Miss Numè of Japan; a Japanese-American romance

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MISS NUM£ OF JAPAN.

. OF

MISS NUME

OF JAPAN
A Japanese - American Romance

ONOTO WATANNA

AUTHOR OF " NATSU-SAN," " YURI-SAN AND OKIKU-SAN,
"A HALF CASTE," ETC.

CHICAGO AND NEW YORK:
RAND, MCNALLY & COMPANY,

PUBLISHERS.

Copyright, 1899, by Rand, McNally & Co.

THIS BOOK

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO MY FRIEND,

HELEN M. BOWEN

BECAUSE I LOVE HER SO

2139058

INTRODUCTION.

The fate of an introduction to a book seems not only to
fall short of its purpose, but to offend those whose habit it
is to criticise before they read. Once I heard an old man say,
"It is dangerous to write for the wise. They strike warm
hands with form, but shrug a cold shoulder at originality."
I do not think, though, that this book was written for the
" wise," for the men and women whose frosty judgment would
freeze the warm current of a free and almost careless soul.
It was written for the imaginative, and they alone are the
true lovers of story and song. Onoto Watanna plays upon
an instrument new to our ears, quaintly Japanese, an air at
times simple and sweet, as tender as the chirrup of a bird
in love, and then as wild as the scream of a hawk. Mood
has been her teacher; impulse has dictated her style. She
has inherited the spirit of the orchard in bloom. Her art is
the grace of the wild vine, under no obligation to a gardener,
but with a charm that the gardener could not impart. A
monogram wrought by nature's accident upon the golden leaf
of autumn, does not belong to the world of letters, but it
inspires more feeling and more poetry than a library squeezed
out of man's tired brain. And this book is not unlike an
autumn leaf blown from a forest in Japan.

OPIE READ.
CHICAGO, January, 1899.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER. PAGE.

I — Parental Ambitions, 5

II — Cleo, 10

III — Who Can Analyze a Coquette ? 15

IV — The Dance on Deck, 20

V — Her Gentle Enemy, 24

VI — A Veiled Hint, 27

VII — Jealousy Without Love, 30

VIII — The Man She Did Love, 37

IX — Merely a Woman, 43

X — Watching the Night, 47

XI — At the Journey's End 52

XII — Those Queer Japanese ! 54

XIII — Takashima's Home-Coming, 59

XIV — After Eight Years 60

XV— Nume, 64

XVI — An American Classic, 68

XVII — "Still a Child," 73

XVIII — The Meeting, 76

XIX — Confidences, 79

XX — Sinclair's Indifference 83

XXI — "Me? ILig'You," 86

XXII — Advice, 92

, XXIII — Afraid to Answer, 95

XXIV — Visiting the Tea Houses 99

XXV— Shattered Hopes, 104

XXVI — Conscience, 108

XXVII — Confession, no

XXVIII — Japanese Pride, 115

XXIX — Seclusion 117

XXX — Feminine Diplomacy, 121

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER. PAGE.

XXXI — A Barbarian Dinner, 124

XXXII — The Philosophy of Love, 126

XXXIII — What Can that "Luf" Be? 130

XXXIV — 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 — A Story 160

XLIII — The Truth of the Proverb, 163

XLIV — Nume Breaks Down 167

XLV — Trying to Forget, 171

XLVI — An Observant Husband, 173

XL VII — Matsushima Bay, 176

XL VIII — A Rejected Lover, iSo

XLIX — The Answer, 184

L — The Ball, 187

LI — The Fearful News, 190

LII — The Tragedy, 192

LIII — A Little Heroine 194

LIV — 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 Nume, 217

ILLUSTRATIONS.

TITLE. PAGE.

ONOTO WAT ANNA, Frontispiece

NUME-SAN, 29

KOTO, KlRISHIMA, AND MATSU, IOI

PLAYING KARUTTA . . . 117

" NUME BREAKS DOWN," 165

KOTO WOULD NOT MARRY, 181

SITTING TOGETHER HAND IN HAND 197

NUME AND HER Two FRIENDS KOTO AND MATSU, . . . 205

Miss Nume of Japan.

CHAPTER I.
PARENTAL AMBITIONS.

When Orito, son of Takashima Sachi, was but ten
years of age, and Nume, 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

2 5

6 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

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 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 Kazoku and
Samourai — pale, refined, and emotionless.

He bowed low and courteously when he entered,

PARENTAL AMBITIONS. 7

and said a few words of gentle 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 Orito, 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 Orito's face did not alter from
its calm, grave attention, although he was unusually
moved. He only said, "What of Nume, my
father?"

Sachi and Omi beamed on him.

"When you return from this America I will give
you Nume as a bride," said Omi.

"And when will that be?" asked Orito, in alow
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 things.

Now Nume 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,

8 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 Nume 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 Nume 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 Nume 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
Nume 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 Nume 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. 9

' ' 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 Nume 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 wrathfully at him,
whereat Orito assured her that none of them would
be half as beautiful or sweet as his little Nume — his
plum blossom; for the word Nume means plum
blossom in Japanese. Finally Nume 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.

io 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

CLEO. 1 1

Mr. — a — a — Takashima. What a name! Go, like
the dear good boy you are, 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 4Takie,'
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."

4 ' 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.

4 ' 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

14 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

16 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

WHO CAN ANALYZE A COQUETTE ? 17

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.

1 8 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

"Do you dance?" she asked, curiously.

"No! I like better to watch with you."

"Put 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? 19

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."

20 MISS NUME OF 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

THE DANCE ON DECK. 21

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

22 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

THE DANCE ON DECK. 23

to monopolize him entirely, so long as she would be
with him.

When Miss Morton, who soon perceived that she
was not wanted, made a slight apology for leaving
them, Cleo turned and said, very sweetly: "Please
don't mention it."

24 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER V.
HER 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 breeding, 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 way 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.

invalids. 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. "Who 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, perhaps.

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. ' '

28 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

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 enigmatical.

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."

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 tc
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

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 yon
forgive 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.

4 ' 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."

4 '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."

4 '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.

where we have sojourned fora 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 him 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 you," he continued.

JEALOUSY WITHOUT LOVE. 33

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 Nume," 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 herself. ' '

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 was

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."

Gleo could not have told why she felt the sudden
overwhelming rebellion against his allegiance to
Nume, 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 one.
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
Nume.

' ' 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

4

38 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

the first night they had met. But with the man it
was different; and perhaps it was because of the
fact that he at first had been almost indifferent to
her, that the girl who 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 timfc 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 yon 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

THE 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 urging 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

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, -r-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
had done, with a passion of a moment that swept
her from her feet, but with deference and respect,
and yet with as strong a love as she could have
desired.

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.

She paused in her toilet, and sat down a moment
to think.

"I can't analyze my own feelings," she said, half-
fretfully. "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

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."

'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.

44 What's up, Cleo?"

"Nothing, Tom."

"Don't fib, now. You 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?"

48 MISS NUME OP JAPAN.

"No, Tom," the girl answered, looking at him
gratefully. Instinctively she felt the ready sym-
pathy he always extended to her, often without
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 had stood
to the mother and Cleo as father, brother, and son
in one, and they both became very dependent 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 raised 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
nionopolized 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.

50 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

"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 had shown 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 me?" 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

"WATCHING THE NIGHT." 51

delightful," she added; "don't let us break it just
now. "

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
in 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
nothing to do with it."

"Will you not tell me what to expect, then?"
The sadness of his voice touched the girl's heart,
bringing 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
right, 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."

52 MISS NUME OP 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 almost a
praj'er 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-r-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.

CHAPTER XII.
THOSE QUEER JAPANESE!

Kyoto is by far the most picturesque city in
Japan. It is situated between two mountains, with
a beautiful river flowing through it. It is con-
nected with Tokyo by rail, but the traveling accom-
modations are far from being as comfortable or
commodious as in America; in fact, there are no
sleeping-cars whatever, so that it is often matter of
complaint among visitors that they are not as com-
fortable traveling by rail as they might be. It was
in Kyoto that Sinclair and, most of the Americans
who visited Japan lived. Sinclair kept one office in
Kyoto and another in Tokyo, and being inclined to
shove most of his light duties on to his secretary,
went back and forth between the two cities ; in fact,
he had a house in both places. Tokyo, with its
immense population and its air of business and
activity, is yet not so favored by foreigners, nor by
the better class Japanese, as a place of residence as
is Kyoto. Indeed, a great many of them carry on
a business in Tokyo and also keep a house in
Kyoto. Most of the merchants of Tokyo, however,
prefer to live in one of the charming little villages
a few hours' ride by train from Tokyo, on the shores
of the Hayama, where there is a good view of Fuji-
Yama, the peerless mountain. And it was almost

THOSE QUEER JAPANESE! 55

under the shadow of this mountain that Takashima
Orito and Nume had played together as children.

The Ballards took up their residence for the time
being in the city of Tokyo, at an American hotel,
where most of the other passengers who had arrived
with them were staying. Arthur Sinclair had
failed to meet them at the boat, though he sent in
his place his Japanese secretary, who looked after
their luggage for them, hailed jinrikishas, and saw
them comfortably settled at the hotel, apologizing
profusely for the non-appearance of Sinclair, and
explaining that he had gone up to Kyoto the
previous day, and had been delayed on important
business.

When they were alone in their rooms the mother
sank in a chair, complaining bitterly that Sinclair
had failed to meet them. '

"I will never get used to this — this strange
place," she said, with her chronic dissatisfaction.
"I won't be able to stay a week here. How could
Arthur Sinclair have acted so outrageously? I shall
tell him just how I feel about it. "

"Mother," Cleo turned on her almost fiercely,
"you will say nothing to him. If he had something
more important to attend to — if he did not want to
come — we do not want him to put himself out for
us — we do not care if he does not.." Her voice
reflected her mother's bitterness, however, and
belied her words.

"He was always thoughtful," said Tom, laying
his hand consolingly on his aunt's shoulder. "Come
now, Aunt Beth, everything looks comfortable here

56 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

— and I'm sure after we once get over the oddity of
our surroundings we will find it quite interesting."

"It is interesting, Tom," said Cleo, from a win-
dow, "the streets are so funny outside. They are
narrow as anything, and there are signboards every-
where. "

Mrs. Ballard looked helplessly about the room.

"Tom, what do you suppose they will give us to
eat? I have heard such funny tales about their
queer cooking — chicken cooked in molasses, and —
and raw fish — and "

"Mother," put in the girl, impatiently, "this
hotel is on the American plan. The little bell-boys
and servants, of course, are Japanese — but every-
thing will be as much like what we have at home as
they can make it. ' '

Both the mother and daughter were out of
patience with everything and were tired, the mother
being almost hysterical. Tom went over to her and
tried to calm her down, talking in his easy, consoling
way on every subject that would take her mind off
Sinclair. After a time Mrs. Ballard's nervousness
had quieted down, and she rested, her maid sitting
beside her fanning her gently, while Tom and Cleo
unpacked what luggage they had had in their state-
rooms with them, their other trunks not having
arrived. The girl was feeling more cheerful.

"When I go back to America," she said, "I
believe I'll take a little Japanese maid with me.
They are so neat and amusing."

Tom looked at her gravely. ' ' I thought you con-
templated making your home here?" he quizzed.

THOSE QUEER JAPANESE! 57

"Perhaps I will," the girl said, saucily, "perhaps
I won't. It depends on whether my mind changes
itself."

"Hum!"

"Remember Jenny Davis, Tom?"

"Well, I guess so; — never saw you alone when
she was in Washington. ' '

"Well, she brought home with her the sweetest
little Japanese maid you ever saw. She used to be
— a — a geesa girl in Tokyo, and the people she
worked for were horrid to her. So Jenny paid them
some money and they let her bring — a — Fuka with
her to America. Well, I wish you could have seen
her. She wasn't bigger than that, Tom," measur-
ing with her hand, "and she was just as cute as
an)*thing, — walks on her heels, and smiles at you
even when you are offended with her, Jenny says."

"Where is Mrs. Davis now?" Tom asked.
"Thought I heard some one say she had come back
here."

"So she did. She is somewhere in Japan now.
Last time I heard from her she was in Kyoto. I
wrote her, care of Arthur though, because she
moves around so much, and I told her we 'were
coming. I half expected she would meet us."
After thinking a moment she added, "Tom, do you
know, there was not a single American to meet us?
I think mamma is right (though I won't tell her so),
and that Arthur acted abominably in not meeting
us. It doesn't matter what business he had — he
should have left it. He might at least have sent — a
— a friend to meet us, instead of that smooth

58 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

Japanese. Mrs. Davis says there is a perfect Amer-
ican colony here, and in Yokohama and Kyoto — they
are scattered everywhere, and Arthur knows them
all, and most of them know we are to be married."

"Sinclair's hands, I guess, are pretty full most of
the time. Every American nearly that comes here
pounces onto him. He wrote me once that he had a
different party to dinner nearly every day at the
Consulate — when he is in Kyoto, and I guess that is
why the poor chap likes to run down here where
every tourist does not throw himself at him. Sin-
clair never was a good — a — business man. Don't
believe he has any idea of the responsibility of his
work. Believe he'd just as lief throw it up, any-
how."

But, though Tom stood up for his friend, even
he could not help feeling in himself that the girl
was justly indignant.

TAKASHIMA'S HOME-COMING. 59

CHAPTER XIII.
TAKASHIMA'S HOME-COMING.

Takashima had left the Americans at the dock.
He had offered the Ballards every courtesy, even
inviting them to go with him to his home. This,
however, they refused, and as it had been so long
since he had been in Japan he was almost as much a
stranger to his surroundings as they were ; so he left
them to the care of Sinclair's secretary, feeling con-
fident that he would show them every attention, —
telling them that he would call on them the next
day. He realized that they felt a trifle strange, and
wanted, in his generous, gentle way, to make them
feel at home in Japan. Two old Japanese gentle-
men who stood on the dock, peering eagerly among
the passengers as they passed down the gangway,
now paused before him. Both were visibly affected,
and the one who called his name so gently and
proudly trembled while he did so.

' ' Orito, my son. ' '

"My father," the young man" answered, speaking,
impulsively, in pure Japanese. With one old man
holding each of his arms he moved away. Cleo
looked after them, her beautiful eyes full of tears.

"It is his father," she had said. "They have not
seen each other for eight years." Her voice fal-
tered a trifle. "The other one must be her
father."

60 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER XIV.
AFTER EIGHT YEARS.

It was with mingled feelings of pleasure and, per-
haps, pain that Takashima Orito saw his home once
more. The place had scarcely changed since he had
left it eight years before. It seemed to him but a
day since he and Num£ had played on the shores of
the Hayama, and had gathered the pebbles and
shells on the beach. He remembered how Num£
would follow him round wherever he went, how
implicitly she believed in him. Surely, if he lived
to be a hundred years old never would such confi-
dence be placed in him again — the sweet, unques-
tioning confidence of a little child. After dinner
Orito left his father and Omi to go outside the house
and once more take a look at the old familiar scenes
of his boyhood; once more to see Fuji-Yama, the
wonderful mountain that he had known from his
boyhood, and of which he had never tired. There
it stood in its matchless lonely peace and splendor,
its lofty peaks meeting the rosy beams of the vivid
sky, snow-clad and majestic. Ah! the same weird
influence, the same inexplicable feeling it had
always produced in him had come back now, and
filled his soul with an ardent, yearning adoration.
Every nerve in the young man bespoke a passionate
artistic temperament. Many a time when in Amer-

AFTER EIGHT YEARS. 61

ica, wearied with studying a strange people, strange
customs, and a strange God, his niind had reverted
to Fuji-Yama — Fuji-Yama, the mount of peace, and
in his heart would rise an uncontrollable longing to
see it once more, for it is said that no one who is
born within sight of Fuji-Yama ever forgets it.
Though he might roam all the world over, his foot-
steps inevitably turn back to this spot. Standing
majestically in the central part of the main island,
snow-clad and solitary, surrounded by five lakes, it
rises to the sublime altitude of 12,490 feet. It is
said that its influence is almost weird — that those
who gaze on it once must always remember it.
They are struck not so much by its grandeur as by
its wonderful simplicity and symmetry. It is sug-
gestive of all the gentler qualities ; it is symbolic of
love, peace, and restfulness.

Orito remained outside the house for some time,
his face turned in mute adoration to the peerless
mountain, no sound escaping his lips. When his
father joined him he said, with a sigh: "Father,
how came I ever to leave my home?"

The old man beamed on hint, and leaned against
his shoulder.

"Ah, my son, it pleases me much that you have
found no spot more beautiful than your home.
Most long have the days been without you. Tell
me somewhat of your life in America. ' '

"My father," the young man answered, "the
world outside my home is turbulent and full of a
restlessness that consumes the vitality of man and
robs him of all peace." He pointed towards the

62 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

mountain: "Here is rest, peace — Nirvana, rest
from the pulse of the wild world. ' '

The old man looked uneasy. "But, my son,
surely you do not regret your travel?"

"No, father," said Orito. "Life is too short tor
regrets. It is folly to regret anything. Here in
this land, where all is so beautiful, we sleep — per-
haps a delicious, desirable sleep ; but though there
be beauty all about us, all that the heart could
desire, the foolish heart of man still is not content.
We cannot understand this restlessness that makes
us want to leave the better things of life and go out
into the world of sorrow, to leave beauty and rest
behind us, and exchange it for a life of excitement,
of shams and unrealities."

Old Sachi looked frightened at his son's words.
He did not quite comprehend them, however. The
son seemed to perceive this, and changed the sub-
ject quickly.

"Where is Nume, my father? I have not yet seen
her. She must surely be a young lady now. "

Once more the old man's face lighted up with
pride and interest.

"I thought you would be tired after your long
voyage, and would not care so much to see any one
but your father. Therefore, when she desired to
visit her American friends her father permitted her
to do so." He smiled at his son. "You will see her
to-morrow. She is now a young maiden, and you
will not know her at first."

"No — perhaps not," the young man said, sadly.
"I can think of her only as the little wild plum bios-

AFTER EIGHT YEARS. 63

som of ten years. I shall not care for her as well
now that she is a — perhaps — polite maiden of eight-
een."

"You should rather like her better, now that she
is a beautiful maiden instead of a mere baby, for it
is the nature of man to prefer the woman to the
child."

"Yes, I understand, father, but it is so many
years since I have seen a Japanese girl, and I have
grown more used to the American woman."

A shrewd look crept into the old man's face.

"Omi and I thought of that long ago, and for that
reason we encouraged her to be with the Americans
greatly, so that she has learned to speak their
tongue, and often becomes almost as one of them. ' '

' ' But, father, I would not wish her to be an Amer-
ican lady. She could not be — you cannot make a
Japanese girl into an American girl. She would be
more charming solely as a Japanese maid."

64 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER XV.

NUME.

The American lady with whom Nume was staying
was the Mrs. Davis of whom Cleo Ballard had
spoken. She had rented one of the houses that
eight years before the foreigners had lived in.
They had at that time filled the house with Ameri-
can furniture, so that when Mrs. Davis came to look
at it, it had presented so familiar and homelike an
appearance that she had rented it at once. She had
lived there for some months now. In fact, as she
was popular and always the centre of gay parties of
foreigners, quite a small colony of Americans and
English people had settled in that vicinity, which
was within easy reach of Tokyo, and, indeed, only a
day's journey from Kyoto. They had rented
houses and land from Omi and Sachi, who cultivated
them constantly because of their son. Mrs. Davis'
husband was a large silk merchant in Tokyo, and they
had practically made their home in Japan, though
they often took trips to America and Europe.

Ever since Orito had left Japan Nume had lived a
retired, reserved life. Although but a child at the
time, she was of a peculiarly staunch and intense
nature, and for many years after Orito had been
gone, she clung to the memory of the happy days
she had spent with him, and looked forward con-

NUME. 65

stantly to his return. With the usual unquestioning
content of a Japanese girl, she. was ready to marry
whoever her father chose for her, so long as he was
not repugnant to her; and as they had already
decided on Orito, the girl took it as a matter of
course that she would some day be his wife. As
she had only pleasant memories of him, her mar-
riage was looked forward to almost with delight, and
until the day before Orito 's return there had not
been a pang of fear or regret. She had not been
thrown into the society of young men, and knew
very little of them. Orito's letters to her, although
formal in tone, always were tender and kind, and
spoke of the happy days they had spent together,
and which he said would be renewed when he was
once more in Japan.

When the Americans had settled so near her
home, the girl had gone out curiously among them,
studying their strange manners and customs, learn-
ing to speak their language, and often even dressing
in their costume, to the amusement of her father,
Sachi, and the Americans. They had sought her
out in the beginning because of her extraordinary
beauty; for, living on her father's land, they
naturally often came across her either with her
father or roaming alone with her maid in the fields.
At first the child was inclined to resent any over-
tures on their part, because of an unaccountable
jealousy she cherished toward them ever since Orito
had gone to America. But after a time her better
sense had triumphed, and soon she became a famil-
iar figure in their midst.

66 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

It is true that most of these foreigners stayed only
a short time there, and moved around constantly,
but as fast as they went others came, and the girl
soon got used to them. Although she had received
the best education possible for a girl in Japan, yet
she had traveled very little, her father taking her
once in a while on a flying trip to Kyoto and Tokyo.
But her knowledge of the outside world was gained
entirely through her acquaintance with the Ameri-
cans, and often she sighed for a larger life than the
one she had known. She would ask her father con-
stantly to permit her to go away on trips with the
Americans, but though he encouraged her always to
cultivate them, yet he never would permit her to go
away with them, even on a short trip to Yokohama.

Omi was perhaps a trifle more limited and nar-
row than Sachi, and more regarded the etiquette
of his class. Sachi had always been inclined to take
the lead in most things, and Omi was always will-
ing to be guided by him. Thus it happened that
Omi had perhaps as much love for Orito as his
father had, and even thought more of him than he
did of Nume, who was only a girl.

Orito and Nume were the only children either of
the old men had had, and, moreover, both of their
mothers had died many years ago.

When Mrs. Davis had settled there about six
months before, "she had brought letters with her
from Takashima Orito, whom she had met in
America, commending her to the hospitality of his
father and Omi. With her quick, gay manners, her
beautiful and odd dresses, her frank good-nature,

NUME. 67

she dazzled and was a puzzle always to the old men
and to Nume. Moreover, she was a wealthy
woman, and had rented the most exquisite of all the
houses owned by Sachi. She took a great liking to
Nume almost at once, and the girl returned it. She
would walk into Omi's house in the most insinuating
manner in the world, captivate the old man with her
wit and grace, and carry off Nume right under his
nose, even though he had told her of his resolve to
keep his daughter in seclusion until her marriage.
She would say to him "Well, now, you know, Mr.
Watanabe, I am different. I knew dear Mr.
Takashima so well in America, and I am sure he
would like Nume and me to be good friends, eh,
Nume?" And when she was alone with the girl and
out of sight of the old man, she would say, with a
confident shake of her head: "Just wait, my dear;
soon I'll have things so that you can come and go as
you like. ' '

She did not speak vainly. Soon she had taken the
two old men by storm, so that she could have
twisted them round her own shrewd little finger.

68 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER XVI.
AN AMERICAN CLASSIC.

The day before Orito was to arrive home Nume
had crossed the rice fields and gone to the American
lady's house.

"I have felt so nerviss," she said, with her pretty
broken English, "that I come stay with you, Mrs.
Davees. "

"What are you nervous about, dear?" Mrs. Davis
asked, kissing the girl's pretty, troubled face.

Nume slipped down from the chair Mrs. Davis had
placed for her, and sat on the floor instead, restino-
her head against the older woman's knee.

"Orito will return to-morrow," she said, simply.
"I am so joyed I am nerviss."

The American lady's sweet blue eyes were moist.

"Do you love him, sweetheart?"

The girl raised wondering eyes to her.

"Luf? Thad is so funny word — Ess — I luf," she
said.

'And you have not seen him for eight years?
And you were only ten years old when you last saw
him? My dear, I don't understand — I can't
believe it."

The girl raised a wistful face to her.

"Nume nod unerstan', too," she said.

"Of course you don't, dear. Nume, I wish your

AN AMERICAN CLASSIC. 69

father would let me take you away for a time. It is
a shame to tie you down already, before you have
had a chance to see anything or any one, hardly.
You aren't a bit like most Japanese girls. I don't
believe you realize how pretty — how very, very lovely
and dainty and sweet you are. Sometimes when I
look at your face I can't realize you are a Japanese
girl. You are so pretty."

"Bud the Japanese girl be pretty," Nume said,
with dignity; "pretty more than Americazan girl,"
she added, defiantly.

Mrs. Davis laughed. "Yes, they are — I suppose,
some of them, but then an American can't always
understand their style of beauty, dear. You are
different. Your face is lovely — it is a flower — a
bright tropical flower. No! It is too delicate for
a tropical flower — it is like your name — you are
a wild plum blossom. Sometimes I am puzzled
to know when you look best — in the sweet, soft
kimona or — or in a regular stylish American gown ;
then I couldn't tell you were anything but an
American girl ; — no, not an American girl — you are
too pretty even for that — you are individual — just
yourself, Nume."

"The Americazan lady always flatter, "the girl
said, rising to her feet, her face flushed and troubled.
"Japanese girl flatter too; Japanese girl tell you she
thing' you vaery pritty — but she nod mean. Tha's
only for polite. Thad you thing me pretty — tha's
polite. ' '

This speech provoked a hearty laugh from a gentle-
man reading a batch of letters at a small table.
e

70 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

"There's a lesson for you, Jenny. She can't jolly
you, eh, Nume?"

"Nume nod unerstan' to jolly, ' ' the girl answered.

"Come here, Nume, and I'll tell you," he called
across to her. She went over to his side, her little
serious face watching him questioningly.

"A jollier is an American classical word, Num£ —
a jollier is one who jollies you."

"Nume nod unerstan', still."

Mrs. Davis drew Nume away from him.

"Leave her alone, Walter," she said, reprovingly;
and then to the girl: "Nume, you must not believe
a thing he tells you. ' '

Walter Davis laid his paper-cutter down.

"Madam, are you teaching that young girl to lose
faith in mankind already?"

Mrs. Davis answered by placing her little hand
over his mouth and looking at him with her pretty
blue eyes so full of reproach that he pulled her down
beside him. They had been married only a little
over eighteen months.

"Here is the literal translation of the word
'jolly,' " he said to Nume. "Now, I want Mrs.
Davis to be in a good humor, so .1 squeeze her up
and tell her she is the darlingest little woman in the
world. ' '

Still the girl's face was troubled. She looked at
the husband and wife a moment; then she said,
very shyly: "Nume lig' to jolly, too."

Mrs. Davis pushed her husband's arm away.

"Don't use that word — it is ugly. Walter is full
of slang. "

AN AMERICAN CLASSIC. 71

"Ess, bud," she persisted, "z/ thad the 'jolly'
means to be /«/, then I Kg' thad liddle word."

"But you must not use the word, dear."

When Nume had gone to bed for the night, and
husband and wife were alone together, Mrs. Davis
reproached her husband.

' ' Really, Walter, I wish you would not teach that
poor little thing such — a — a — wicked things — or — or
that awful slang. First thing we know she will be
using it seriously. You have no idea how quickly
she catches on to the smallest new word, and she
will ask more questions about it, if it catches her
fancy, than a child of three. ' '

"That's her charm, my dear," the man answered.
"Ought to encourage it, Jen."

"She does not need that kind of a charm. She is
a charm all by herself. Every movement she makes
is charming, every halting word, — her own strange/
sweet beauty. She is irresistible, Walter. You
remember that Englishman who stayed over at the
Cranstons'? Well, you know what a connoisseur of
beauty every one thought him. You ought to have
heard him after he had seen Nume. He was
simply wild about her — called her a dainty piece of
Dresden china — a rose and lily and cherry blossom
in one. ' '

"Did he tell Nume so?"

4 ' No, he didn't get the chance. He made the awful
blunder of telling her father so. He (Mr. Wata-
nabe) disagreed very politely with him — said his
daughter was augustly homely, and wouldn't let the
poor little thing out of his sight for a month after.

72 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

Really, Walter, you needn't chuckle over it, — for
Nume suffered dreadfully about it. If you won't
laugh I'll tell you what she said to me afterwards,
though I believe it was you, yourself, )^ou wretch,
who taught her the words. I told her how sorry I
was that the Englishman had been so stupid ; because
she had told us never to praise her to her father — and
at any rate not to let any gentleman do so. Well, I
half apologized to her, because, you know, I had taken
him to their house, and she said, 'Nume not lig'
Egirisu' (Englishman) — 'he cot-tarn.' I know she
did not know what the word meant, poor little
thing, and I spent half a day explaining to her
why it was not proper to use such an expression.
Yes, you can laugh — you wicked thing — but really,
Walter, I won't let that child listen to you any
longer. ' '

Mrs. Davis left her husband almost in convulsions
over this, and stole on tiptoe to the girl's room.
She was sleeping without a pillow under her head.
Beside her on the bed was a small English-Japanese
dictionary. Mrs. Davis picked it up and glanced at
a page which was turned over. It was a page of the
letter J. Towards the bottom of the page was the
word "jolly," with the interpretation, "to be merry
—gay."

Her husband's definition had been unsatisfactory
to Nume, and she had looked it up in her little
dictionary.

"STILL A CHILD." 73

CHAPTER XVII.
"STILL A CHILD."

The next day Nume seemed strangely loath to
return home. For eight long years the girl had
thought almost constantly of Orito and their mar
riage which had always seemed so far away. Now
that he had come home, and the marriage seemed
but a matter of a few weeks, she was seized with a
sudden fear and dread of she knew not what. Long
after she had finished breakfast she still lingered
with the Davises, and though once or twice she had
gone restlessly to the door and looked out across the
fields toward where her own home was, she seemed
in no hurry to leave. Finally Mrs. Davis had
spoken to her, and asked if she did not think they
would be expecting her. Nume clung to the Amer-
ican lady's hands with a sudden terror.

"Nume is still nerviss, " she said.

"Shall I go back with you, dear?"

"No; let me stay with you."

About eleven in the morning, however, Orito
walked through the rice fields and came himself to
bring her home. Mrs. Davis saw him alone first,
and after they had exchanged greetings and talked
for a time of their mutual friends in America, she
told him of the girl's agitation and how, at the last
moment, she had broken down. The young man

74 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

appeared to be very much concerned, and begged
Mrs. Davis to tell Nume that she had nothing what-
ever to fear from meeting him. So Mrs. Davis
went into the next room to fetch Nume. She put
her arm round the girl and drew her gently into the
room where Orito was. Nume did not raise her
eyes to look at him. He, on the other hand, looked
at her very keenly, taking note of every sweet out-
line of her face and form. To please his father he
had resumed the Japanese costume, and now,
dressed in his hakama, he looked every inch a
Japanese gentleman, and should not have alarmed
Nume so seriously. Yet his manners had lost some
of the old Japanese polish, and as he crossed to her
side and lifted her little hand to his lips, it seemed
more the act of a foreigner than that of a Japanese.

At the light touch of his lips on her hand Nume's
confidence returned. She smiled, shyly, at him.
Orito was the first to speak.

"You are not much changed, Nume," he said.
"You look just as I expected you would — and — and
you are still a child."

Nume opened her little fan, and then closed it
with a swing.

"And you, I thing you so changed that you must
be Americazan," she said, shyly.

They sat and talked very politely to each other for
some time, neither of them alluding to their pro-
posed marriage ; in fact, both of them seemed anx-
ious to steer away from the subject altogether.
Orito addressed her in Japanese, but she, with a
strange wish to show off to him her pitifully limited

STILL A CHILD. 75

knowledge of the language of which she was
extremely proud, answered him in English.

Mrs. Davis drew Nume into the next room, before
she left, and raising her little flushed face, looked
down into her eyes as though she would fain have
discovered what was going on in her little heart.

"Are you disappointed, dear?"

"No ; me? — I am vaery joyous, ' ' the girl answered,
candidly.

^6 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE MEETING.

How different was the meeting between Cleo
Ballard and Arthur Sinclair! He had traveled over
night from Kyoto, and because there were no sleep-
ing accommodations on the train he had passed a
very uncomfortable night. Consequently, when he
arrived in Tokyo the next morning he was in any-
thing but a happy frame of mind. He had gone
directly to the hotel, and had followed his card to the
Ballards' suite of rooms. Mrs. Ballard was ill, as
usual. Tom had gone out, and Cleo was waiting
alone for him. She had slept very little through
the night, and there were dark shadows under her
eyes. She had stayed awake thinking of Sinclair,
and of his unkindness in failing to meet them. One
moment she thought of him bitterly, and of his
seeming indifference to her, the next her mind was
thrilled with the wonder and tenderness of her love,
which lost sight of his every fault. And now his
little card lay in her hand, and her heart was beat-
ing to suffocation, for the footsteps that she knew so
v>rell, the tall, athletic figure, and the deep voice she
had learned to adore. She had tried to steel herself
for this meeting, telling herself that she ought to
punish him for failing to meet her, but as his tall fig-
ure loomed up beside her she forgot everything save
that she loved him — loved him better than all else on
earth, that she had come thousands of miles to be

THE MEETING. 77

with him, and that she would never leave him again.
For a moment neither of them spoke. They looked
at each other, the one with hungry, yearning love,
the other with keen scrutiny, together with an hon-
est endeavor to call up some of the old passion he
had once had for her.

The girl's voice was almost frantic: —

"Why don't you speak to me, Arthur; — have you
ceased to — to love me?"

"Why of — of course not, Cleo."

She went close to him and put her hands on his
shoulder, looking into his fine, fair face with
beseeching, beautiful eyes. What man could have
resisted her, whether he loved her or not? Sin-
clair's arms closed about her, and somewhat of the
old passion did return as he kissed her, and held her
there. But she had broken down, and was sobbing
pitifully, hysterically, in his arms.

"Why, Cleo, what is the matter, dear?"

He drew her to a small lounge and sat down with
her, putting his arm affectionately about her, and
drawing her close to him.

"Oh, I don't know," she sobbed; "but I— I— Oh,
Arthur, I thought all sorts of awful things about
you. That you — that you did not love me — that you
did not want me to come — and — and — but I know it
is not true, now — and you will forgive me?"

She waited for his denial, almost longing to hear
him reprove her because her fears were unfounded.
Instead, he merely kissed her, saying she was a
foolish little girl.

After Cleo had quieted down a little she began to

?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
unkind. 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 perhaps you'd rather not hear me talk.
You do not answer when 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.

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 was 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 which 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 enough, almost, to be one of our own.
I had wings built onto it after I had been there

8o MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

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
knowing. ' '

So the two friends chatted on, turning from one
subject 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 familiarity 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 I fear that Arthur

CONFIDENCES. 81

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

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 had 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 must 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 protege. Sinclair
looked a trifle bored, though Tom was interested.

"Yes, they are all pretty, more or less," Sinclair
said, languidly; "but the deuce is, they are too
much alike."

"Well, Nume 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.

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 her 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

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

SINCLAIR'S INDIFFERENCE. 85

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 must 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.

86 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER XXI.
"ME? I LIG' YOU."

For a moment Sinclair was at a loss what to say to
Nume, 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. ' '

"ME? I LIG' YOU." 87

The girl looked gratefully at him. "Ess, I nod
lig' big crowd 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, I
have not met any Japanese ladies, and the Japanese
girls I 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 the 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

88 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

the girl stopped short here, and looked quite embar-
rassed a moment. Then she said :

"Nume talk too much, perhaps?" Her voice was
raised questioningly.

"No — no — Miss Nume cannot talk too much."

"Oa, " 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 Nume?"

"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 ! Nume 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 captivated 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 Nume, his face rather
flushed.

"Certainly," he said, coldly, and pronounced the
two girls' names.

Instinctively the woman nature in Nume scented
a rival — possibly an enemy. She wished the Amer-
ican gentleman would sit down again. She could

90 MISS NUME OP 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 my 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 Nume 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.

"ME? I LIG' YOU." 91

Sinclair 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 vaery happy,"
she continued, "because some day I 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, Nume," she said, "I want you to meet
some other people."

92 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER XXII.
ADVICE.

Mrs. Davis drew Numb into a corner of 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. "Me? I lig' only the— a— Mister Sinka. ' '

"Yes; but, Nume, 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 vaery 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,
Nume. 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."

Nume 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 Nume some pointers."

"Look here, Jenny, you'll spoil her — make her
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, too, 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.

Nume, 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

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 Nume, " he said.

The girl put her little hand behind her.

"Nume 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 Nume," 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.

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
promised 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 Nume 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

96 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 surrounded 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 Nume 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 Nume 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 had 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 spite 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 Nume. 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 JAPAN.

her, save in the presence of her father. And in
these talks about Nume, 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 understanding 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 Yedo (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 tin)'- cups of hot sake. Cleo did not
like the taste of sake. 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-

loo MISS NUME OP 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 geesa 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. 101

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 the
sak& 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.

104 MISS NUME 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 with,
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 fantas-
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 special 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 Nume's future, without saying a word.
Neither had he, as yet, spoken to Num& 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-seekers 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

106 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

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 first
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. I
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 house-
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
Orito 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
Nume-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?"

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. ' '

"It is— Takashima."

Jenny Davis' hands dropped from Cleo's
shoulders.

"Orito!"

CONFESSION. Hi

The two looked at each other in tragic silence.

"Cleo, how could you do it? There were enough
without him; — when was it? how? tell me all about
it—Oh! poor little Nume!"

"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
j •»

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 by 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 this to-day," she put the note
despairingly into her friend's hands.

"How dreadful! — 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. 113

"Yes; — once I almost told him so — at least I led
him to believe it — and it was true, almost, that
night."

"Cleo!'

"You tell him, Jenny."

"I! Why, he wouldn't listen to me, Cleo."

Cleo got up desperately, and began pacing the
floor.

"I will not give Arthur up, Jenny. You don't
know how I love him — love him. I think day and
night of him. I forgive him everything. He is
cold often, and I am humiliated at his indifference
at times, but I go on loving him better than ever.
I can't help it; — I shall love him as long as I live."

Jenny Davis watched her with anxious eyes.
She had known her for some years, had known her
better qualities, her weaknesses, her strength ; and
her heart ached for her. She was so beautiful, with
a lithe, grand, extraordinary beauty.

"Yes, Cleo," she said, slowly, "you are right.
You nnist go away — right at once. There is a party
of English tourists going to Matsushima Bay
to-morrow. Pack a few things hastily and join
them. I know them all well, and you know some of
them, too."

"Yes," the girl agreed, eagerly. "And you will
break it to him — you will save me — that — that
pain. ' '

"I will try, Cleo. " The two women were silent a
moment. Then Mrs. Davis said: "Cleo, does
Arthur Sinclair know?"

Cleo's eyes were full of a vague terror "No — no

114 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

— and he must not. Jenny, he is so strict about
such things — he would despise me; and then, Mr.
Takashima is his friend. He would not forgive me.
Jenny, he must not know." After a time she said,
almost wildly: "Jenny, I hate Takashima whenever
I think of his alienating Arthur and me for even a
moment, as he would do if — if Arthur found out. ' '

JAPANESE PRIDE. 115

CHAPTER XXVIII.
JAPANESE PRIDE.

The next day Cleo left Tokyo with the party of
tourists. Takashima, who had called during the
afternoon, found a note from her. It told him sim-
ply that she had decided to make a trip through the
island, and as the party left that day she had no
time save to write a hurried good-bye. The letter
was weak, conventional in its phrases, and
enigmatical. Had it been written to a westerner
he would have understood at once; in fact, her
manner, long before this, would have raised doubts
as to her honesty toward him. It did not have that
effect on Takashima, because it is the nature of the
Japanese to believe thoroughly in one until they are
completely undeceived. On returning home Orito
found waiting for him a dainty note from Mrs.
Davis, asking him to call on her.

It was a difficult task she had set herself — difficult
even for a woman of Mrs. Davis' social and worldly
experience.

When Orito looked at her with grave, attentive
eyes, in which were no traces of distrust, she felt
her heart begin to fail her before she had said a
word. They talked of the weather, of the flowers,
of the month, the foreigners in Tokyo, the pretty
geisha girls — every subject save the one she had at

n6 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

heart. Finally she dashed into it all at once, almost
desperately. Perhaps she had learned in that brief
interview why it had been so hard for Cleo to tell
him, for the young man's face was so earnest, pure,
and true.

"Cleo has told me — I know all about that — and I
— she told me to say — I mean — I know about your —
your caring for her, and ' '

The Japanese had risen sharply to his feet. He
was deathly pale.

"Will madam kindly not speak of this?" he said.
"I can only speak with Miss Ballard herself on this
subject."

After he had left her Mrs. Davis sat down help-
lessly, and wrote a flurried letter to Cleo.

"Dearest Cleo," it ran, "I tried to tell him;
tried harder than 1 ever tried to do anything in my
life. But he would not let me speak — stopped me
as soon as I got started, and I had not the heart to
insist."

SECLUSION. 117

CHAPTER XXIX.
SECLUSION.

Mrs. Davis had not seen Nume for some days.
She had heard that the girl was living in strict
seclusion, as it was customary for Japanese girls to
do previous to their marriage. With a woman's
quick wit and comprehension, however, Mrs. Davis
understood that she had taken umbrage, and, per-
haps, resented the lecture she had given her the
night of the party. She was afraid, too, that in her
earnest desire to serve both Cleo and Orito she had
given Nume a false impression of Americans. Mrs.
Davis was a good woman, and a wise one. She was
determined that nothing on earth should prevent
her friend's marriage with Sinclair. She knew Cleo
Ballard well enough to know the wonderful goodness
and generosity in her better nature. She knew also
that she loved Sinclair with a love that should have
been her salvation. In spite of all this, Mrs. Davis
was genuinely fond of Nume, though not, of course,
in the same way as she was of Cleo. It pained
her, therefore, to think that Nume was probably
suffering.

The day after Cleo left, she crossed the valley and

went down to the house of Watanabe Omi. With

her usual sang-froid, she asked to see Nume. Omi

made some very polite apologies, saying his honor-

e

n8 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

ably unworthy daughter was entertaining a friend,
and would the august American lady call the next day?

"No;" Mrs. Davis would like to see Nume's
friend also ; for Nume had told her she wanted her
to meet all of them.

She passed into the girl's room with the familiarity
of old acquaintance, for she and Nume had been
great friends, and Omi thought so much of her
that the American lady had got into the habit of
coming and going into and out of his house just
as she pleased, which was a great concession and
compliment for any Japanese to make to a for-
eigner.

She found Nume sitting with another Japanese
girl, playing Karutta. They laughed and talked as
they played, and Nume seemed quite light-hearted
and happy.

Mrs. Davis sat down on the mat beside her, and
after having kissed her very affectionately, asked
why she had not been over for so long.

"I come visite you to-morrow," the girl answered,
looking a trifle ashamed, as Mrs. Davis regarded her
reproachfully. Then, as she started to make further
apologies, the American lady said, very sweetly:
"Never mind, dear; I understand; — you did not
like what I told you the other night. ' '

Nume did not answer. The other Japanese girl
watched Mrs. Davis curiously. Mrs. Davis turned
smilingly to her and started to say something, but
stopped short, a look of puzzled recognition on her
face.

"I am sure I have seen your friend some-

SECLUSION. 119

where before, but I can't tell where," she said to
Nume.

"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

120 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

they are married, and sometimes preferring to remain
with them after they have married, rather than
marry themselves. It is no uncommon thing for
them to make sacrifices, sometimes almost heroic
ones, for their masters or mistresses.

FEMININE DIPLOMACY. 121

CHAPTER XXX.
FEMININE DIPLOMACY.

The next day Nume and Koto visited the Ameri-
can lady. Orito had gone up to Yokohama, Nume
told her, and would not be back for several days.

"You will be very lonely then, dear."

Nume sat in her favorite position, on the floor at
Mrs. Davis' knee. Koto trotted about the room,
examining with extreme interest and curiosity the
American furnishings and decorations.

"No; I nod be lonely," Nume said, "because I
nod seen Orito many 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, Nume."

Nume 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?"

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 Nume
bud Mrs. Davees ; thad is why Nume lig' to talk to
you. ' '

The American lady smiled.

"Suppose Japanese girl lig' instead some nise,
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,
Nume. What put such an idea into your head?"

Nume 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 yoii 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 who
they like."

' ' Bud, Mr. Sinka tell me nod to let any one choose
for me — thad I lig' " — she paused a moment, and
added vaguely, "thad I lig' who I lig'."

' ' Really, Nume, you might take my advice before
Mr. Sinclair's," the older lady said, quite provoked.

124 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER XXXI.
A BARBARIAN DINNER.

The girls stayed to dinner with Mrs. Davis. Koto
had never eaten an American dinner before, though
Nume 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. 125

"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."

Nume translated this to the Americans, apologia-
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 Nume 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.

iz6 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF LOVE.

After dinner Nume 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
itisOrito."

"Why shall I promise?" the girl asked.

"Because it is not the right thing to say to any
one."

"But if 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 they'marry.
After marriage big bit. Koto say geisha girl luf big

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 — afterward they
marry vaery habby . ' '

Nume 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! Nume 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."

128 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

Nume tossed her head provokingly. "All the
same, Nume still thing' 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.

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, Nume-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? 131

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" (Nume) "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 of Sinclair
causing her to modify her answers so that they
might suit the case. The worst of the matter was
that although Nume would thank her very sweetly

132 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

for any information on the subject, she had a
lingering doubt that she ever wholly believed her,
and that, in spite of her advice, the girl would will-
fully permit her thoughts to run riot. No! the
Americazan lady could not prevent Nume from
thinking of whom she chose.

CONSPIRATORS. 133

CHAPTER XXXIV.
CONSPIRATORS.

This visit to Mrs. Davis' house broke the retire-
ment Omi and Nume 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 mournfully 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,
and were plump and healthy and happy. Nume
and Koto would play with them as joyously as if
they, themselves, were children.

One day when Nume and Koto were in the woods
10

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, Nume 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 ea^er as Nume 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 we see Shiku?" Nume 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. ' '

Nume 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.

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
returned from Matsushima. She was enchanted
with the beauty of the wonderful bay, and after the
strain she had been under in Tokyo, it was a great
relief for her to be away from the noise of the city
in a spot that suggested only beauty and rest.

Sinclair had 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 could 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 do Ice 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

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 :

"Some 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

140 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

pocket, pulling out a handful of small change.
"How much is it, Shiku?"

"Fifteen sen."

"Here you are."

"Wait a moment," 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.

142 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

"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 were in good
humor. As for Nume and Koto, they stepped
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 Nume. 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.

Nume 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 Nume?" 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, "Nume
does not wish to be painted. ' '

"Well, what about Koto?"

Koto nodded her head in undisguised pleasure at
the prospect.

144 MISS NUME OP JAPAN.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
DISPROVING A PROVERB.

While Taylor sketched Koto, Sinclair and Nume
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, Nume?"

"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 f adder
vaery proud of me sometimes, an' thad I marry
with Orito ; 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 vaery 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 mus* 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.

"Nume," 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 — Nume-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."

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 deliriously, 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
Nume 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. ' '

Nume 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?
n

150 MISS NUME OP JAPAN.

"Oh, no — not 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.

"Nume," 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
Nume."

"Forgive you, Nume!" 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.

"Nume, Nume, don't you understand — don't you
know?"

"No! Nume 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, Nume," 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.

"Numb — Nume!" was all he said; but he kissed
her little hands at parting [with a vehemence and
passion he had never known.

152 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER XL.
A PASSIONATE DECLARATION.

"Koto," Num& 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," Numk 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 Nume 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 vaery mas' 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, Nume. She is a good woman, and

154 MISS NUME OP JAPAN.

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! Nume! NumeT'

"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, Nume —
sweetheart. ' '

He drew her towards him, but the girl still held
back.

"Wait," she cried, almost in terror. "We mus*
be sure firs' thad my father, thad Orito will not kill-
ing me. ' '

"Kill you!" the man scoffed at the idea.

' ' Bud Nume is afraid, ' ' she persisted, and pulled
her little hands desperately from his. She ran a
little way from him, a sudden feeling 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 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER XLI.
A HARD SUBJECT TO HANDLE.

When the girls reached their home that afternoon
they found Mrs. Davis waiting for them. Nume,
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, Nume is so habby," she said.

Mrs. Davis undid the clinging arms, and looked
the girl in the face. Then Nume 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
Nume".

"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 must stay."
The little maid left them together.

"Nume, how could you be so sly?"

"Sly!" the girl was startled.

"Yes — to think that all these weeks when you
have been pretending to be alone with Koto in the
woods, you have been meeting Mr. Sinclair."

The girl turned on her defiantly.

A HARD SUBJECT TO HANDLE. 157

"I nod telling you account tha's nod business for
you. ' '

"Well, Nume!"

"I getting vaery lonely, and meeting only by acci-
dent with Mr. Sinka. ' '

"Does your father know?" the other asked,
relentlessly.

The girl approached her with terror. "No! Oh,
Mrs. Davees, don't tell yet." After a time she
asked her: "How did you 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 set her to thinking;
Koto's and Nume'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
Nume she must find out from the girl herself,
though she was not prepared to trust her completely
when she realized how Nume 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

158 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

would break her heart to give Sinclair up now, after
all the years she had waited for him.

"Nume, " 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!
Nume, 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. Sinka 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 to — Nume, what are you talking
about? Are you conscienceless? When did he
write — what?"

A HARD SUBJECT TO HANDLE. 159

"He say he writing soon, and I telling Onto, too. "
The girl's complacency cut Mrs. Davis to the
quick. She forgot all 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.

"Nume, you can't really care for — for Sinclair."
"Ess — I luf," the girl interrupted, softly.
"Come and sit at my knee, Nume, 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, Nume, Nume, you have been a very foolish —
very cruel little girl. ' ' Nevertheless, she bent and
kissed the wistful upturned face.

160 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER XLIL
A STORY.

"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, Nume. 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, Nume, 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 you
tired?" she interrupted herself to ask the girl, who
had moved restlessly.

"No."

A STORY. 161

"Well, Nume, 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, Nume.
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, Nume, 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 Nume; for she knew the
girl's weakness lay in her tender heart.

''''Only whad, Mrs. Davees?"

"Nume — the girl was Miss Ballard — the man Mr.
Sinclair. Oh, Nume, you don't want to separate

162 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

them now after all these years. Think how cruel it
would be. It would kill her, and ' '

Nume 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 Orito 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.

"Nume will marry only Orito," she said. "Nume
will tell Mr. Sinka so. ' '

The other woman put her arms around the girl
and attempted to draw her to her with the old affec-
tion ; but Nume 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 Nume 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! Nume
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.

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, Nume!"

She opened her little fan and shaded her face a
moment.

' ' Ess — Nume 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 want to have any more fon. ' ' She clung to that
word persistently.

"You do not want any more fun, Nume!" he
repeated, slowly; "I don't understand you."

"Ess — it is all 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 Nume does nod
wand any more fon with you — she tired vaery much
of Mr. Sinka. ' '

A silence, tragic in its feeling, passed between
them.

"What do you mean, Nume?" 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.

"Nume!" 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, Num&
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

166 MISS NUME OP 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. Nume 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?"

4 ' 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 Nume?" he asked.

The old man shook his head sadly.

"Quite sick," he said. "She grew very sad and

168 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 Numk 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" (Farewell).

"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,
Nume. 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.

NUME BREAKS DOWN. 169

Orito 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 Nume'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
Nume were comfortable. "Nume wanted to be all
alone with Koto, where no one — not even 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 Nume
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, Nume
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 please
her, but Nume 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.

TRYING TO FORGET. 171

CHAPTER XLV.
TRYING TO FORGET.

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

172 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

of their playmates in the schools, and which he
declared was encouraged by the teachers. In this
way he had antagonized some bitter Japanese
against 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 discharge.

He had seen nothing of Nume 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 personally to
superintend for the time being, Sinclair could not
forget Nume. 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 music. In spite of himself he could not
hate her. Had she been an ordinary woman it
might have been different, but with Nume could he
cherish anything harsher 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
herk days that were tinged with bitterness and
regret now,

AN OBSERVANT HUSBAND. i?3

CHAPTER XLVI.
AN OBSERVANT HUSBAND.

So, though Sinclair tried honestly to forget Nume
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 fake 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 going away," Sinclair said,
absently; "besides, Cleo is coming back next week,
anyhow. ' '

"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,"

174 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

he 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
Nume, 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 wanted 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 even 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

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."

176 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

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. Countless 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 with 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 cho from the beach.
This temple originally belonged to Marquis Date,
the feudal lord of Sendai, who sent an envoy to
Rome in the seventeenth century, and a wooden

MATSUSHIMA BAY. 177

image of him still stands in the temple. Or they
climbed Mount Tomi in order to get a view of the
matchless bay with its countless white rocks; eight
hundred and eight, they are said to number, and
there is only one rock in the entire bay which is
bare of foliage. It is called Hadakajima, or Naked
Island.

Sinclair arrived in this ideal, quiet, restful spot,
travel-stained, sick-hearted and weary. Some of
his travel had been by rail, a great part solely by
kurumma. He had sent Cleo Ballard no word of his
proposed trip, and he was not expected. She was
not at the hotel when he arrived, having gone out
with her party to the mountains.

Sinclair went immediately to the room assigned
him, and after bathing went to bed in the middle of
the day. He had not slept for several days, in spite
of the strange lassitude and weariness he had felt.
The inviting white of the American bed tempted
him. It was perhaps the first real sleep he had had
in weeks.

When the party of tourists returned to the hotel
the clerk told Cleo Ballard of the arrival of a gentle-
man who had enquired for her. A glance at the
register showed her Arthur Sinclair's name.

Fanny Morton and a number of women acquaint-
ances were at her elbow. After the first start of
emotion and surprise she tried to appear calm before
them and as if she had expected him.

"So he has arrived?" she said carelessly to Tom
— and to the clerk : ' ' Please send him word that we
have returned."

178 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

The boy brought the answer back that the Amer-
ican gentleman was sleeping — they did not like to
wake him

' ' He must be very tired, ' ' the girl said.

Sinclair did not appear in the dining-room that
evening. His dinner was served to him in his room,
and Cleo Ballard saw nothing of him till the follow-
ing day.

"I am so glad you have come, dear," she told
him ; ' ' the summer was going by so quickly, and I
was afraid you had forgotten your promise. ' '

' ' Did I make any promise, ' ' he asked, indifferently.

"Why, of course, Arthur;" she looked hurt.

"Well, I forgot, Cleo. One can't remember all
these little things, you know. ' '

"Then what made you come?" she asked, sharply,
stung by his indifference.

"Not because of any promise, my dear," he said.
"Simply because I was tired," and then as he saw
her hurt face he added, with forced gentleness: "I
wanted to see you — that was the chief reason, of
course. ' '

Cleo melted.

"You know, dear," she said, "we had arranged to
go back to Tokyo the end of this week. Of course
we will postpone our return, now, on your account.
Yor really must see the country with us. ' '

"Well, Cleo, I have seen Matsushima before. I
only wanted a change for a day or two, that was all.

No; don't delay the return home — as — I ," he

struck some gravel aside with his cane; "the fact
is, it is too quiet here, and I prefer the city."

MATSUSHIMA BAY. 179

The party returned to Tokyo about a week later,
Sinclair feeling somewhat better. The bracing air,
the beauty of the bay, and the constant companion-
ship of friends, served to turn his mind, for a time,
from his troubles.

l8o MISS NUME OP JAPAN.

CHAPTER XLVIII.
A REJECTED LOVER.

Sinclair found a very odd letter waiting for him
on his return to Tokyo. It was written in English,
and ran as follows :

TOKYO, August 20, 1896.
HON. A. SINCLAIR.

Dear Master Sir: — Here I write to you ashamed
to say to below lines.

I intend to marry in next month soon as I get
money. I must spend two hundred yen while I
marry. My father gave me fifty yen upon day
before yesterday, and I was have twenty yen on my
hands. I have already seventy yen at present, and
I know extraly some of my friends will help me.

Anyway, soon I shall have full one hundred yen,
but I cannot begin marrying with that much money,
so I complain to you for borrow me some money if
you like that I going to marry. If you thinking
right and borrow me some in this time, I will be
thousand thanks for you until before I die. After-
ward I will pay back to you as soon as I can, but I
cannot pay you all in one time. I would pay six
yen each end of per month.

Although this is not great bisiness for you, but as
for me first greatly bisiness in my life. If you do
not like to borrow me some money in this time I
never marry in before several years.

Do as you please that you like it or not.

I have very many things to tell you, but I know
English very little so I stop.

Your lovely (loving) clerk,
SHIKU.

KOTO WOULD NOT MARRY.

A REJECTED LOVER. 181

Sinclair read the letter aloud to Taylor, and both
of them laughed heartily, enjoying the contents;
then he touched the electric button on his desk.
The next minute Shiku was with them.

"So you want to marry, Shiku?"

"Yaes, master-sir."

"Um! Have you settled on the girl yet?"

"Yaes, master-sir."

"Fortunate girl!" from Taylor.

"And you think she'll have you?"

"Yaes, master-sir."

"What's her name?"

"Tominaga Koto."

"Not Koto whom I painted in the woods?" put in
Taylor.

The boy nodded his head sagely.

Sinclair had grown suddenly silent. The mention
of Koto's name instantly called up memories of
Nume — memories that he had told himself, when at
Matsushima with Cleo Ballard, would no longer
cause him a pang. His voice was quite gentle as he
spoke to Shiku.

"Well, go ahead and marry her, Shiku. I'll make
you a gift of the money, and perhaps a trifle more. ' '

The boy thanked him humbly, repeating over and
over that he was a thousand thanks to him until
before he died.

"Rum little chap that," Taylor said, as the boy
left them.

"Yes, he is a bright little fellow. Been with me
now ever since I came to Japan."

"Well, he's going to get a mighty pretty girl."

13

182 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

"Yes — I suppose so — as good as the rest of them."

The next day Shiku presented himself before the
consul with a very woe-begone and disappointed
countenance.

"Well, Shiku, what luck?" Sinclair asked him.
For the boy had gone straight to Koto.

4 ' Koto will not marry with me, master-sir. ' '

"Why, I thought you told me she had already
promised."

"Yaes — bud — she changing her mind."

Sinclair laughed, shortly.

"Been fooling you?"

"No;" he hesitated a moment, as though he
feared to tell Sinclair the truth. Then he said:
"She not like for to leave her mistress now; — " he
paused again, looking uneasily at the consul, and
shifting from one foot to the other.

Sinclair had been opening some letters with a paper-
cutter while the boy had been speaking. He suddenly
laid it down, and wheeled round on his chair.

"Well?"— he put in.

"Nume-san is quite sick," the boy said.

"Quite sick!" Sinclair rose with an effort. He
was struggling with his desire to seem indifferent,
even before the office boy, but a sudden feeling of
longing and tenderness was overpowering him. It
shocked him to think of Nume's being ill — bright,
happy, healthful Nutne.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

4 ' I not know. Koto say she cry plenty, and grow very
thin, — that she have very much luf for somebody."

"Ah!"

A REJECTED LOVER. 183

"I tell Koto," the boy continued, "that I think
she love Takashima Orito, and that he not love her
she is very sad."

Sinclair began to pace the floor with restless,
unsteady strides.

"Yes — it's doubtless that, Shiku," he said, nerv-
ously. "Well, I'm sorry — sorry that your — that
your marriage will have to wait. ' '

184 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER XLIX.
THE ANSWER.

The same day that Sinclair had heard of Nume's
illness, Cleo Ballard received a letter from Orito.
It was very brief and simple.

"I am coming to see you," it ran, "at seven
o'clock to-night, before your party will start. Then
will I ask you for the answer you promised me. ' '

Mrs. Davis was with her when she received the
letter.

"Now, you must be strong, my dear," she said.
"See him, and have it all over."

"Yes, I will," Cleo Ballard said.

Precisely at seven o'clock Takashima Orito pre-
sented himself at the hotel. He had told his father
and Omi of his mission there ; and the two old men
were waiting in great trepidation for his return.

As he stood, calm but expectant, by the girl's
side, waiting for her to speak first, she felt a sudden
fear of him. She did not know what to say. She
knew he was determined to have a direct answer
now.

"I don't know what to say." She broke the
strained silence desperately.

"I have only one answer to expect," he said, very
gently. This answer silenced the girl. The Japan-
ese came closer to her and looked full in her face.

THE ANSWER. 185

"Will you marry with me, Miss Cleo?"

"I — I " She shrank back, her face scared and

averted.

1 ' I cannot ! ' ' she said, scarcely above a whisper.

She did not look at him. She felt, rather than
saw, that he had grown suddenly rigid and still.
His voice did not falter, however.

"Will you tell me why?" he asked.

"Because — I — am already betrothed — to Mr. Sin-
clair. Because I never could love any one but
him."

The shadows began to darken in the little sitting-
room. The Japanese was standing almost as if pet-
rified to the spot, immovable, silent. Suddenly she
turned to him.

"Forgive me," she said, and tried to take his
hand.

He turned slowly and left the room without one
backward look.

The silence of the room frightened her. She
went to a window and put her head out. A sudden
vague terror of she knew not what seized her. Why
was everything so still? Why did he leave her like
that? If he only had reproached her — that would
have been better; — but to go without a word to her!
It was awful — it was uncanny — cruel. What did he
intend to do? She began to conjure up in her mind
all sorts of imaginary terrors. She told herself that
she hated the stillness of the Japanese atmosphere;
she wanted to go away — back to America, where
she could forget everything — where, perhaps, Sin-
clair would be to her as he had been in the old days.

1 86 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

She had been on a nervous strain all day, and she
broke down utterly.

Mrs. Davis found her walking up and down the
room hysterically.

"There, dear — it is all over now," — she put her
arms about the girl and tried to soothe her.

"No, no, Jen; I feel it is not over. I think — I
imagine — Oh, Jenny, I don't know what to think.
He acted so queerly. I don't know what to think.
I dread everything. Jenny," she put her hand
feverishly on the other woman's shoulder, "tell me
about these Japanese — can they — do they feel as
deeply as we do?"

"Yes — no; don't let's talk about them, dear.
Remember, they are giving you and the travelers a
big party to-night at the hotel. You must dress — it
is nearly eight now."

THE BALL. 187

CHAPTER L.
THE BALL.

Never had Cleo Ballard appeared so beautiful as
that night. Her eyes shone brightly with excite-
ment, her cheeks were a deep scarlet in hue, and her
wonderful rounded neck and arms gleamed daz-
zlingly white against the black lace of her gown.

Even Sinclair roused out of his indifference to
look after her in deep admiration.

"You are looking very beautiful to-night, Cleo,"
he said; and ten minutes afterwards Tom, passing
with Rose Cranston on his arm, laid his hand on
Cleo's shoulder : "You are looking unnaturally beau-
tiful, Cleo. Anything wrong?"

"Must there necessarily be something wrong,
Tom, because I am looking well?"

Tom gave her a scrutinizing glance. In spite of
her quick bantering words there was something in
the girl which made him think she was laboring
under some intense excitement, and that it was this
very excitement that was buoying her up and lend-
ing her a brilliancy that was almost unnatural. Tom
knew the reaction must come. All through the
evening he watched his cousin. She was surrounded
almost constantly, save when she danced. Later in
the evening he pushed his way to her side. She
was resting after a dance.

1 88 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

"Cleo, you are dancing too much," he said, noting
the girl's flushed cheeks.

"One can't do anything too much, you know,
Tom. I hate moderation in anything — I hate any-
thing lukewarm;" she was answering at random.
He put his hand on hers. They burned with fever.

"You are not well at all," he said, and then
added, looking about them anxiously: "I wonder
where Sinclair is?"

The girl was possessed with a sudden anger.

"Don't ask me, Tom. I would be the last person
to know of his whereabouts. ' ' The words were very
bitter.

"You know, Cleo," he answered her, soothingly,
"Sinclair never did care for this kind of thing. He
is doubtless in the grounds somewhere. Wait — I'll
hunt him up." He rose from his seat, but the girl
stayed him peremptorily.

"Not for my sake, Tom. Oh, I assure you, I shall
not wither without him," she said.

Tom sat down beside her again.

"Look here, little sis, don't get cynical — nor — nor
untruthful. I know very well you want to see Sin-
clair. I have not seen you together all evening, and
I believe it's partially that which makes you so rest-
less. No use trying to fool old Tom about any-
thing. ' '

Cleo did not argue the point any longer, and Tom
passed on to the piazza of the hotel.

Quite a lot of the guests were congregated there,
some of them telling tales, others listening to the
music. Tom made his way to where he saw Mrs.

THE BALL. 189

Davis standing. She was with Fanny Morton, and
they seemed to be waiting for some one.

August is the universal month for holding ban-
quets in honor of the full moon, in Japan, and gay
parties of pleasure-seekers are to be met on the
streets at all hours of the night

"Seen Sinclair anywhere about?" Tom asked
them.

"Yes, Tom," Mrs. Davis said, nervously. "He
and Walter went down the street for a while.
Something has happened. Mr. Sinclair thought
some one had got hurt. They said they would be
back in a minute."

Tom waited with the two women. The dance
music floated out dreamily on the air, mingled with
the incessant chatter and laughter of the guests.
Inside the brilliantly-lighted ball-room the figures of
the dancers passed back and forth before the windows.

As they sat silently listening, and watching the
gay revelry, a weird sound struck on their ears — it
was the muffled beating of Buddhist drums.

The two women and Tom rose to their feet
shivering. They turned instinctively to go indoors.
Standing quite near the door by which they entered
was Cleo. Her beautiful face was flushed with
fever; her eyes were filled with terror. She was
leaning forward, listening to the faint, muffled beat
of the drums.

"Some one is dead!" she said, in a piercing whis-
per, and threw her beautiful bare arms high above
her head as she fell prone at their feet.

MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER LI.

THE FEARFUL NEWS.

What awful premonition of disaster had filled Cleo
Ballard all that night! The guests gathered awe-
struck about the fallen figure which, but a moment
before, was so full of life, vivacity, and beauty.

"What is the matter?" some one breathed.

Fanny Morton's sharp words cut the air:

"Some Japanese has died, that is all — killed him-
self, they say. She fainted when she heard the
drums beat. ' '

Very gently they carried the unconscious girl to
her room. The music had ceased; the guests had
lost their appetite for enjoyment. Almost with one
accord all, save a few stragglers, had deserted the
ball-room, and were now grouped in the grounds of
the hotel, or on the steps and piazzas, waiting for
the return of the two men who had gone to learn the
cause of the alarm.

At last they came up the path. They walked
slowly, laggingly. Mrs. Davis ran down to meet
them.

"What is it?" she whispered, fearfully. "Cleo
has fainted, and a panic has spread among all the
guests."

Walter Davis's usually good-tempered face was
bleached to a white horror.

THE FEARFUL NEWS. 191

"Orito, his father, and Watanabe Omi have all
killed themselves," he said, huskily.

The American lady stood stock-still, staring at
them with fixed eyes of horror. The news spread
rapidly among the guests, all of whom had known
both families well. They were asking each other
with pale lips — the cause? the cause?

Mrs. Davis clung in terror to her husband.

"Keep it from Cleo," she almost wailed. "Oh,
don't let her know it — she must not know it — she
must not."

The guests lingered late that night, in the open
air. It was past three o'clock before they began to
disperse slowly, one by one, to their rooms or their
homes.

192 MISS NUME OP JAPAN.

CHAPTER LII.

THE TRAGEDY.

After leaving Cleo Ballard, Orito had jumped into
the waiting kurumma, and had been driven directly
home. There he found the two old men waiting for
him. The house was unlighted, save by the moon-
light, which was very bright that night, and
streamed into the room, touching gently the white
heads of the two old men as they sat on their mats
patiently awaiting Orito's return. It touched some-
thing bright, also, that lay on a small table, and
which gleamed with a scintillating light. It was a
Japanese sword!

Orito entered the house very silently. He bowed
low and courteously as he entered the room, in stiict
Japanese fashion. Then he began to speak.

"My father, you have accused me sometimes of
being no longer Japanese. To-night I will surely
be so. The woman of whom I told you was false,
after all." His eyes wandered to the sword and
dwelt there lovingly. He crossed to where it lay
and picked it up, running his hand down its blade.

"I have no further desire to live, my father.
Should I live I would go on loving — her — who is so
unworthy. That would be a dishonor to the woman
I would marry for your sakes, perhaps. Therefore,
'tis better to die an honorable death than to live a
dishonorable life; for it is even so in this country,

THE TRAGEDY. 193

that my death would atone for all the suffering I
have caused you. Very honorable would it be. ' '

Sadly he bade the two old men farewell; but
Sachi stayed his arm, frantically.

"Oh, my son, let thy father go first," he said.

One thrust only, in a vital part, a sound between
a sigh and a moan, and the old man had fallen.
Then quick as lightning Orito had cut his own
throat. Omi stared in horror at the fallen dead.
They were all he had loved on earth, for, alas!
Nume had represented to him only the fact that she
would some day be the wife of Orito. Never, since
her birth, had he ceased to regret that she had not
been a son. He picked the bloody sword up, and
with a hand that had lost none of its old Samourai
cunning he soon ended his own life.

About an hour after this a horror-stricken servant
looked in at the room in its semi-darkness. He saw
the three barely distinguishable dark forms on the
floor, and ran wildly through the house, alarming all
the servants and retainers of the household. Soon
the room was flooded with light, and the dead were
being raised gently and prepared for burial, amidst
the lamentations of the servants, who had fairly
idolized them. Relatives were sent for in post
haste, and before the night had half ended the
muffled beating of Buddhist drums was heard on the
streets, for the families were well known and
wealthy, and were to be given a great and honor-
able funeral. And also, the sounds of passionate
weeping filled the air, and floated out from the
house of death.

194 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER LIII.
A LITTLE HEROINE.

It was three days later. Cleo Ballard had been
sick with nervous prostration ever since the night of
the ball. Mrs. Davis was with her constantly, and
would permit no one whatever to see her — not even
Sinclair. She had told the facts to her husband and
to the doctor, and had enlisted them on her side ; so
that it was not a difficult matter for her, for the time
being, and while Cleo lay too ill to countermand
her orders, to forbid any one from intruding, for she
did not want her to know of the awful tragedy that
had transpired.

Sinclair inquired day and night after Cleo's
health, and sent flowers to her. He, himself, had
suffered a great deal since that same night, what
with the shock of his friend's death, Cleo's unex-
pected illness, and, above all, an inexplicable long-
ing and desire to see Nume — to go to her and
comfort her in this fresh trial that had come to her.
She was now utterly alone in the world, he knew,
save for one distant relative.

Thoroughly exhausted with the trials of the last
days, and wishing to get away from the hotel, Sin-
clair had shut himself indoors, and had thrown him-
self on a couch, trying vainly to find rest He kept
puzzling over the cause of Takashima's death.

A LITTLE HEROINE. 195

Whether the truth had been suspected among some
of the Americans who had been on the boat with
Cleo and Onto or not, no one had as yet breathed a
word of it to him. As he lay there restlessly, some
one tapped on his wall.

"Who is it?" he called, fretfully.

"It is Shiku, master-sir."

"Well, come in."

The boy entered almost fearfully, and began
apologizing profusely in advance.

"It is Koto who has made me intrude, master,"
he said. "She is waiting outside for you, and tells
me she must talk with you. She will not enter the
house, however, and she is very much fearful."

The American went to the door. There stood
Koto, a trembling, frightened little figure in the
half-light.

"Come in, Koto," he said, noting her embarrass-
ment; and then, as she still hesitated, he drew her
very gently but firmly into the house and closed the
door. Soon she was seated in one of his large
chairs, and because she was such a little thing it
seemed almost to swallow her up.

"Nume not know that I come tell you of our
grade sadness," she said, stumblingly. "Mrs.
Davis will not forgive me forever, but I come tell
you the trute, Mister Consul." She began to weep
all of a sudden, and could go no further. The sight
of the wretched little sobbing figure touched Sin-
clair very deeply. He thought she had some revela-
tion to make about the death of Onto. He was
unprepared for her next words.

196 MISS NUME OP JAPAN.

"My mistress, Nume-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 not to fool with you. I tell you the
trute. Mrs. Davis tell Nume 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 Nume 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 Nume 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 mus* not

A LITTLE HEROINE. 197

worg any longer for Nume ; 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 come?"

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 Nume's confidence:
"for you are so big."

14

198 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER LIV.
SINCLAIR LEARNS THE TRUTH AT LAST.

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 Nume ; 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 alto-
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

his 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 I can 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 every one 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.

ioo 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 Nume suffered."

"Why, Nume — 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 (Nume) 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 Nume," 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 Nume," 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."

202 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER LV.

LOVERS AGAIN.

Koto had told Nume 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 Nume's great sorrow and illness she would
have no one by her save Koto, and once in 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 Nume. 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, Nume 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. 203

the city and see the American and tell him the truth.
For Nume 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 were 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 Nume did not reply. Her little head had
fallen back weakly against the pillow. She was

204 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

looking away out before her. After a time Koto
put her arms about her, and they clung together.

"Koto," Nume said, vaguely, "will you leave me
now? Or will you stay with me forever? Nume is
so lonely now."

Koto evaded the question.

"I will stay with you, Nume-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 Nume. 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. She 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 Nume.

She went down to meet Sinclair, and admitted
him into the house. She pointed to the room where
Nume was and then left him.

Sinclair pushed aside the shoji and passed into
the room.

Nume 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.

"Nume! Nume!" 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

told me everything, and — and oh! Nume!" 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. "Nume tig* 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 friend foraever, ' ' Nume said.

"We will be Koto's friends forever," Sinclair
answered.

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 Nume. 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 trembling as the
letter slipped to her feet.

"I expected it," she said, bitterly, to Mrs. Davis;
arid 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,
"7 couldn't bear to stay here — after — after you were
gone. We will all be happy when in America
again. 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 could feel the same here. ' '
So she rattled on to Cleo, trying to take 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)Tthing ! "

She looked at the girl's calm, emotionless face
in horror. "And — and you "

"I've known it some time 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."

208 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

"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 Jiate 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
Orito!"

"Cleo!"

"Yes, it is true," she went on, wildly. "He
was better than the other. So much tenderer and
truer — the best man I ever knew — the only per-
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 beginning 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 had
deserted me — had let me know the truth that he
never did care for me — 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.

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 afford 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
me good now to talk — to speak of it all."

212 MISS NUME OP 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 — Iloved/«;« — Onto!" 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 /ate/"

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 Nume 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, she said to
him, abruptly, with a sharp questioning note in her
voice that wanted to be denied:

THE PITY OF IT ALL. 213

"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.

»

214 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

CHAPTER LVIII.

MRS. DAVIS'S NERVES.

The next day Sinclair brought Cleo to call on
Nume. It was the first time the two girls had
ever really talked with each other. At first Nume
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 had 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's so perlite thad you cummin' to see me,"
she said.

Cleo smiled, the first time in days, perhaps.
It pleased Nume. "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. DAVIS'S NERVES. 215

Matsu only the previous night, and they had all
agreed that Cleo's desire to see her (Nume) was
prompted by remorse, which remorse Nume 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. Says
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 Nume'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 Nume/ Well ! "

"Yes, she wanted to know Nume, she said, before
going away," Sinclair told her.

"She will never cease surprising me," Mrs.
Davis said, plaintively. "She ought not to excite

216 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 — Nume will do her
good, I believe."

CLEO AND NUME. 217

CHAPTER LIX.
CLEO AND NUME.

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. Nume wished she would
say something.

"You Kg' 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 friens, Mees Tominago Koto. ' '

Koto was as anxious as Nume to please, and as
she had seen Nume 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 Nume, and they
were all laughing.

2i8 MISS NUME OF JAPAN.

"Well, we've come for the invalid," said
Tom, cheerily. "She has been out long enough."

"I have enjoyed my visit," she told them, simply.
"And Nume," she turned to her, "Nume, 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 Kg'
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 Kg' me
visite with you also. Yaes?"

"Of course; you would stay with us," Tom
said, cordially.

"Thad is perlite," she breathed, ecstatically.

"Not polite, Nume," Sinclair corrected, smil-
ing, "but, well — 'nize,' as you would call ft."

"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 Nume, who
had overheard her and half understood. "Thad you

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 Nume 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 Nume. 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-

220 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.

THE END.

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