University of Virginia Library

23. Chapter XXIII

In a tense silence, in the ozashiki the two men awaited the advent of Spring-morning. It seemed an interminable interval before she suddenly appeared at the foot of the steps. She had come down the stairs swiftly and noiselessly, and her sudden appearance was startling, even to the impassive Omi.

In Jamison's short absence, she had made certain changes in her toilet. A fresh gray kimono had replaced the one she had worn in her room. Her hair had been smoothed, its towers readjusted firmly, and right at the side of her head, she had pinned some bright decoration of red and gold, which Jamison had never seen before, and which glittered startlingly against the dead black of her hair.

She stood for a moment at the foot of the stairs, looking straight at Omi, who had taken a step toward her. As if to meet him, she slowly advanced, bowing very deeply at every step; but when her head touched the mat she did not lift it. Omi's calm voice had a note of authority in it—as he looked, steadily, coldly, at Spring-morning.

“It is permitted,” he said, “for the humble one to arise.”

Slowly Spring-morning came to her feet, and now, her eyes traveling up Omi's face, became enlarged, and remained fixedly regarding him. After a moment:

“Omi-sama,” she said, in a soft, weak voice, like one speaking almost in a dream, “is it indeed you—at last!” “It is I,” he replied somberly.

“There is a mark upon your face,” she said tremulously. “Gloriously you have suffered for Tenshi-sama.”

“It is nothing,” said the soldier coldly; but he held up the empty sleeve of his kimono, and she turned pale as one dead as she saw the extent of his injuries. She went yet nearer to him, one little hand creeping out, as if, pityingly, to touch that eloquent sleeve of Omi's, which told better than any words could have done the terrible time he had passed through, and into the girl's eyes there crept a vague expression that was half pain and half exultation.

“The heroes of Tenshi-sama,” said she, “carry always the mark of the gods upon them. Oh radiantly may your heart beat forever, Omi-sama!”

Her words, the shining fervor of her face, and the pitying expression in her eyes, moved the young man from his stolid impassiveness. For the first time his voice showed emotion.

“Spring-morning,” said he, “you wear still the honorable marumage” (marriage ornament) “in your hair. Do not forget that it was I—who placed it there!”

His words recalled her. She became tensely aware of that other silent, terrible figure in the room with them, and at whom now she felt that never again might she dare to look. She was thinking already of Jamison Tyrrell as one beloved—dead. With him she had passed the happiest days of her life; but now she was hearing the stern voices of the gods in her ears, and peremptorily they were demanding of the Japanese girl that she do her duty.

Here was her husband before her—Omi, whose young body had been torn and wracked in the service of his country and Emperor. She did not love him; she loved that other one—the Eijin-san—but it was her duty humbly to follow and serve her lord.

Dimly only she heard the words of Omi, and knew that Jamison had come closely behind her, and was waiting— hanging in agony—upon her decision, but uttering no word to coerce or hold her. It was not in him to hold her against her will.

“Come then,” was saying Omi, with that proud note of authority ringing out clearly now. “Prepare then to follow your honorable husband at once.”

She continued to stare steadily into his face, but she did not move. Omi walked slowly toward the doors, turning back slightly, as if awaiting her, and presently she took a step toward him, then moved along, mechanically, falteringly, putting out her hand blindly as if to find the way. Omi now awaited her by the doors, and as she came slowly, painfully to him, he opened them. In the hall, standing waiting by the doors, where she had sought in vain for courage to enter, was Miss Latimer. Spring-morning suddenly screamed frantically, and she plunged forward into the arms of her friend.