bud, Mr. Sinka tell me nod to let anyone choose for me-thad I lig' "-she paused a moment, and added vaguely, "thad I lig' who I lig'." "Really, Num^, you might take my advice before Mr. bmclair's," the older lady said, quite provoked. I- t.i 134 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. :' CHAPTER XXXI. A BARBARIAN DINNER. P The girls stayed to dinner with Mrs. Davis. Koto had never eaten an American dinner before, though Num^ had grown quite used to it. Following the national custom, she ate all placed before her by her hostess, and Mrs. Davis, knowing of this little habit of hers, which was more an act of compliment to her hostess than of liking for the food, was always very careful not to serve her too much. She quite for- got that Koto would be altogether unused to the food. The two little Japanese women presented a very pretty contrast. Both were small and, in their way, pretty. Koto had a round-faced, bright-eyed, shy prettiness; while Nume's face was oval and pure in contour. She chatted very happily and confidently, now in Japanese to Koto, now in pretty broken English to Mr. and Mrs. Davis. Koto ate her dinner in silence, her face strangely white and pitiful. Very bravely she ate the strange food, however, stopping at nothing. She looked with wonder at the butter (something the Japanese never use), puzzling for a moment what she was sup- posed to do with it, then picked the little round pat from the butter-plate, slipped it into her tea, and drank the tea. Mr. Davis saw this act, and choked. A BARBARIAN DINNER. "5 "What is the matter, Walter?" "Er — er — hum — nothing, my dear! I — a — Oh, Lord!" This last ejaculation was provoked by another act of Koto's. On the table was a small plate of chowchow. The servant passed it to Koto, thinking perhaps she would like some with her meat. Instead of helping herself to some, the girl held the dish in her hand, hesitated a moment, and then very heroically ate the hot stuff all up with the small china spoon in the dish. Her eyes were full of tears when she had finished. "What is it, Koto-san?" Nume asked, gently. "It is the barbarian food," the girl answered, desperately, in Japanese. "I do not like it." Num^ translated this to the Americans, apologiz- ing for the remark by saying : "Koto always been geisha girl. Tha's why she is nod most careful in her speech. It was most rude that she spik' so of the kind Americazan's food, bud the geisha girl is only stylish, and nod understan' to spik' polite to foreigners." This elaborate, rather mixed apology, the Amer- icans took very good-naturedly, telling Num^ to assure Koto that they bore her no malice whatever, and that, in fact, they owed her an apology for not having remembered that she was a stranger to their food. Besides, the Americans were just as foolish when they had eaten Japanese food. y I 9 I i (a6 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER XXXII. THE PHILOSOPHY OF LOVE. After dinner Num^ resumed her seat by Mrs. Davis, while her husband took Koto through the house, glad of an opportunity to air his limited knowledge of Japanese; for Nume seldom permitted them to address her save in English, pretending to make great fun of their Japanese in order to make them speak English to her. They, on the other hand, always praised her English extravagantly. "I want you to promise me, Nume, that you will never tell any man you care for him again, unless it is Orito." "Why shall \ promise?"' the girl asked. "Because it is not the right thing to say to any one." "Butif Iluf " "Nonsense; you are not going to love except as all good Japanese girls do — after your marriage." "But you say one time thad is shame for me thad I only luf after I marry. ' ' "Well, I have been thinking it over," the other answered, a trifle rattled — "and — and really, you are all so happy with things that way I wouldn't advise your changing the custom. ' ' "Bud Japanese girl luf a liddle before theymarry. After marriage big bit. Koto say geisha girl luf hig THE PHILOSOPHY OF LOVE. 127 bit before they marry. Koto luf vaery much Japan- ese boy in Tokyo " "That is good, and are they to be married?" "Ah, no; because he worg vaery hard to mag' money, but Koto say mag' vaery liddle money, so she come worg' for me, and save — afterivard they marry vaery habby." Num^ looked at the American lady with eyes full of wistful wondering: "I thing' I lig' vaery much thad I luf and be habby too. Nume nod know thad she luf Orito vaery much — Ess, she luf him vaery much, bud — sometimes I thing' I nod //// him too much; sometimes I thing' mebbe Orito nod luf me too much." "Of course, you do love him, goosie. Now, don't begin thinking you don't, because one often con- vinces oneself of things that are not actually so. ' ' "Bud I do nod thing' much of Orito," the girl contradicted; and added, shyly: "I thing', instead, of Mr. Sinka — but I not lig'— No! Num5 nod lig' Mr. Sinka;" she shook her head violently. Mrs. Davis called all the argument she could to her aid. "You ought not to think of him, Nume; that is wicked, because he belongs to some one else." The girl's face had lost its wistfulness. Now it was arch and complacent. "Perhaps Nume is vaery wigged," she smiled. "Koto say all girls thad are habby are wigged." "Koto is a bad girl if she told you that. Don't let her teach you about the geisha girls, dear — Er — every one knows they are not a good class, at all.'" pp i 1 1 It laS MISS NUME OF JAPAN. Num^ tossed her head provokingly. "All the samf, Num^ still t/iing' of Mr. Sinka. " Her persistence astounded Mrs. Davis. She felt almost like shaking the girl; and yet there was something so sweet and innocent in her openly acknowledging that she thought of Sinclair. She had not been out much, nor had she seen many people since the night of the party. There- fore, it was quite natural that, as Sinclair had made such an impression on her that night, she should think about him a great deal. Moreover, Koto, with a geisha girl's usual flippancy and love of any- thing savoring of romance, had perhaps fostered this feeling. The girls had discussed him. Ever since he had told his father of his love for the American girl, Orito had been very kind to her, though sometimes Nume fancied he wished to tell her something. Her interest in Sinclair had not spoiled her loyalty to Orito, which she had felt and cultivated all these years. Koto had encouraged her in the idea of flirting with the American. That was all. She never for an instant thought of break- ing off her betrothal with Orito. She had grown used to that, and, unlike Orito, she had not been in America, so that she still was Japanese enough to be obedient. Besides, she really did love Orito in a way that she herself did not comprehend. Because, although it pleased her very much to be with him, to chat and tell him all the news of the neighborhood in which they lived, ask his advice and opinion on different subjects, yet her mind kept constantly wandering from him, and she could call up no gen- THE PHILOSOPHY OF LOVE. 129 nine warmth or enthusiasm in her affection for him. The truth was, her love for him was merely that of a young sister for a very dear brother, one from whom she had been parted for a long time. ' j in \ 1 i i 1 130 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER XXXIII. WHAT CAN THAT "LUF" BE? Perhaps Orito recognized this fact, and for that reason seldom wearied her with over-attention. He was tenderness itself to her; he took great interest in all her studies; played games with her and Koto; and tried in every way possible to make things pleasant for her. In this way a very dear sympathy had sprung up between them. Although Orito had told her nothing directly of his plans, yet he had often tried to give her some inkling of the state of affairs. Thus, he would say: "I will be your friend and brother forever, Numfe-san. " Nume had a peculiar temperament for a Japanese girl. Although apparently open and ingenuous and artless in all things, nevertheless where she chose to be she could keep her own counsel, and one might almost have accused her of being sly. But then the girl was far from being as childish, or as innocent and contented, as she seemed at times. On the contrary, her nature was self-willed almost to stubbornness. She either loved one with all her strength, or she was indifferent, or she hated one fiercely. There was nothing lukewarm about her. Perhaps when she should meet the one to whom she could give her heart, she would give it with a pas- sion that would shake every fibre of her little body. WHAT CAN THAT "LUF" BE? Ui This was the reason why she was restless in her betrothal to Orito. She instinctively felt her capability for a deeper love. The Japanese are not, as a rule, a demonstra- tive people. It is said to be a weakness to love before marriage, though a great many do so, espe- cially those who are thrown into contact with the opposite sex to any extent. Numb knew this, and strove bravely to live up to the popular idea. She did not, as yet, understand her own self, nor was she cognizant of the possibilities for feeling which were latent in her. She attributed her restlessness solely to the fact that she was so soon to be married. She had not analyzed the word "love. " It had only existed in her vocabulary since she had known the Americans. She had tired Mrs. Davis out asking questions about it. "Was this luf good?" "Was it wrong to luf too many people?" "Why must she not tell when she lufed any one?" "Did the pretty Americazan ladies luf their husbands, and was that why they were always so proud and beautiful?" "She" (Numfe) "would like to luf too."— "How would she know it?" These almost unanswerable questions, and many others, she put to Mrs Davis, that lady answering them as sagely and wisely as possible, the natural love of romance prompting her to encourage the girl to talk so, but her desire to give only such advice as would keep her from thinking o' Sinclair causing her to modify her answers so that they m.ght suit the case. The worst of the matter was that although Nume would thank her very sweetly I ■■■Qi 13a MISS NUME OF JAPAN. for any information on the subject, she had a hngering doubt that she ever wholly believed her, and that, in spite o" ' - advice, the girl would will- fully permit her 1 ..ghts to run riot. No! the Americazan lady could not prevent Num^ from thinking of whom she chose. CONSPIRATORS. ^33 CHAPTER XXXIV. CONSPIRATORS. This visit to Mrs. Davis' house broke the retire- ment Omi and Num^ had planned for themselves. Besides, the girl was tired of the seclusion, and wanted to go out once more. And Omi had lost a good deal of the old interest in his daughter that he had had before Orito had told him of his love for the American girl. He was still very strict with her, at times; but soon he got into the habit of neglecting her, and would go over to the house of Sachi, where the two old men would sit mournfuUv together, neither of them alluding in any way to' their chil- dren ; so that Nume was left a great deal to herself, and allowed to do pretty much as she liked. She and Koto would start out in the mornings with their lunches in tiny baskets, and would spend the entire day on the hills, or the shores of the Hayama, wan- dering idly in the cool shade of the trees, or gather- ing pebbles and shells on the shore. Sometimes they would join parties of young Japanese girls and boys, who came up to the hills from a little village near there. They were the children of fishermen, ind were plump and healthy and happy. Num^ and Koto would play with them as joyously as if they, themselves, were children. One day when Num^ and Koto were in the woods 10 y I • t =1; 134 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. alone together, and Nume had made Koto tell her over and over again of the gay life of the geisha girls in Tokyo, Num^ said : "Koto-san, let us some day go up to Tokyo alone. Lots of girls now travel alone, and we are so near the city. We would not let my father know, and as he is away with Takashima Sachi all day, he would never miss us. No one will recognize us in the city, or if they do they'll think we are there with some friends, but it is common for two girls to be together in the city, is it not, Koto?" Koto said it was, but looked a trifle scared at this proposal. However, she was as eaqfer as Numfe to carry it out, for they had both grown very tired of the quietness of their life ; especially Koto, who was used to the noisy city. She entered into the project at once. "Let me go first to the city alone to-morrow," sh said, "and I will tell your father that I have busi- ness to do there ; then I will go and make arrange- ments at a jinrikisha stand to send a special vehicle to meet us each day — or every other day." "And will ve see Shiku?" Num^ asked. Koto's face beamed. "If you say so, Nume-san — if you will permit. 'Why, of course I will," Nume said, excitedly. "Where will we see him?" "I will tell him to meet us. He works for the American consul, and he is very good to Shiku. ' ' Numb looked at her narrowly. "Do you know, Koto-san, that the American consul is the Mr. Sinka I tell you of?" CONSPIRATORS. 135 *'No; Shiku calls him only 'master sir,' and 'the consul.' " Nume was silent a moment. ''And will we see the consul also, Koto?" "Oh, no! because if we do not want any one to know we must be very careful not to be recognized. " So the two girls planned, and the next day Koto went up to the city and made every arrangement. Bit I 136 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER XXXV. A RESPITE FOR SINCLAIR. It was about two weeks later. Orito had not returned from Yokohama, neither had Cleo Ballard re'iirned from Matsushima. She was enchanted "'vi'.li the beauty of the wonderful bay, and after the stri-iu sh<^ had been under in Tokyo, it was a great relief ' "ler to be away from the noise of the city Ai a ; p ;c -'i suggested only beauty and rest. Sinclair nad not accompanied them on the trip. He had been somewhat surprised at the haste in which it had been undertaken, and had told Cleo that unless he corld travel leisurely he did not care to go at all; besides, he never enjoyed traveling with a large party of tourists, preferring to go alone with one congenial companion. However, he urged her to go, saying that he might run down himself and join them in a few days. After the departure of the party he was left almost entirely to himself. He found time for looking about him. It was a relief for the time being to feel free once more, and to come and go as he chose; whereas, when the Ballards were in the city, he had always felt in duty bound to be with them con- stantly, and to place himself and his time entirely at their disposal. Sinclair was not looking well. He had grown thin and nervous, and there was a A RESPITE FOR SINCLAIR. 137 harassed look about his usually sunny face. Sinclair was by no means an extraordinary or brilliant man. He was easy-going in disposition, a trifle stern and harsh to those he disliked, but as a rule genial and easy to get on with. He was a favorite both with men and women. He was too good-natured to be a strong man, perhaps, and was easily swayed by his own likes and dislikes. His engagement worried him more than he cared to admit. He told himself constantly that he ought to be happy, that nine men out of ten would have envied him Cleo. He recognized that she was good and generous, as well as beautiful ; but yet all this seemed rather to paralyze his efforts to love her than otherwise. He knew her beauty and charms too well. When a man admits to himself that he has summed up all a woman's charms, then be sure affection begins to wane ; for where there is love the lover is constantly discovering new charms, and, in fact, even those he has known are ever new to him. Sinclair was weary. The prospect of his marriage appalled him. Even the beauty of the country, in which he had hitherto taken such great delight, ceased to interest him. It was replete with sadness now. The girl's departure was an unconscious respite and relief to him. After they had left he threw himself into the actual joy of living, which life in Japan always suggests. He succumbed to the dole e far niente of the atmosphere, went out into the country, with his Japanese interpreter and office boy, and even on two or three occasions visited the tea-houses and frivolled i 138 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. away a few dreamy hours with the light-hearted geishas. Often he and an English traveler named Taylor would find a quiet spot on the Hayama, where they would spend the entire day fishing, a favorite pas- time of Sinclair's. Shiku would accompany them, carrying their rods and the Englishman's sketching apparatus, for in a quiet, unobtrusive fashion Taylor was quite a clever artist, though he painted almost entirely for his own pleasure. He would often desert the rod for the brush and leave Sinclair to fish alone, while he tried to reproduce parts of the exquisite, incomparable landscape; for, as some clever Japanese poet has described the scenery in Japan, it consists of "precious jewels in little cas- kets," and that within the vicinity of Fuji-Yama, from many points of which a distant view of the peerless mountain can be seen, is one of the most beautiful of all the lovely spots in Japan. Taylor was of an uncommunicative, reticent nature, — strong and staunch. Between the two men an inexplicable friendship had sprung up, one that partook of no confidence betwixt them, but showed itself simply in the pleasure they took in being together. THOSE BAD JINRIKISHA MEN. 139 CHAPTER XXXVI. THOSE BAD JINRIKISHA MEN. One balmy day in June, when the woods were so still that scarce a leaf stirred on the branches of the trees that shaded a spot along the Hayama where the two friends were fishing and smoking together, they were aroused from a pleasing silence by voices on the road which ran curving along the river bank only a short distance from where they sat. They were women's voices, and they were raised in pro- test. The Englishman lazily puffed on at his pipe, saying laconically : "vSome damned jinrikisha man, I suppose. Got a nasty habit, some of them, of demanding extra fare of women when they get them well on the road, and then, if they don't pay, won't carry them any further." The American turned to Shiku : "Go and see what you can do, Shiku." Shiku ran lithely through the small bush that separated them from the road. After a time he came back, his face flushed and indignant. "The lady has forgot to bring more money than the fare, and now the runners will charge more. " Sinclair stopped watching the line at the end of his rod. He put his hand carelessly into his trousers I 140 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. pocket, pulling out a handful of small change. "How much is it, Shiku?" "Fifteen sen." "Here you are." "Wait . loment," said the Englishman, slowly, pulling in his line. "I'll just step over with you, and punch his head for him." Sinclair smiled to himself as he watched his tall, strong figure disappear among the trees. As he did not return for some time, Sinclair also drew in his line, and sauntered toward the road. Taylor was not bullying the runners. Instead, he was listening very attentively to the little Japanese women in the jinrikisha, who seemed tearful and excited. As Sinclair came nearer to them he caught what one of them was saying: "An' I bring no more moaneys. " The halting English struck him with a pleased ring of familiar- ity. He turned sharply to look at her face. It was Nume ! THOSE GOOD JINRIKISHA MEN. 141 CHAPTER XXXVII. THOSE GOOD JINRIKISHA MEN. It did not take Sinclair long to learn the source of her trouble. It seems she and Koto had been mak- ing trips to Tokyo, and had made special arrange- ments with a jinrikisha man to take them for so much per week. Unfortunately, two new runners had been given to them that day. Like the rest of their class, they were unscrupulous and, conse- quently, as soon as they were in a portion of the road from which the girls could not attempt either to walk to the city or to their home, they had stopped to demand extra fare. This the girls could not pay them, having no more with them. There- upon the runners had refused to carry them farther. It was in this pitiful plight the two men had found them. Sinclair reprimanded the men very severely, threatening to report them to the police, as soon as he returned to Tokyo. He could not be too harsh, however, because at heart he was thanking them for giving him this happy chance to see Nume again. How pretty she looked in the soft kimona! He had only seen her in conventional American evening dress. It had seemed to him, then, wonderfully lovely and suited to her ; now he thought it incon- gruous when compared to the Japanese gown on her. 10 142 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. ;i I i! •'You must have been awfully frightened," he said; ''better stop a while until you are composed;" then, as the girls hesitated, "I'll fix it all right with the runners." He did so, and soon all wf n good humor. As for Numfe and Koto, the^ .atepped daintily, almost fearfully, from the jinrikisha, and followed the two men to the pretty shaded spot, leaving the jinrikisha men with their vehicles to take care of themselves. Sinclair noticed that the Englishman seemed to know Numb. He addressed her as Miss Watanabe, and inquired after Mrs. Davis. "You have met before, I see," he remarked. "Ess," the girl smiled; and Taylor repeated the incident of how he had spoken to her father of the girl's beauty. "Did I offend you?" he asked the girl. "Ess." Both Sinclair and Taylor laughed heartily at her assent, and the two girls joined in, scarcely knowing what they were laughing at, but feeling strangely happy and free. Numb called their attention to Koto, telling them she was her friend and maid. Sinclair recognized the girl almost immediately as she smiled at him. "And so you have been making almost daily trips to Tokyo?" he said, wondering at the girl's skill in evading detection. "Ess — we become so lonely.'' "Well, it's a jolly shame to shut you up like they do the women here," Taylor said, with a vivid memory of how the girl had been kept under such THOSE GOOD JINRIKISHA MEN. 143 rigid seclusion after his conversation with her father. Taylor began fumbling with his sketching tools. "Will you let me paint you, Miss Numb?" he asked. "I'll make the sky a vivid blue behind you, and paint you like a bright tropic flower standing out against it. ' ' The girl looked at Sinclair standing behind Tay- lor. He shook his head at her. "No," she said, with exaggerated dignity, "Numb does not wish to be painted. ' ' "Well, what about Koto?" Koto nodded her head in undisguised pleasure at the prospect. 144 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. f CHAPTER XXXVIII. DISPROVING A PROVERB. While Taylor sketched Koto, Sinclair and Numb wandered away from them, and finding a pretty shady spot sat down together. The girl was strangely shy, though she did not pretend to hide the artless pleasure she had in seeing him again. "What have you been doing with yourself all these days, Num^?" "Nosing." "I thought you had been making sly trips to Tokyo?" "I was so lonely^'* the girl said, sadly. ' ' You ought to be very happy now — now that your marriage is assured. * ' "Nume is nod always habby, " she answered, wistfully. "Sometimes I tell Mrs. Davees I am nod vaery, vaery habby, an' she laf at me, tell me I donno how habby I am. " "But why are you not always happy?" "I don't to understand. I thing' thad I want to — " she looked Sinclair in the face with serious, wistful eyes — "I thing' I want to be luf," she said. Sinclair felt the blood rush to his head in a tor- rent at this strange, ingenuous confession. The girl's sweet face fascinated him strangely. He had DISPROVING A PROVERB. 145 thought of her constantly ever since he had met her. With her strange, foreign, half-wild beauty, she awakened in him all the slumbering passion of his nature, and at the same time, because of her sweet- ness, innocence and purity of heart, a finer sense of chivalry than he had ever felt before— a wish to protect her. "You do not need to wish to be loved, Nume — every one who knows you must love you." "Koto luf me," she said, "tha's all. My fadder vacry proud of me sometimes, an' thad I marry withOrito; Orito luf me a liddle, liddle bit— Mrs. Davees— vaery good friend— you " she paused, looking at him questioningly. Then she added, shyly : "You are I'acry good friend too, I thing'." Sinclair had forgotten everything save the witch- ing beauty of the girl at his side. She continued speaking to him : "Are you habby, too?" she asked. ' ' Sometimes, Nume ; not always. ' ' "Mrs. Davees tell me thad you luf the pretty Americazan lady all with your heart, an' thad you marry with her soon, so Nume thing' you mits' be vaery habby. ' ' Sinclair made a nervous gesture, but he did not answer Nume. After a while he said : "Nume, one does not always love where one marries." "No — in Japan naever, bud Mrs. Davees say nearly always always in America." "Mrs. Davis is wrong this time, Nume." : 146 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. About a half hour later he heard Taylor calling to them. "Numfe," he said, as he helped her rise to her feet, "I know a pretty spot on the river not far from your home. Won't you and Koto come there instead of going all the way to Tokyo?" The girl nodded her head. As they started up the hill she said: "Mrs, Davees tell me not to say too much to you. ' ' "Don't put any bar on your speech, Nume. There is nothing you may not say;" he paused, "but — er — perhaps you had better not say anything to her about our meeting." He was strangely abstracted as he and Taylor trudged back to their hotel. The Englishman glanced at him sideways. "Nice little girl, that— Num^-san." Taylor stopped in the walk to knock the ash from his pipe against a huge oak tree. "Hope she is not like the rest of them." "What do you mean?" "Ah — well, don't you know — lots of fire and all that — but as for heart — ever hear the old saying: 'A Japanese flower has no smell, and a Japanese woman no heart'?" The perfume-laden blossoms and flowers about them stole their sweetness into his nostrils even as he spoke. Perhaps Sinclair recognized this. "It is doubtless as untrue of the woman as the flower. Ah — pretty good smelling flowers those over there, eh?" He plucked a couple of wild flowers that resembled the pink. DISPROVING A PROVERB. 147 "Well, I guess the poet — or — fool — who said that alluded only to the national flower — the chrysan- themum," Taylor said. "Apparently — yes; he was a fool; — didn't know what he was talking about. ' ' i I 148 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER XXXIX. LOVE! Summer in the woods — summer in Japan! Ah! the poet Hitomaru sang truly over a thousand years ago, when he said: "Japan is not a land where men need pray, for 'tis itself divine." It seemed as if the Creator had expended all the wealth of his pas- sion and soul in the making of Nippon (Japan) the land of beauty. It pulsated with a warm, wild, luxuriant beauty; the sun seemed to shine more broadly over that fair island, kissed and bathed it in a perpetual glow until the skies and the waters, which in their clearness mirrored its glory, became as huge rainbows of ever-changing and brilliant colors. Color is surely contagious; for the wild birds, that sang delirioiisly, wore coats that dazzled the eye ; the grass and flowers, the trees and blos- soms were tinged with a beauty found nowhere else on earth; and even the human inhabitants caught the spirit of the Color Queen and fashioned their garments to harmonize with their surroundings. So, also, the artists of Japan painted pictures that had no shadows, and the people built their houses and colored them in accord with nature. What spirit of romance and enchantment lurked in every woodland path, every rippling brook or stream! Sinclair was intoxicated with the beauty LOVE! 149 of the country. It is true he had lived there nearly three years now, but never had it struck him as being so gloriously lovely. Why was there an added charm and beauty to all things in life? Why was there music even in the drone of the crickets in the grass? Sinclair was in love! Love, the great beautifier, had crept into his heart, unseen. Nume knew it — knew that Sinclair loved her. From the first he had never even tried to battle against the growing love for Nume which was consuming him, so that he thought of nothing else, night or day. His letters to Cleo Ballard grew wandering and nervous, or he did not write at all to her. He would neglect official business to meet Nume on the banks of the Hayama, and spend whole days in her company, with no one by them save the wee things of nature, and within call of Koto and Shiku. Neither did Numfe struggle against or make any resistance. With all the force of her intense nature she returned his love. And it was the awakening of this love in her that had taught her to be discreet. She had taken the lesson well to heart that Mrs. Davis had taught her — to tell no man she loved him even if .she did love him. "Orito is coming home neg's weeg," she told him one morning. Sinclair drew his breath in sharply. "It will mean, then, the end of our — our happy days in the woods. ' ' Num^ was feeling perverse. Why did not Mr. Sinka tell her he cared for her — did he love the beautiful American lady more than he did her? 11 15° MISS NUME OF JAPAN. "Oh, no — ?tot the end, Mr. Sinka," she said; and added, cruelly, "Orito can come, too." It was the first time she had ever seemed to trifle with him. Hitherto she had always been so gentle and lovable. He felt a pain at his heart, and his eyes were quite stern and contracted. "Numb," he said, almost harshly, "you — you surely hold our meetings more sacred than that. You know they would lose their essence of happi- ness and freedom, with the intrusion of a third party. ' ' The girl was filled with remorse, in an instant. "Ess, Mr. Sinka," she said. "Please forgive bad Numb." "Forgive you. Numb!" He turned his eyes reluctantly from the girl's flushed face. "Oh! little witch," he whispered, holding her hands with a passionate fierceness. "You tempt me so— tempt me to forget everything save that I am with you." She let her hands rest in his a moment. Then she withdrew them and rose to her feet restlessly. Sin- clair rose also, looking at her with yearning in his face. "Why do you speag lig' thad, Mr. Sinka?" she asked. "Numb, Numb, don't you understand — don't you know?" "No! Numb does not onderstand Americazan. Mrs. Davees tell me thad the Americazan genleman mag' luf to poor liddle Japanese women, but he nod really luf — only laf at her. ' ' A cold anger crept over Sinclair. LOVE! 151 "So she has been telling you some more yarns?" "No; she telling thad yarns long, long time ago." He recovered himself with an effort. "I won't make love to you, Numb," he said, bitterly. "You need not fear. " In his misery at his helplessness and inability to tell the girl how much he loved and wanted her, he was doubting her, — wondering whether it were indeed the truth that a Japanese woman had no heart. A feeling of utter misery came over him as he thought that perhaps Nume had been only play- ing with him, that her shy, seeming pleasure in being with him was all assumed. He looked down at the girl beside him. Perhaps she felt that look. She raised her little head and smiled at him, smiled confidently, almost lovingly. His doubts vanished. "Nume— Numfe!" was all he said; but he kissed her little hands at parting [with a vehemence and passion he had never known. in ) 1 i 152 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER XL. A PASSIONATE DECLARATION. "Koto," Nume said that night, as the maid brushed her hair till it shone bright and glossy as the shining jade-stone she placed before the huge Buddha when she visited the Kawnnon temple, "Mr. Sinkaluf me." "I know," the other said, quite complacently, and as though she had never had even the smallest doubt about it. "Why, Koto," Nume turned around in surprise, "how do you know?" "Shiku tell me first. He say always the august consul carry with him the flowers you give him, and he leave his big work for to come and see you." Nume smiled happily. "Do you think he will love me forever, Koto?" "Ah, no!" Koto answered, elaborately; "because the august consul is to marry with the honorably august American woman in two months now, and of course he love only his wife then. ' ' This answer displeased Nume. She spoke quite sharply to Koto. "But he tells me love never dies; that when he will love somebody he love her only forever." Koto shrugged her shoulders. "Americans are very funny. I do not understand them." A PASSIONATE DECLARATION. 153 The next day Numfe asked Sinclair whether he thought it possible for one who was married to love any one else besides his wife. "Yes, Nume, it is possible," he said. Then an idea struck him that she was thinking of her own case and her approaching marriage to Orito. "I don't believe in such marriages," he said. "I would despise a woman who loved one man and mar- ried another." Nume smiled sadly. "Ah, Mr. Sinka, that's vacry mos' sad thad you despising poor liddle womans. Will you despise also grade big mans who do same thing?" Then Sinclair comprehended. His face was quite haggard. "Oh, Nume, Nume-san," he almost groaned, "what can I do?" The girl was silent, waiting for his confidence. "You understand, Nume, don't you— understand that I love you?" The girl quivered with his passion, for a moment, then she stood still in the path, a quiet, question' ing, almost accusing, little figure. "But soon you will marry with the red-haired lady," she said. "No! I cannot!" he burst out, passionately. "I won't give you up! Nume, I— I will try to free myself. It must not be, now. It would be wrong- ing all of us. Sweetheart, I never cared for her. I never loved any one in the world but you, and I think I loved you even that first night. I will tell her all about it, Numfe. She is a good woman, and V ^54 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. Di will give me my freedom. Then she will go back to America, and we will be married and be together here — in this garden of Eden." He was holding her little hands in his now, and looking into her face hungrily. "Think of it, Nume," he repeated; "only you and I together — always together — no more parting at the turn of the road — no more long, long nights alone. Oh! Num^! Num^!" "But Orito?" she said, with pitiful pain. "Ah! my father would surely kill me. You dunno my people." "Yes, I do, sweetheart. You must tell them— they will forgive in time — promise me, Num^ — sweetheart. ' ' He drew her towards him, but the girl still held back. "Wait," she cried, almost in terror. "We jfiNs' be sure firs' t/iac^ my father, t/iad Orito will not kill- ing me." "Kill you!" the man scoffed at the idea. "Bud Num^ is afraid," she persisted, and pulled her little hands desperately from his. She ran a little way from him, a sudden feelin j of shyness and terror possessing her. "Koto!" she called. At the bend of the road where they were wont to part Sinclair helped her into the waiting jinrikisha. Her little hand rested against his sleeve for a moment. She was not afraid now — now that Koto was with her, and the runners were watching them. She was not afraid to let him read her little heart A PASSIONATE DECLARATION. 155 now. Such a look of tenderness and love and pas- sion was in her small flower face as filled Sinclair with a wild elation. "My little passion flower," he whispered, and bending kissed her little hand fervently. 156 XIISS NUME OK JAPAN. I ; CHAPTER XLI. A HARD SUBJECT TO HANDLE. When the girls reached their home that afternoon they found Mrs. Davis waiting for them. Num^, who thrilled with a joy she herself could not compre- hend, ran to her, and putting her arms about her neck, clung with a sudden passion to her. "Oh, Numb is so habby, " she said. Mrs. Davis imdid the clinging arms, and looked the girl in the face. Then Nunie noticed for the first time that the American lady was unusually silent, and seemed almost offended about something. Nume tried to shake off the loving mood that still lingered with her, for where one is in love there is a desire to caress and shower blessings every- where, and on all living creatures. So it was with Num^. "I want to have a talk with you, Nume dear, Mrs. Davis, said, gravely ; and then turning coldly to Koto she added, "No, not even Koto mast stay." The little maid left them together. "Numb, how could you be so sly?" "Sly!" the girl was startled. "Yes — to think that all these ck.s en on have been pretending to be alone itli Koto in the woods, you have been meeting Mr. Sine! .ir. " The girl turned on her defiantly. A HARD SUBJECT TO liANDLE. 157 "I nod telling you account tha's nod business for you." "Well, Numb!" "I getting vaery lonely, and meeting only by acci- dent with Mr. Sinka. " "Does your father know?" the other atikcd, relentlessly. The girl approached her with terror. "No! Oh, Mrs. Davees, don't tell yet." After a time she asked her: "How did j^« know?" "I learned it by accident through a clerk at the consulate. How he knows — and how many others know of it, I cannot say." She almost wrung her hands in her distress. She saw it was no use being angry with Nume, and that she might do more by being patient with her. She had learned merely the fact of Sinclair's being in the woods each day with a Japanese girl. This had vset her to thinking; Koto's and Numb's long absences in the country each day — a few questions and a handful of sen to the runners who had been loitering in her vicinity for some days now with their vehicles, and she soon knew the truth. Just how far things had gone between Sinclair and Numb she must find out from the girl herself, though she was not prepared to trust her completely when she realized how Numb had deceived her all these weeks. She was determined to help Cleo, and felt almost guilty when she remembered that she had urged the girl to make the trip which might result in so much disaster to her, for Jenny Davis knew Cleo Ballard well enough to know that it 11 \\\ T 158 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. ■ ca ii- would break her heart to give Sinclair up now, after all the years she had waited for him. "Num^," she said, quite sadly, "don't look at me so resentfully. I want only to do my duty by you and my friend. Let me be your friend. Oh I Numb, if you had confided in me we could have avoided all this. ' ' Nume had a tender spot in her heart for Mrs. Davis, who had always been so good to her. ''Forgive Nume," she said, impulsively, and for a moment the two women clung together, the Amer- ican woman almost forgetting, for the moment, everything save the girl's sweet spontaneity and impulsiveness. Then she pulled herself together, remembering Cleo. "Nume, tell me just what — just how — all about the — the meetings with Mr. Sinclair." The girl shook her head, flushed and rebellious. "Me? I nod tell. Mr. vSinka tell me — all too saked. ' * Mrs. Davis caught her breath. "He told you — told you the — the — meetings were sacred?" Nume nodded : "Ess." "Then he is not an honorable man, Nume. because he is betrothed to another woman. ' ' "Bud he writing her to breag'," the girl said. triumphantly. "He write about? Are write — what?" to — Nume, what are you talking' you conscienceless? When did he A HARD SUBJECT TO HANDLE. 159 "He say he writing soon, and I telling Orito, too. " The girl's complacency cut Mrs. Davis to the quick. She forgot ai] about Cleo's flirtations. She remembered only that Cleo was her dearest friend- that this strange Japanese girl might cause her immeasurable trouble and pain, and that she must do something to prevent it. ''Num^, you can't really care for— for Sinclair." ''Ess— I luf," the girl interrupted, softly. "Come and sit at my knee, Num^, like— like you used to do. So! now I will tell you a little story. How hot your little head is— you are tired? No? Oh, Num^, Nume, you have been a very foolish- very cruel little girl." Nevertheless, she bent and kissed the wistful upturned face. i6o MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER XLII. A STORY. 1 1 "Once there was a young girl," Mrs. Davis began, "who was born in a beautiful city away across the seas. She was just as beautiful and good — as — as you are, Numb. But, although the city was very beautiful in which she lived, she had very little in her life to make her happy. She lived all alone in a house so big that the halls and stairways were as long as — as the pagodas. She seldom saw her father because he was always away traveling, and, besides, he did not love children much. Her mother was always sick, and when the little girl came near her she would fret and worry, and say that the little girl made her nervous. So she grew up very, very hungry for some one to love her. After a time, when she became a beautiful young lady, many men thought they loved her; but she had grown so used to not loving, and to not being loved by any one, that she never could care for any of them. At last there came one man who seemed different to her from all the others. And, Num^, he fell in love with her — and she loved him. Oh ! you don't know how much they loved each other. They were with each other constantly, and, and, — are yoii tired?" she interrupted herself to ask the girl, who had moved restlessly. "No." A STORY. i6i "Well, Numfe, then her lover, that she loved so much you would have cried to have seen her, went far, far away from her to take a fine position, and he promised her faithfully that he would love only her, and would send for her soon. So the girl waited. But he did not send for her soon, Num^. He kept putting off and putting off— till three long years had passed; and all this time she had been true to him— waiting for him only to say the word to come. Then, at last, he wrote to her, asking her to come to him all the way across the seas— thou- sands and thousands of miles, and she left her beau- tiful home, and came with her sick mother to join him." Nume's eyes were fastened on her face with a look of intense interest. "Ess?" she said, as the American lady paused. "When she reached him she found he had changed— though she had not. He was cold, and always bored; kind to her at times, and indifferent at others. Still, she loved him so much she forgave him, and was so sweet and gentle to him that even he began to melt and began to be kinder to her, and all, Numb, would have turned out happily, and he would have loved her as he used to, only— only " she paused in her story. She had exaggerated and drawn on her imagination strongly in order to make an impression on Numb; for she knew the girl's weakness lay in her tender heart. "C'w/ywhad, Mrs. Davees?" "Numb— the girl was Miss Ballard— the man Mr. Sinclair. Oh, Nume, you don't want to separate I l><' :t:l 162 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. them now after all these years. Think how cruel it would be. It would kill her, and " Num^ had risen to her feet. She looked out at the burning blaze of the oriental landscape, the end- less blue of the fields — at the misty mountains in the distance. She was trying to reason. The first real trouble of her life had come to her. She thought of all to whom she would bring sorrow should she yield to Sinclair; of the two old fathers, for she knew nothing as yet of what Onto had told them. She thought of the beautiful American girl, and remem- bered the look on her face that night of the ball. She wondered how she would have felt in her place. Her voice was quite subdued and hushed as she turned to Mrs. Davis. "Numb will marry only Orito," she said. "Numb will tell Mr. Sinkaso." The other woman put her arms around the girl and attempted to draw her to her with the old affec- tion ; but Numb shrank strangely from her, and per- haps half the pleasure at her success was lost as Mrs. Davis saw the look of mute suffering in the girl's face. THE TRUTH OF THE PROVERB. 163 CHAPTER XLIII. THE TRUTH OF THE PROVERB. It was with a heart full of yearning and love that Sinclair waited for Num6 the next day. She was late ; or was it that that last look of hers had turned his head so that he had come earlier than usual to the spot, unable to wait the appointed time? He found himself planning their future together. How he would love her — ^his bright tropic flower, his pure shining star— his singing bird. Every leaf that stirred startled him. He tried to absorb him- self in the beauty of the country, but his restless- ness at her failure to come caused him to go constantly to the road and see if there were any signs of her. At last he heard the faint, unmistakable beat, beat, beat of sandaled runners. They started his blood throbbing wildly through his veins. She was coming— the woman he loved, the dear little woman who had told him she loved him — not in words — but with that last parting, sweet look; and oh! Num^ was too sweet, too genuine, too pure, to deceive. As he helped her from the jinrikisha and looked at her with all his pent-up longing and eagerness, she turned her head aside with a constrained look. Koto stayed close by her, and refused to take any suggestion from Sinclair to leave them alone together. U i. '"'■I ni 164 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. Numb began to talk hastily, and as though she could not wait. "We have had lots of fon, Mr. Sinka?" "Fun!— why, Numb!" She opened her little fan and shaded her face a moment. "Ess — Numb and all Japanese girl luf to have fon. ' ' "Nume — I don't like that word. It is inappli- cable in our case. ' ' He tried to take her hand in his, but it clung per- sistently to her fan, while the other remained hidden in the folds of her robe. "My little girl is quite cross," he said, thinking she was trying to tease him. "No! Nume nod mos' vaery cross;" after a moment she added, in a hard voice: "Nume does nod wafit to have any tnore fon. ' ' She clung to that word persistently. "You do not want any more fun. Numb!" he repeated, slowly; "I don't understand you." "Ess — it is a/l fon," she said. "All fon thad we pretending to luf. ' * "All fun?" he echoed, stupidly. "What is all fun, Nume? Why, what is the matter, sweetheart — why so contrary to-day?" "Nosing is madder 'cept that Numb does nod wand any more fon with you — she tired vaer}f much of Mr. Sinka." A silence, tragic in its feeling, passed between them. "What do you mean. Numb?" He was still stupid. THE TRUTH OF THE PROVERB 165 "That I only have fon to pretend that I luf you — I am very tired now. ' ' A gray pallor had stolen over the man's face. "You — you are trying to jest with me, Nume," he said unsteadily. The truth began to dawn on him gradually. He remembered his doubts of the former day. He had been deceived in her after all! Oh! fool that he was to have trusted her — and now — now he had not thought himself capable of such fierce love — yet he loved her in spite of her deceit, her falsity. He got up and stood back a little way from her, leaning against a tree and looking down at her where she sat. A sudden wild sense of loss swept over him. Then his voice returned — it was muffled and unfamiliar even to his own ears. "Numfe!" was all he said; but he stretched his arms toward her with such yearning and pain that the girl rose suddenly and ran blindly from him. Koto following. On, and on, to where the jinrikisha was waiting. Koto helped, almost lifted her bodily in, and as the runner started down the road, Numfe put her head back against Koto and quietly fainted away. When she came to herself she was in a high fever. She called pitifully for Sinclair, begging Koto to take her to him — to go to him and tell him that she did not mean what she had said ; that she was try- ing to help Mrs. Davis; that she loved only him, and a thousand other pitiful messages. But Mrs. Davis had her carried to her house and stood at her bedside, invincible as Fate. 12 m i; III I i66 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. Sinclair remained where she had left him for some time, the same dazed expression on his face. When the girl had darted from the fallen tree on which they had sat, she had dropped something in her flight. Mechanically he stooped and picked it up. It was a Japanese-American primer. Numfe and he had studied out of it together. He ground his teeth with wild pain, but he threw the book from him as if it had been poison. He ran his hand through his hair, tried to think a moment, and then sat down on the fallen tree, his face in his hands. There Taylor and Shiku came across him, sitting alone, looking out at the smooth, scintillating waters of the Hayama. "Had a sunstroke, old man?" Taylor asked. "No;" he rose abruptly to his feet. "I — I was just thinking, Taylor — just thinking — thinking of — of what you had told me a month or so ago. Do you remember — it was about Japanese women?" "Er — yes, about them having no heart. Remem- ber we decided the poet— or fool, we called him — was wrong." "He was wrong only about the flower, Taylor." NUME BREAKS DOWN. 167 CHAPTER XLIV. NUME BREAKS DOWN. A few days later Orito returned to Tokyo. His father's house was strangely sad and gloomy. On his return home from America it had been thrown open, as if to catch every bright ray of light and happiness. Now it was darkened. Sachi no longer sat in the little garden, but he and Omi were indoors trying to pass the time playing a game which resembled checkers. Neither of them greeted Orito otherwise than sadly, both of them letting him see in every way that he had wounded them deeply, although Omi was a trifle hopeful and often told Sachi that he had great hopes that Orito would change his mind, that something would turn up to help them. Sachi, on the other hand, was inconsolable. Moreover, he was growing quite old and feeble, and this last dis- appointment seemed to have stooped his shoulders and whitened his hair even more. Orito tried to cheer them up, telling them of some clever business deal he had made in Yokohama, by which he had sold a large tract of land for a good round sum. "How is Num^?" he asked. The old man shook his head sadly. "Quite sick," he said. "She grew very sad and i I i 1 68 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. lonely for a time, and about a week ago she broke down when out with her maid, and was carried to Mrs. Davis' house, where she has been ever since. ' ' "I'll go right over and see her," Orito said, with concern. He found Num^ looking very thin and wan. She was lying on an English sofa. Koto was beside her, singing very softly as she played on her samisen. Orito paused on the threshold, listening to the last weird, thrilling notes of the beautiful song, ' ' Sayo- nara" (Farev/ell). "It is indeed very sad to find you sick, Nume," he said, gently, as he sat down beside her. She smiled faintly. "I am afraid you have kept too much in seclusion. Numb. You ought to go out more into the open air. ' ' Still the girl smiled silently — a pitiful, trembling, patient smile. Mrs. Davis came into the room and welcomed Orito, trying to cheer the girl up at the same time. "Now we will get better soon," she said, pinching the girl's chin — "now that Orito has come home." "Ess," the girl answered, vaguely. "Nume will be bedder now." Koto laid her face against the sick girl's, caressing her little head with her hand. "Your voice is so weak, Nume-san," she said. A look of genuine sympathy and affection passed between mistress and maid. Koto understood her, if no one else did. Koto loved her and would stand by her through thick and thin. NL'ME BREAKS DOWN. 169 Ont(j expressed himself to Mrs. Davis as being very shocked to find Nume so weak and thin. He had not heard of her illness. How long had it been? "Only a few days," Mrs. Davis told him. It had been very sudden. She would improve soon, now that Orito had returned. Her persistency in dwelling on the fact that it depended on him — the restoration of Num^'s health — irritated Orito. He knew Nume better than Mrs. Davis imagined ; and knew, also, that she did not love him so that for the sake of it she would suddenly break down and become as white and frail as a lily beaten by a brutal wind. Koto talked to him rapidly in Japanese. She wanted them to return home soon. Neither she nor Num^ were comfortable. "Nume wanted to be all alone with Koto, where no one — not e\ en the kind Americans — could intrude until she should be better again." "I will carry her across the fields now," Orito said, and told Mrs. Davis of his intention of doing so. That lady seemed very anxious that the girl should not be removed for several days. But Num^ settled the question by rising up from the couch and saying she was perfectly strong, and wanted to return home ; that she would always be grateful for the kindness Mrs. Davis had shown her, but would Orito please take her home? The American lady was in tears. She kissed the girl repeatedly before letting her go, but Nume was too listless to be responsive. :' 170 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. Ever since that day when she had fainted in the jinrikisha and had awakened in a high fever, Numb had been sick — ill with no particular malady, save perhaps the strain and shock. Mrs. Davis had been very kind to her, waiting on her with her own hands, once staying up all night with her. In fact, she and Koto had vied with each other in serving and doing everything to plea ,j her, but Numfe seemed to have lost interest in everything. The only thing that soothed her was for Koto to sing and play very gently to her, and this the little maid did constantly. t» y r 1 » TRYING TO FORGET. 171 CHAPTER XLV. TRYING TO FORGET. / ^ V Sinclair had become suddenly attached to his work. He deserted the country for the city, remain- ing sometimes quite late in the evening in his office, attending to certain matters that had collected dur- ing his absences from the office. One was the case of an American missionary who had been arrested for attempting to bribe school boys to become Kirishitans (Christians). The charge against him was that he had caused dissension in several of the public schools by bribing certain of the poorer chil- dren to leave their schools, and, in some cases, their homes, and attend the missionary school in Tokyo. It was said that he had become a terror to parents in the district, who were afraid of losing their chil- dren, for he generally got them to accompany him by paying them small sums of money. One deserter who had been converted to the Christian belief by a bright silver yen, was accred- ited with having told him after he had become a backslider and the missionary had reproached him : "You pay me ten more sen I go to church — you pay me twenty sen I love Jesus. ' ' On the other hand, the missionary declared he had merely interfered and protested at the harsh treatment Christian children received at the hands A\ Mi 172 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. I I I i of their playmates in the schools, and which he de jlared was encouraged by the teachers. In this W£ y he had antagonized some bitter Japanese agcClnst him, who had had him unjustly arrested and thrown into prison. The case was quite a serious one, as the mission- ary was a well-known man in America. It gave Sinclair plenty of thought and work, and he was untiring in his endeavor to obtain his dischai-ge. He had seen nothing of Numb since that day in the woods, when she had told him she had never cared for him. In spite of constant visitors and the volume of his work, which he tried person ^illy to superintend for the time being, Sinclair could not forget Nimie. The moment he was left to himself his mind would revert to the girl, to the dreamy days he had spent with her in the woods, to little things she had said that lingered in his mind like Japanese miisic. In spite of himself he could not hate her. Had she been an cidinary woman it might have been different, but with Nume could he cherish anything harshe ' against her than regret? He tried to assure himself that he had put her from his mind altogether, that after all she was unworthy of his pain, but every incident that came up which reminded him of her, found him wander- ing back to the dear dead days he had spent with her^ days that were tinged with bitterness and regret now. AN OBSERVANT HUSBAND. 173 CHAPTER XLVI. AN OBSERVANT HUSBAND. So, though Sinclair tried honestly to forget Num^ and harden himself against her, he could not do so. He grew so thin and wretched looking that his friends began to notice it. They thought it was due to the fact that he had worked so hard lately on the missionary's case. "You ought to take a rest and change of some sort, Sinclair," Mr. Davis told him, "now that you have got the missionary off. Why not take a run down to Matsushima, where the Ballards are? Cleo thinks the spot even more beautiful than about Fuji-Yama. " "I hadn't thought of g'^'ing away," Sinclair said, absently; "besides, Cleo is coming back next v^reek, anj^how. " "Well, suppose you run down for the rest of the week, and then come home with the party, ' ' Sinclair remained thinking a moment. "Yes, perhaps it would divert me for the time being," he said, drawing his brows together with a sudden flash of pain, as he remembered how he had once told Nume that they would visit Matsushima together, some day. Mr. Davis left him at his desk. "Can't make out what's the matter with Sinclair," 12 W I 174 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. lie told his wife. "He looks wretched, and is as absent-minded as he can be. Seems to be worrying about something." "He no doubt is — a — lonely, Walter. When Cleo returns he will be all right." In the same way as she trusted or tried to make herself believe that Orito's presence would cure Numfe, so she liked to imagine that Cleo Ballard's return would raise Sinclair out of the despondency into which he had fallen. "No — Jenny, I think you make a mistake about Sinclair's caring so much for Cleo," Walter Davis said, slowly. "What makes you say that?" his wife interrupted, sharply, fearful that he had guessed something dur- ing Nume's illness in their house; for she had told him nothing, as yet. Her husband hesitated a moment before answer- ing, then he said : "Fact is, I saw on his desk quite a batch of unopened letters. I -Aranted Sinclair to go some- where with me. He pleaded press of business, and I took it he had to answer those letters. They were all from one person. Jenny, and were lying in a letter basket on his desk without ev i^ the seals broken. I made the remark that he had quite a lot of mail for one day. What do you think he answered? 'This is nearly a week's mail' — and said he had forgotten the letters. ' ' Davis flicked the ash from his cigar into a receiver, then he continued, slowly: "My dear, the letters were from Cleo Ballard. I know her writing. A i is.' AN OBSERVANT HUSBAND. 175 man does not let the letters from a girl he is in love with remain unopened long," he added. . Mrs. Davis got up. ''Walter," she said, indig- nantly, "that man is a— a brute." I 1 IjG MISS NUME OF JAPAN. 1: i t ! < i CHAPTER XLVII. MATSUSHIMA BAY. Matsushima Bay is perhaps one of the most beau- tiful spots in Japan. It is on the northeastern coast, and being cool and refreshing is a favorite summer resort. Coimtless rocks of huge size and form are scattered in the bay, and these rocks are covered with pine trees. Unnamed flowers bloom also on these rocks and burn their surface with flaring colors. It may be that the rocks are even more nutritious than the earth itself; for the tall pines that take their root in them seem more graceful and delicate than those found on land, and the flowers are more fragrant and lovely than those of a fairy- land dream. About eight miles from the northern shore, where rests the beautiful city of Sendai, towers Mount Tomi, only a shadowy tracing in the evening skies. It was in the city of Sendai that the party of tour- ists had settled. They were charmed wi'h the beauty of their surroundings, and being, most of them, ardent lovers of nature, made daily trips, exploring the country, visiting the temple Zuiganji, which is located only a few ch^ :\ \ 6^ '^"l^'f^ %' '^^ 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 I .; ii 196 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. "My mistress, Numfe-san, luf vou so much that she going to die, I thing'." Sinclair stood up, a strange, doubting, uncompre- hending look on his face. "What do you mean, Koto?" he asked, sternly. "Are you trying to — to fool me about something?" "No! No I I not to fool with you. I tell you the trute. Mrs. Davis tell Num^ of vaery sad story account the august Americazan lady wait long many years for you, that you love her always, just not love for a liddle while, because of Nume, that " A sudden light began to break in on Sinclair. "So Num^ tell you she not to luf because she want to serve the honorable Americazan ladies and not to pain her father and Takashima Sachi. Then she get vaery sick. She cry for you all the time, and when she is very sick she say: 'Koto, go tell Mr. Sinka I not mean.' Then when she is better she say : ' No ; Koto must not go. ' " Sinclair sat down again, and shaded his face with his hand. His mind was in confusion. He could not think. Only out of the jumble of his thoughts came one idea — that Numb loved him, after all. Now he remembered how unnatural, how excited, she had been that last day. Ah, what a fool he was to have believed her then! His voice was quite unsteady when he broke the long silence. "Koto! Koto! how can I ever repay you for what you have done?" The little maid was weeping bitterly. "Ah ! Koto is vaery 'fraid that she tell you all this, account Mrs. Davis will speag that I mur' not A LITTLE HEROINE. 197 worg any longer for Numfe ; she will tell her rela- tives so, and they will send me away. Then Nume will be all alone ; because only Koto love Nume for- ever." Sinclair was smiling very tenderly. "You have forgotten me, Koto. I will take care of both of you, never fear, little woman. I am going with you to her now. ' ' "It is too late now," the girl said. "Nume will have retired when we reach home. Shiku is going to take me home, and to-morrow will you coma?" She rose from her seat, looking more hopeful and happy than when she had first come in. "You will make it all good again," she said, look- ing up at him with somewhat of Num^'s confidence : "for you are so big.'' 14 198 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER LIV. SINCLAIR LEARNS THE TRUTH AT LAST. h"' . 4 After Koto had left Sinclair he sat down to think. His brain was whirling, for his thoughts and plans were in confusion. His first impulse had been to go straight to Numb ; but he had promised Koto to wait until the following day. Now that he was alone, he suddenly remembered Cleo Ballard. Was he free to go, after all? Could he desert Cleo now while she lay so sick and helpless? His joy in the renewed assurance of Nume's love for him had been suddenly tinged with bitter pain. What could he do? He slept none through the night. In the morn- ing of the next day he hurried over to the hotel and made his usual enquiries after Cleo's health. Mr. and Mrs. Davis, with Tom, had done their best to prevent him from knowing the cause of Orito's sui- cide. Various reasons had been suggested; and after the first alarm had worn off, and the bodies had been interred with due ceremony, the excite- ment subsided somewhat, so that they had hopes of the talk quieting down, and perhaps dying out aVo- gether, without the truth reaching Sinclair's ears; for, knowing him to be her betrothed, there were few who were unkind or unscrupulous enough to tell him. As Sinclair passed through the hotel corridor on SINCLAIR LEARNS THE TRUTH AT LAST. 199 hit» way to the front door, Fanny Morton came down the wide staircase of the hotel. She stopped him as he was going out. ''Let me express my sympathy," she said, sweetly. "Your sympathy!" he said, coldly; for he did not like her. '*I do not understand you, Miss Morton." "Yes," she cooed. "I am sure lean vouch for Cleo that she never dreamed he would take it so seriously. I was with them on the voyage out, you know, and indeed Cleo often said the passengers were dull. He cheered her up, and — and " "Really, Miss Morton, I am at a loss to under- stand you," he said, curtly. Fanny Morton showed her colors. There was no suggestion of sweetness in her voice now. "I mean that everyone knows that Mr. Takashima killed himself because he was in love with Miss Bal- lard ; because she let him believe on the boat that she reciprocated his— affection, and the night of the ball she told him the truth. He killed himself, they say, hardly an hour after he had seen her. " Jenny Davis stood right at the back of them. She had heard the woman's venomous words, but was powerless to refute them. Sinclair felt her eyes fixed on him with an entreaty that was pitiful. He raised his hat to Fannie Morton. "I will wish you good morning," he said, cut- tingly, and that was all. Then he turned to the other woman. "Let us go in here," he said, and drew her into a small sitting-room. "What does that woman mean?" he asked. ' JIOO MISS NUME OF JAPAN. Mrs. Davis had broken down. *'We can't keep on pretending any longer, Mr. Sinclair. Yes; it is true, what she says. Poor Cleo did lead him on, thoughtlessly — you know the rest. ' ' A look of dogged sternness began to settle on Sinclair's face. "Then she was the real cause of " "No! no! don't say that. Arthur, she never Intended doing any harm. Cleo would not willingly harm anything or any one. She really liked him. Tom will tell you. It was the reason why she never had the heart to tell him — of — of her engagement to you." For a long time the two sat in moody silence. Then Sinclair said, almost bitterly: "And it was for her that Numfe suifered " "Why, Num^ — is — what do you mean?" the other asked, showing signs of hysteria. "Yes; Mrs. Davis, I know the truth," he said, grimly. "I understand that you thought you were really serving Cleo and myself by acting so— but — well, a man is not cured of love so easily, you know. She (Num^) gave me up because she did not want to spoil a good woman's life, as she thought, after what you told her. This same woman did not scruple to take from her the man who might have comforted her after everything else had failed. Now she is utterly alone. " "I won't say anything now," Mrs. Davis said, bitterly. "I can't defend myself. You would not understand. It is easy to be hard where we do not love ; — that is why you have no mercy on Cleo." SINCLAIR LEARNS THE TRUTH AT LAST. 201 "I am thinking of Numfe, ' the man answered. "May I ask what you intend to do?" "Last night I was uncertain. This morning, now that I know the truth, things are plain before me. I am going to Numfe, ' ' he added, firmly. "But Cleo?" the other almost implored. "I cannot think of her now." "But you will have to see her. What can you tell her? We are hiding from her, as best we can, the fact of — of the tragedy. That would kill her; as for your ceasing to care for her, she suspected the possibility of it long ago, and might survive that. Yet how can she know the one without the other?" Sinclair remained thinking a moment. "There is only one way. Let her think of me what she will. You are right; if possible the truth — even Takashima's death — must be kept from her so long as she is too weak to bear the knowledge. Can we not have her make the return voyage soon? I will write to her, and though it will sound brutal, I will tell her that the reason why I cannot be more to her than a friend is — because I — I do not love her, — that I love another woman." Mrs, Davis was weeping bitterly. All her efforts and plans had been of no avail in Cleo's behalf. She saw it now, and did not even try to hold Sinclair. "Yes," she said, almost wildly. "Go to Nume — she will comfort you. At least your sorrows and hers have ended, now. But as for ours — Cleo's and mine, for I have always loved her better than if she were my own sister — we will try to forget, too." i 03 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER LV. LOVERS AGAIN. Koto had told Numfe nothing of her visit to Sin- clair. The girl had been so stunned by the deaths of her father, Orito, and Sachi, that Koto had not the heart even to tell her good news ; for when our friends are in sorrow the best comfort one can give is to weep and sorrow with them; — so the Japanese believe. Besides, she wanted Sinclair's coming to be a surprise to the girl. In Numb's great sorn w and illness she would have no one by her save Koto, and once m a while Koto's friend, Matsu, who was visiting them. Koto had had her come to the house because she played the harp so beautifully, and she knew the music would please Num^. Both the girls tried in every way to make up to the grieving orphan for the sor- rows that had suddenly come to darken her young life. Often the three would sit together hand in hand, Nume between her two friends, speaking no word to each other, but each feeling strangely com- forted and refreshed with the others' love and sym- pathy. After the funeral ceremony, Num^ had awakened somewhat out of her apathy, and tried to take interest in things about her ; but it was a piti- ful effort, and always made Koto weep so much that one day Matsu had suggested to her that she go to LOVERS AGAIN. 2 0J the city and see the American and tell him the truth. For Numb ^had told Koto of what Mrs. Davis had caused her to do ; and Koto, in her turn, had told Matsu. "You have become too secluded and proud, Koto," the city geisha girl told her. "It is an easy matter to go to the city and perhaps you will do Nume and the American a great service. I will stay with Nume-san while you are gone, and will wait on her just as if I .vere indeed her maid instead of your being so." It was in this way Koto had been induced to visit the American. The next morning, as she and Nume sat together, she said: "Nume-san, did you know why Orito killed him- self?" "No." "It was because he loved the honorable American lady." Nume did not interrupt her. Koto continued; "The beautiful one that was betrothed to Mr. Sinka." Nume's little hands were clasped in her lap. She did not speak, still. Koto went on: "You see, she was not worthy, after all, that you sacrificed the pretty American gentleman for her, for Matsu says that all the Amer- icans say at the hotel that she tell Orito sometime that she love him just for fun — and she not love — so Takashima Orito kill himself." Still Numb did not reply. Her little head had fallen back weakly against the pillow. She was i 'I n 304 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. t til looking away out before her. After a time Koto put her arms about her, and they clung together. *'Koto," Numfe said, vaguely, "will you leave me now? Or will you stay with me forever? Numfe is so lonely now. " Koto evaded the question. "I will stay with you, Numb-san, until you do not need me any longer. ' ' "That will never be," the other said, tenderly. That afternoon Koto fetched her samisen and played very softly to Numfe. After a time she laid her instrument aside and went to the door, shading her face with her hand as she scanned the road. It was about the hour Sinclair had told her to expect him. vShe heard the beat of his runners before they were within a mile of the house. *'I am going to leave you all alone, for a little while," she told Num^. She went down to meet Sinclair, and admitted him into the house. She pointed to the room where Numfe was and then left him. Sinclair pushed aside the shoji and passed into the room. Numfe raised her head languidly at the opening of the screens. At first she thought she was dreaming, and she sat up straight on the little couch on which she had been resting. Suddenly Sinclair was beside her, and had taken her bodily into his arms. "Numfe! Numfe!" he whispered; — and then, as she struggled faintly to be free, he said, blissfully, "Oh, I know the truth, little sweetheart, though it is too good for me to understand it yet. Koto has LOVERS AGAIN. 205 IS told me everything, and— and oh! Numb!" He kissed the wistful eyes rapturously. He scarcely knew her, she had grown so quiet and sad. In the woods she had chattered con- stantly to him;— now, he could not make her say anything. But after a while, when Sinclair had chided her for her silence, she said, very shyly : "Do you luf me, Mr. Sinka, bedder than the beautiful Americazan lady?" Sinclair raised her little face between his two hands. "Sweetheart — do you need to ask?" he said. "I have never loved any one but you. ' ' The girl smiled— the first time she had smiled in weeks. Her two little hands met round his neck, she rose on tiptoe. "Numb lig' to kees with you," she said, artlessly. There is no need to tell what Sinclair answered. When the shadows began to deepen, he and Nume still sat together on the small lounge, neither of them conscious of time or place. They were renew- ing their acquaintance with each other, and each was discovering new delights in the other. It was Koto who broke in on them. She had been in the next room all the time, and had watched them through small peep-holes in the wall. She made a great noise at the other side of it to let them know it was now getting late. They looked at each other smiling, both comprehending. "Koto is our iviQndiforaever,'' Numb said. "We will be Koto's friends forever," Sinclair answered. 14 206 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER LVI. THE PENALTY. When Sinclair returned to the city that night he sat down in his office and wrote a letter to Cleo Ballard. It was the most difficult thing he had ever done in his life. It told her briefly of his love for Numfe. He felt he could not be a good husband to her so long as he loved another woman. It was better she knew it than to find it out after they had married. Mrs. Davis gave it to Cleo when she thought her strong enough to bear the shock. She read it with white lips, her poor, thin hands tiembling as the letter slipped to her feet, "I expected it," she said, bitterly, to Mrs. Davis; and then suddenly, without the smallest warning, she leaned over and picked the scattered sheets from the floor and tore them into a thousand frag- ments with such fierceness that it frightened her friend. After that day Mrs. Davis devoted herself more than ever to her friend, and scarce left her alone for a moment. A strange calm and quiet had come over Cleo. She would sit for hours by an open window, perfectly silent, with her hands clasped in her lap, looking out before her with large THE PENALTY. 207 eyes which were dry of tears, but which held a nameless brooding. Mrs. Davis tried in every way to cheer her up, but though she protested that she was not suffer- ing, yet she could not deceive her friend who knew her so well. "You are going to be happy, dear, and as soon as you are strong enough we'll make the voyage back. You didn't know I was going with you, did you? Well, dear," her sweet voice faltered,' "/ couldn't bear to stay here—after— after you were gone. We will all be happy when in America a^raiu. I believe that's what has made us all more or less gloomy. We have been homesick. Japan is all right, beautiful and all that— but, well, it is not America. We never couid feel the same here. ' ' So she rattled on to Cleo, trying to tak.^ the girl's thoughts out of herself. And then, one day, Cleo turned to her and told her very quietly that she knew everything. Mrs. Davis gasped. "Ever)^thing!" She looked at the girl's calm, emotionless face in horror. "And— and you " "I've known it sometime now," the girl con- tinued, grimly. She heard the other woman sob- bing for her, and put her hand out and found the little sympathetic one extended. "I know— know, dear, how you tried to hide it from me," she smiled faintly; "that could not be." Mrs. Davis was mute. Cleo was an enigma to her now. *'I never guessed you knew. " ,J ao8 I + 1 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. *' I V I I! i ! "No? Mother told me. She did not mean to be cruel, but she was not well herself then, and she — she reproached me." She rose suddenly to her feet, the same still, white look on her face that had come there when she had read Sinclair's letter. She turned on her friend with an almost fierce movement. "Why don't you hate me?" she said, with only half -repressed vehemence. "Why does not every one — as I do myself?" She was beyond the comfort of her friend now. Jenny Davis could only watch her with wide eyes of wonder and agony. For a moment the girl paced the room with restless, dragging step, like a wild caged thing. "Jenny, I will tell you something now. You may laugh at me — laugh as — I can — as I do myself, but " Again she paused, and she put her hand to her throat as though the words choked her. "After I read that — that letter, it seemed as if something broke in me — not my heart — no, don't think that; but at first I felt desolate, with a loneli- ness you could never comprehend. He had been in my mind so many years then. Yes, I know — I had expected it all — but it was a shock at first. I never could face anything painful all my life, and when I actually knew the truth — when I read his letter, and it was cruel, after all, Jenny, I wanted to go away somewhere and hide myself — no — I wanted to go to some one — some one who really loved me, and cry my heart out. Don't you understand me, Jenny? Oh, you must " her voice was THE PENALTY. 209 dragging painfully now. "I wanted — to — go — to Onto!" "Cleo!" *'Yes, it is true," she went on, wildly. *'//«• was better than the other. So much tenderer and truer — the best man I ever knew — the only ])er- son in the whole world who ever really loved me. And I — Jenny, I killed him! Think of it, and pity me — no, don't pity me — I deserve none And then — and then " she was beginninyf to lose command of her speech now. Mrs. Davis tried to draw her into a chair, but she put the clinging, loving hands from her and continued : "When I wanted him — when that other liad deserted '■>: — had let me know the truth that he never did care for mc — never did care for me," she repeated, incoherently, "and I loved him all those years. I used to lie awake at night and cry for him, — for Orito — for his comfort — just as I do now. I cannot help myself. I thought I would go to him and tell him everything — he would under- stand — how — how my heart had awakened — how I must have loved him all along. And then — then mother burst out at me only last week, Jenny, and told me the truth — that — that he was dead — that he had killed himself ; no — that I had killed him. Do you wonder I did not die — go mad when I learned the truth? Oh, Jenny, I am half dead — I am so numb, dead to all pleasure, all hope in life. ' ' She had been speaking spasmodically; at first with a hard, metallic ring to her voice, and then wildly and passionately. Now her voice suddenly 210 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. trembled and melted. She was still quite weak, and had excited herself. Her friend caught her to her breast just in time for the flood of tears to come — tears that were a necessary, blessed relief. She broke down utterly and began to sob in a pitiful, hopeless, heart-breaking fashion. From that day, however, she seemed to improve, though she was erratic and moody. She would insist on seeing all the callers — those who came because of their genuine liking for her, and sorrow in her illness, and the larger number who came out of curiosity. However much of her heart she had shown to Mrs. Davis, no one else of all Cleo's friends guessed the turmoil that battled in her breast. THE PITY OF IT ALL. 21 I CHAPTER LVII. THE PITY OF IT ALL. Although it was nearly two weeks since Sinclair had written to her, she had not seen him once. He had talked the matter over with Tom and Mrs. Davis, and they had decided that, for a time at least, it would be best for her not to see him. About a week before the Ballards sailed, Cleo wrote to Sinclair. She made no allusion whatever to his letter to her. She simply asked him to come and see her before she left Japan, and without a moment's hesitation Sinclair went straight to her. He could afEord to be generous now that his own happiness was assured. It was a strange meeting. The man was at first constrained and ill at ease. On the other hand, the girl met him in a perfectly emotionless, calm fashion. She gave him her hand steadily, and her voice did not falter in the slightest. "I want you to know the truth," she said, "before I go away. ' ' "Don't let us talk about it, Cleo," Sinclair said. "It will only cause you pain." "That is what I deserve," she said. "That is why I have always been wrong— I was afraid to look anything painful in the face. I avoided and shrank from it till— till it broke my heart. It does nie good now to talk— to speak of it all. " I if I',: li d rv- 212 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. He sat down beside Cleo, and looked at her with eyes of compassion. "You must not pity me," she said, a trifle unsteadily. "I do not deserve it. I have been a very wicked woman." "It was not altogether your fault, Cleo," he said, vaguely trying to comfort, but she contra- dicted him almost fiercely. "It was — it was, indeed, all my fault." She caught her breath sharply. "However, that was not what I wanted to speak about. It was this. I wanted to tell you that — that — after all, I do not love you. That I — I loved ^m — Orito!" She half- breathed the last word. Sinclair sat back in his chair, and looked at her with slow, studying eyes. She repeated wearily: "Yes; I loved him — but I — did not — know — it till it was too late!'' For a long time after that the two sat in com- plete silence. Sinclair could not find words to speak to her, and the girl had exhausted her heart in that heart-breaking and now tragic confession. Then the man broke the silence with a sharp, almost impatient, ejaculation, which escaped him unconsciously. "The pity of it all! — Good God!" "Arthur, I want to see — to speak to Num^ before I go away. You will let me; will you not?" He hesitated only a moment, and then: "Yes, dear, anything you want." And when he was leaving her, _he said to him, abruptly, with a sharp questioning note in her voice that wanted to be denied: THE PITY OF IT ALL. 2M •'I am a very wicked woman!" "No— no; anything but that," he said, and stoop- ing kissed her thin, frail hand. Something choked him at the heart and blinded his eyes as he left her, and all the way back to his office, in the jinrikisha, he kept thinking of the girl's white, suffering face, and memories of the gay, happy, careless Cleo he had known in America mingled with it in his thoughts in a frightful medley. Something like remorse crept into his own heart; for was he entirely blameless? But he forgot everything painful when he arrived home, for there was a perfume-scented little note written on thin rice-paper, waiting for him, and Nume was expecting him that day. When one has present happiness, it is not hard to forget the sorrows of others. ifi , I l': t 314 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. CHAPTER LVIII. MRS. DAVIS'S NERVES. The next day Sinclair brought Cleo to call on Numb. It was the first time the two girls had ever really talked with each other. At first Numb declared she would not see the American girl, whom she held responsible for her father's, Sachi's and Orito's deaths, but after Sinclair had talked to her for a while and nad told her how the other girl was suffering, and how she, after all, really loved Orito, the girl's tender little heart was touched, and she was as anxious to see Cleo as Cleo was to see her. She went herself down the little garden path to meet Cleo, and held her two little hands out with a great show of cordiality and almost affection. "Tha'sj^ perlite thad you cummin' to see me," she said. Cleo smiled, the first time in days, perhaps. It pleased Numb. "Ah!" she said, "how nize thad is — jus' lig' sunbeam in dark room!" She was very anxious to please the American girl and make her feel at her ease, and she chatted on happily to her. She wanted Cleo to understand that in spite of her father's death she was not altogether unhappy, for she had talked the matter over very solemnly with Koto and MRS. DAVISS NERVES. 215 Matsu only the previous night, and they had all agreed that Cleo's desire to see her (Num^) was prompted by remorse, which remorse Numh wished to lessen, to please Sinclair. Sinclair left them alone together, and strolled over to Mrs. Davis's house. She had been kept in ignorance of this proposed visit. Sinclair found her busily engaged in packing, preparatory to leaving. Mrs. Davis was in despair over some American furniture that she did not want to take with her. "Can't you leave it behind?" "No; the new landlord won't let me. 3ays the Japanese have no use for American furniture — unpleasant in the houses during earthquakes, etc. ' ' "Well, I'll take care of them for you," Sin- clair volunteered, good-naturedly. "Oh, will you? Now, that will be good of you. That settles that, then. And now about this stuff— come on, Tom," she began crushing things into boxes and trunks, in her quick, delightful fashion, scarce noting where she was placing them. She paused a moment to ask Sinclair if he had been over to Num^'s. "Yes," he smiled a trifle. "Cleo is there now." She dropped a piece of bric-a-brac and sat down on the floor. "Cleo! there— with Numi! Well!" "Yes, she wanted to know Numfe, she said, before going ^.way," Sinclair told her. "She will never cease surprising me," Mrs. Davis said, plaintively. "She ought not to excite ! i ii6 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. herself. I never know what to expect of her, which way to take her. I used to think my nerves were strong; now — my nerves are — are nervous." "Cleo is not herself lately," Tom said, quietly, without looking up. "We'd better humor her for a little while still. Besides — Numfe will do her good, I believe." ;H Iiich ^ere tiy, for her CLEO AND NUME. ai; CHAPTER LIX. CLEO AND NUMk. As soon as Sinclair left them the Japanese girl went close up to the American girl. "Sa-ay— I goin' tell you something," she said, confidingly. "Yes, dear." "You mos' beautifoolest womans barbarian — No! no! nod thad. Egscuse me. I nod perlite to mag' mistakes sometimes. I mean I thing' you mos' beautifoolest ladies I aever seen, ' ' she said. Again Cleo smiled. Numb wished she would say something. "You lig' me?" she prompted, encouragingly. "Yes " "Foraever an' aever?" "Well — yes — I guess so." "How nize!" she clapped her hands and Koto came through the parted shoji. '''Now I interducing you to my mos' vaery nize f riens, Mees Tominago Koto. ' ' Koto was as anxious as Nume to please, and as she had seen Numb hold her two hands out in greeting, she did the same, very sweetly. About an hour later Mrs. Davis, with Tom and Sinclair, looked in at the three girls. Cleo was sit- ting on the mats with Koto and Numb, and they were all laughing. ri8 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. » = ;i "Well, we've come for the invalid," said Tom, cheerily. "She has been out long enough." "I have enjoyed my vis'*- " she told them, simply. "And Nume," she turned to her, "Numb, will you kiss me?" "Ess;" she paused a moment, bashfully, throwing a charming glance at Sinclair. "I kin kees — Mr. Sinka tich me. * ' They all laughed at this. "An* now," she continued, "I inviting you to visit with me agin. ' ' She included them all with a bewitching little sweep of her hands, but her eyes were on the American girl's face. "An' also I lig' you to know thad Mr. Sinka promising to me thad he goin' tek me thad grade big United States. Now, thad wilL be nize. I egspeg you lig' me visite with you also. Yaes?" "Of course; yQi\x would stay with us," Tom said, cordially. "Thad is perlite," she breathed, ecstatically. "Not polite. Numb," Sinclair corrected, smil- ing, "but, well — 'nize,* as you would call it." "Ah, yaes, of course. I beg pardons, egscuse. I mean thad liddle word 'nize.* Tha's foolish say 'perlite.' " She laughed at what she thought her own foolishness, and she was so pretty when she laughed. Cleo turned to Sinclair. "I understand," she said, softly, "why you — you loved her. If I were a man I would too. ' ' "Ah! thad is a regret," sighed Numb, who had overheard her and half understood. ' ' Thad you iil 1 '•^■SKlotJir,*-'- CLEO AND NUME. 219 nod a mans to luf with me. Aenyhow, I thing" I liging you without thad I be a mans. Sa-ay, I lig' you jus' lig' a— a brudder— no, lig' a mudder. with you." This was very generous, as the mother love is supreme in Japan, and Num^ felt she could not go beyond that. Cleo seemed very much absorbed on the way home. Tom was in the kurumma with her, Sin- clair having stayed behind a while. "Matsu is going back with us to America," she said. "I think she is a dear little thing, and I shall educate her." She was silent a moment, and then she said, very wistfully: "Tom, do you suppose I can ever make up— atone for all my wickedness?" and Tom answered her with all the old loving sympathy. "/ never could think of you as wicked, sis — not wantonly so— only thoughtless." "Ah, Tom— if /could only think so too!" When the boat moved down the bay Cleo's and Tom's eyes were dim, and when the wharf was only a shadowy, dark line they still leaned forward watching a small white fluttering handkerchief, and in imagination they still saw the little doleful figure trying to smile up at them through a mist of tears. And a week later the selfsame missionary who had given Sinclair so much work, and thereby helped him bear his trouble, married them—Sin- clair and Num^. The girl was gowned all in white— the dress she had worn that first time Sin- clair had met her. About two years later a party of American tour- i I : t.20 MISS NUME OF JAPAN. ists called on Sinclair. Among them were a few old acquaintances. They brought strange news. Cleo and Tom Ballard had been married for a month past! Perhaps the most frequent visitors at the Sin- clairs' are Mr. and Mrs. Shiku. 1^ < 1 THE ENB. I '.■ ere a trange ed for I Sin-