 | Chapter XV Miss Spring Morning |  |
15. Chapter XV
The little town of Zuiganjii was as quite and peaceful as the big cities were turbulent and agitated, for day and night, in the cities, the people were threading the streets now in procession, waving flags and banners, raising triumphant voices in delirious shouts of victory upon victory. And even here, somewhat of the excitement had perhaps reached, for, though there were no parades or marching soldiers, bronzed veterans returning from the scenes of triumph, every little house had upon its roof the sun flag of Japan.
Even in the early days of their acquaintance, Jamison had noted the effect of these various symbols of the war upon Spring-morning. She would tremble and pale at the mere beating of a drum, and no matter what her task, the sound of a passing procession or regiment would send the girl flying across the room to lean from the casement in palpitating excitement, deaf to
So he had wisely refrained in their travels from any long sojourns in the cities, and now in this little quiet town it seemed to him that they had found that pearl beyond price—perfect peace and happiness. It seemed to the fond eyes of her husband that Spring-morning was like some lately lovely but wilted flower, which opened out refreshed, and showed a new and surprising beauty and grace. His constant, watchful care of the girl, the restful atmosphere of the country, their love, all contributed to her serenity of mind, and soon it seemed as if not a trace of the old wistfulness and tremulous apprehension, and even fear, which were so noticeable once about her, was left. A girl of sighs and dreams, he had transformed her, he told himself proudly, into a radiant creature of smiles and joyous, bubbling laughter.
One day, in the heart of the woods, they came upon a regiment of soldiers engaged in skirmish practice. So astonished was the American at the discovery of Japan's out- of-the-way spots for drilling its men, that he did not at once notice the curious change which had come over his wife. Her face had turned as white as snow; her lips were pinched in a thin, suffering line together. The eyes she raised to his had a fever of excitement burning within them.
“Oh-h!” she cried, her hands crushed upon her breast, “the soldiers of Tenshi-sama naever sleep! Always they—work for Japan! Always they—they remember!”
“Remember what, Spring-morning?” asked her husband, gently, marveling at her excitement.
She struck her breast with a passionate savagery.
“I—miserable me—I—forgitting! I am mos' unworthy worm in all Japan! Think, while those soldiers of my Emperor bleed and die for those country—me—I am seek those joy! May Shaka torment me! May Futen harass my days.”
Her passionate words of self-reproach startled him.
“How can you talk in that foolish fashion?”
She raised her face, and as she met her husband's reproachful gaze, her expression changed, the frozen look of despair slowly melting away from it. Suddenly she began to sob, hiding her face against his breast.
“Beloved—I—I p-pray—you mek me forgiveness. Alas, I am think of my Emperor! All Japanese think of him. All Japanese must suffer for him, now, when he need them. But me? I have done nothing. Alas, I have dare be happy—wiz you. It is nod ride when those war is fight! Even those wife of grade princes now wear the cotton dress and work jus' same poor womens, account they too lig to mek sacrifice jus' same their husbands do!”
He stroked the little shining, black head soothingly, murmuring against it comforting and endearing words.
“Well, and you can do something, too, darling,” he told her. “When we get back to Yokohama we'll make a contribution- -a big one—”
She raised her head, and holding him back with both her hands on his breast, she searched his face with a look of startled eagerness.
“You want help Japan also, Eijin-san?”
Why, yes. Why shouldn't I, with my little wife Japanese. I have plenty of money—”
“Oh—money! Thas whad you—do!”
“What else could I do?” he inquired jocularly.
“Thas true,” she said mournfully. “You—you jos' a foreign mister—liddle while ad Japan. Tangs!”
“Well, I like that!” he laughed. “Is that all the thanks I'm to have then?”
She stared for a moment sadly at the rueful young face of her husband, and then her eyes became enlarged, and as she spoke her voice throbbed with some inner fervor that moved her.
“Sup—pose you Japanese hosban! Oh! Glorious then you do! Yaes. You so big—so grade and so brave. You mek one big soldier for Mikado. Kill mebbe one hundled Lussian soldier. How then your wife adore you, jus'
Jamison's rueful amazement turned to mirth.
“Why, you preposterous little witch, you wouldn't want your husband to be a soldier, would you?”
She gave him a look full of curious pathos.
“Ah,” she said very wistfully, “how grade honor thad would be!”
“What an emotional little creature it is!” he chided. “Now I want you to forget all about this war-business. That's why I brought you here, away from the noisy city, and I warn you, if you don't, I'm going to hurry you back to Yokohama, and then pack you bag and baggage off to another country, where the wives don't want their husbands killed off in that way. So you'd better stop right there cherishing any gruesome thoughts in regard to your husband's sacrificing himself for your old Emperor. Here, give me a great big kiss, and smile again—this very instant—just look how you've clouded up the whole sky above us!”
She did kiss him, but her thoughts were far away, and her smile was shadowy. Presently she disengaged herself from his arms and resumed the subject.
“Listen, Eijin-san!” (She still called him this.) “Me? I am mos' insignificant little Japanese girl mebbe. Poor me, I kinnod do moach for those Japan. Thas nod for girl do. But I lig tek lots those moaneys you say you go give for Japan war. I lig give those unto Japanese soldier, account I got live ad your house. I kinnod go ad house of Japanese soldier. I kinnod live ad those house.”
She was confusing herself, even as she bewildered him.
“Live where? What are you talking about? How could you live in the house of a Japanese soldier?”
“Thas whad I say,” she declared, provoked. “I say—I nod lig live ad house of Japanese soldier, account I prefer stay ad house of Eijin-san. So-o—”
She saw by his face that he was still puzzled, and, fearful of her own words, she added hurriedly:
“Bud sup-pose I got marry also wiz Japanese soldier? I got also live ad hees house. Yaes?”
“But you didn't,” said her husband crossly, for him. “You married me, and I don't want you wasting a thought on such foolish suppositions. Now, if you don't instantly become my darling little happy sweetheart again, you know what I told you I'd do. It'll be Yokohama for sure, and then- -America!”
“America!” she repeated, her eyes very wide as she stared out before her. “Ah, I lig very much go unto those America.”
“Good!” he cried with enthusiasm. “Then that's the place we'll trot to next.”
| Chapter XV Miss Spring Morning | |