Takara did not change, nor chafe, nor exalt under the new conditions; she only loved Tetsutaisho, and being installed in his house she felt secure in what before hardly seemed a reality. His heart was hers, she reasoned, and the law made his domicile her privilege. And had he not convinced her? And might not Nehachibana be proud of her husband’s choice? Better such a concubine than an absent husband, she thought; and, after all, need she rob her sister-in-law of what seemed impossible?

The lovers were happy, and Nehachibana, at first flushed and nervous, had now grown cold and calm. Her own chamber was comfortable, even luxurious, yet for hours she would lay her ear close to the frail partition, and a monster bade the fancies that leaped to her brain. In her bath no abomination had entered. No mugwort or sweet flag had desecrated there. Yet the stork was as silent as the tombs of Nodo, and her hopes had changed to fear, her position to that of a slave. Once she crouched low and listened; then she clutched at emptiness and her face whitened, and she crawled back to her own miserable mat and there planned and determined. Presently she slept, and dreamed of her master’s expected son, which to her had been a blessing.

Nor was she alone in her suspicions, for what she had heard and dreamed the silvered poet visioned and divined. The spirit had touched him, too, and he sorrowed when he waked. Then as if moved by an uncontrollable impulse he stole to Takara’s abandoned home and there mused at the unhallowed life of his downfallen mistress, his idolised queen. Maido, too, had gone there to reflect, and he made no move to disturb the other, but left him to bide the impulse of his nature, commune with the god of his disturbed conscience. Michizane was the product of a nobler life, the devotee of a gentler age, and a worshipper at the tomb of an ancestry far removed from the wicked intrigues of a feudal aristocracy. His was of the mikado’s way, the effect of a divine inspiration. To transgress from its sacred guidance was to fall from the pale of life and to forfeit every privilege of redemption.

Takara, too, was born and bred of this master influence, and notwithstanding her impulsive nature possessed all the charm and dignity of a royal personage, together with that broader intellect which comes of high endeavour, and that better grace which is the product of refined associations. She was proud though not haughty, and in her soul there lived a purpose.

Unlike her, Nehachibana was the product of a proud nobility. Shut up within the castle gates, she had always been idolised and petted. She had known of no want that was not supplied, and had expressed not a wish that was not gratified; every luxury had been showered upon her. Her sense of the good was the one bright hope in her life, for she knew not the force of intellect, nor had she been taught to reason. When she went forth into the world she was helpless in the race, and when she tasted of the bitter it was like the gall of quassia, and she fell at the shrine of Amida.

Of a sweet disposition, Nehachibana had always looked upon the brighter side of life; therefore it was the more difficult for her to reconcile herself to the thought that hers was not a just treatment. She sometimes felt that it was her own shortcomings that had driven her husband away from her, and then she would set about with renewed effort to see that his house was made agreeable to his coming, and her love worthy of his taking. Once she said to herself:

“I shall please him. He is mine and I must win. No other loves him as I do; none but me can have him. He is mine unto death. I shall—but oh! that other one! And the law, and I—O Kami, my heart, my heart, it is breaking! Is there no help? Is there no help for—me? But she, she has his love! It is not he, it is his weakness that she loves! And I, I am helpless!—Helpless? No! Did I not hear Kiyokime, the goddess of hate? And did she not say revenge? And I a woman? Then to the work, and let it be as swift as the necessities may allow. I will have revenge!”

However, it was less easy for Nehachibana to execute than to resolve. She was now entirely cut off from any association whatever with her rival, and found it difficult even to satisfy her curiosity. This unpleasant situation had been brought about more by the foolishness of her mother-in-law than by her own dulness, yet it affected her none the less for that. Heretofore it had been irksome to do service for her rival, which both situation and custom compelled, but now that she had resolved it would have been a pleasure. Still, as difficulties arose her determination increased, and she not only concluded to bide her time but to make certain her victory.

When Takara came into their home Tetsutaisho’s mother was at first so overwhelmed with the honour and so proud of herself that she became not only tyrannical to her former household but somewhat insufferable to the newcomer. The new acquisition had insisted upon bringing all of her own servants, and had little need and less desire for the assistance of her gallant’s mother or other relations: that was something she had not bargained for, and she was of a mind not to tolerate meddlesome interference. Consequently, Takara had not been there many months before she had appropriated to her own exclusive use that portion of the premises which suited her most.

Tetsutaisho personally concerned himself in these sometimes threatening matters no further than to give his consent to anything that anybody might propose; and as his mother took the ground that it was her right, and as Nehachibana had nothing to ask, the proposals were always on the side of Takara and the victory in her favour. While Tetsutaisho did not mean to be irreverent he did love a plucky battle and was inclined to the belief that to the winner belongs the spoils. That, probably as much as a careless indifference, prompted him to give the ladies of the house a free hand in its management, and always to absent himself at the first sign of a disturbance.

It was, possibly, at one of these bothersome times that Tetsutaisho stole out and unconsciously found his way to the council chamber. He had gone away in this manner before, but seldom got so far as the hall of state. Sometimes he loafed at headquarters or called upon Maido. More often he spent the hour with Ikamon, who was now deeply engrossed with adjusting local affairs so as to meet the requirements of foreign interference, but on this occasion a higher purpose seemed to control him, and for the first time he voiced his sentiment in unmistakable terms.

Unconsciously, perhaps, but none the less certain, the hated stranger had peeped into the treasure box, and so infused a commercial and diplomatic awakening as to lay the foundation for nothing less than the rehabilitation of a long lost empire. It was the dawn of a new era, and no one more than Ikamon interpreted correctly the scope and consequence of so sudden a contact with Christian civilization. As yet the shogunate had not been openly accused of collusion with the foreigners; still whisperings to that effect had been heard, as coming from Kyoto; and the prime minister, no more to be outdone at home than to be defeated from abroad, began to encourage an increase in the army and to advise Tetsutaisho accordingly.

Ikamon was, also, not slow to grasp at the importance of improved methods and had strongly urged Tetsutaisho to bestir himself in adopting and applying more effective instruments, but the latter was rather inclined to the belief that there was not so much to be gained by radical changes: that the disorganisation attendant upon the introduction of new measures more than offset the benefits derived. He reasoned that the samurai were already trained and fully equipped. He knew they were brave to a man, and loyal.

“What more,” said he, “would you have? Would you see cowardice supplant courage, and the black powder of a foe substituted for the ringing steel of our forefathers? These men are invincible, and Tetsutaisho is a general. Give me the opportunity, the occasion, and I will convince you.”

As he spoke his voice rang with the pride of ages, and the council halls echoed and re-echoed with applause. Even Ikamon was for the moment swept away with enthusiasm, as the vigorous man swung his great arms and shouted the glory of the nation’s defenders. It was not so much a want of understanding that made Tetsutaisho slow to feel the necessity of change, but it was more the red blood coursing through his veins which gave him an unbounded faith in the loyal, faithful, worshipping army at his command. He believed in their superiority and felt them worthy of their country’s confidence, and as he retired from the chamber and walked out into the park his step livened with pride and his whole being quickened with a rising confidence in himself and a growing contentment with the world. He thought of his home and of the love that Takara had lain at his feet; of the faithful, patient consideration of Nehachibana, his lawful wife and worthy helpmeet; of his mother, and how she fretted and worried and fussed as opportunities came and her station advanced; then suddenly he came upon Kinsan and all this vanished from his memory as if a thing of yesterday.

She was with her father, who stood off some distance turning a tiny stream of water into the garden, which showed the ravages of a long dry spell. It was Choyo, the ninth day of the ninth month, and there had been no rain for more than a moon past. Kinsan sat in the shade of a spreading oak, at one corner of the garden near where the roadway passed, and grouped about her were a number of children whose wide eyes sparkled with interest as she repeated to them a poem well suited to the occasion.

It was a favourite selection from Onokomachi, the blind poetess, who ever prayed for rain. The words were familiar to Tetsutaisho and he, too, stopped at the border and listened. Kinsan’s voice rang tender and sweet, though there seemed a pathos which touched him and caused a deeper interest. Had he neglected her? Was she now pleading for that which he had so long sought? His memory went out to her, and he determined again to try.