 | Karo |  |
I.
When Karo, son of Watanabe Iwai, was but ten years of age, and Yedo, daughter of Okazi Omi, a tiny girl of five, their fathers betrothed 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. Okazi Omi and Watanabe Iwai were very wealthy men, and the latter was ambitious that his son should have an unusually good education, so when Karo was seventeen years old, he had left the public school of Kyoto and was attending the best school of Kyushu, where he was recognized as the cleverest student in his class. About this time, and when Karo was at home on his vacation, there came to Kyoto certain foreigners, who rented land of Watanabe Iwai, and became neighbors to him and Omi.
Watanabe Iwai had always taken a great deal of interest in these foreigners, many of whom he had met quite often while on business in Yokohama, so that he was very much pleased with his new tenants, who, in spite of their barbarous manners and dress, seemed good natured and friendly. Often in the evening he and Omi would walk through the valley to their neighbors' house, and listen attentively while they told of their home in a land called America, which they said was the greatest country in the world, although it was hard for them to understand how any place could be better than Japan. But after a time the strange men went away, though neither Iwai nor Omi forgot them, and very often they talked of them and of their foreign home. One day Iwai said 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, Karo, out to this America, so that he may see much of the world, and also become a great scholar, when he shall return and crave thy noble daughter in marriage." Okazi Omi was fairly delighted with this proposal, and the two friends talked and planned and then sent for the lad.
Karo 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. But it was not merely a beautiful face; there was something else in it, a certain impassiveness that rendered it almost startling in its wonderful inscrutableness. It was not expressionless, but unreadable—the face of one of the noble blood of the samurai—pale, refined, and emotionless.
He bowed low and courteously when he entered, and said a few words of gentle greeting to Omi, in a clear, mellow voice that was very pleasing. Iwai's eyes sparkled with pride as he looked on his son. Unlike Karo, he was a very impulsive man, and without preparing the boy he hastened to tell him at once of their plans for his future. While his father was speaking, Karo's face did not alter from its calm, grave expression, although he was unusually moved. He only said: "What of Yedo, my father?"
Iwai and Omi beamed on him.
"When you return from this America, then shall Yedo be given to you as a bride," said Okazi Omi.
"And when will that be?" asked Karo in a low voice.
"In five years, my son, and you shall have all manner of learning there which cannot be acquired here in Kyoto or in Kyushu, and the manner of thy learning shall be different from that taught anywhere in Japan. Thou shalt have a foreign education, as well as what thou hast learned here in thy home. Thou must prepare at once, my son. I desire it."
Karo bowed gracefully and thanked his father, declaring it was the chief desire of his life to obey the will of his parents in all things.
Okazi Yedo 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, happy fashion, worshiped by her father's servants, but depending entirely upon Karo for all her small joys. Karo 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. He would reprove her when naughty, and endeavor to restrain her hasty temper, almost as her mother would have done.
That afternoon, Yedo waited long for Karo to come, but the boy had gone out across the valley, and was wandering aimlessly among the hills trying to make up his mind to go to Yedo and tell her that in less than a week he must leave her for five long years. The next day a great storm broke over Kyoto, so that Yedo was unable to stir out or go to school, and she thought Karo would come, as he always did, but he came not, and she complained bitterly to her father. Then Okazi Omi, forgetting all else save the great future in store for his prospective son-in-law, told her all. And Yedo listened, not as Karo had done, when they told him, with a quiet, calm face; hers was stormy and fearful, and she sprang to her father's side and caught his hands sharply in her little ones, crying out passionately: "No, no, my father, do not send Karo away."
Omi was shocked at this display of unmaidenly conduct and arose in a dignified fashion, ordering his daughter to leave him, and Yedo crept out, too stunned to say more. About an hour after that,
Karo 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 cry, Yedo," he said, "you should rather smile, for see, I will come back a great scholar, and will tell you of all I have learned and seen of the people I have met." But at that, Yedo pushed him from her and declared she wanted not to hear of those barbarians, and flashed her eyes wrathfully at him, whereat Karo hastened to assure her that not one of them could possibly be half so beautiful or sweet as his Yedo. She finally promised to be very brave, and the day Karo left she only wept when no one could see her.
And so Karo sailed for America and entered a great college called Harvard. And little Yedo stayed in Japan, and because there was no Karo 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 Karo around like his very shadow. But Yedo never forgot Karo for one little moment, and each night, when every one else in the house was sound asleep, she would lie awake thinking of him.
One day, a letter came, addressed to "Okazi Yedo, daughter of Okazi Omi." Yedo read this letter, first to her father then to herself, and she carried it with her wherever she went and read it over and over again until she knew it all by heart. Oh, how she would welcome his picture which he promised to send. It would almost be like having Karo back again. But although he wrote her many long, loving letters, three years slipped by before the portrait arrived. Now, the strangest thing about this picture was that it did not look a bit like Karo. The chief expression on the face was one of happiness; there was almost mischief lurking in the eyes, whereas Karo's face was grave and cold. The more Yedo looked at it, the less like Karo did it seem, but she finally decided that it was because of the foreign clothes. "He must have changed wonderfully," she thought; "but oh, how beautiful he is." And then she added, rather pathetically, "He has even grown to look like a barbarian"; but she carried the picture around with her everywhere, and she looked at it a hundred times a day. The more she looked at it, the more she liked it. Yes, she even loved the new Karo better than the old. She was now fifteen years of age, when girls are romantic and fall easily in love. Perhaps she never was actually in love with Karo until she received the picture, and then she lost her whole heart.
Karo's first impression of America had changed a great deal, and although he admired much that he saw there, he could not be won from his allegiance and staunch admiration of his own native land. He was a great favorite at college, where he had made a number of friends. He had made great strides in his studies and was considered very clever. The students all liked him. He was gentle and unassuming. Sometimes he would speak of his beautiful home to his college friends, although Yedo's sacred name was never mentioned save to one, a young man named Howard Clifton, with whom he was on the most intimate terms. They roomed and studied together. He told him of Yedo, of how dear she was to him, and of their betrothal. And Howard told him of his engagement to a beautiful American heiress, and between the two young men a strong friendship sprang up.
| Karo | |