The final preparations for the gorgeous procession progressed without interruption all of the next day, notwithstanding a light rain fell almost incessantly, and Shibusawa, at least, regretted though encouraged a speedy going. He must on the very eve of Kinsan’s discovery part with what seemed to be the last hope of ever realising his life’s ambition. And she the property of his bitterest enemy! Sometimes it seemed more than he could bear; but a recurring sense of the inevitable always stayed the doing of some rash thing, and long before the evening had passed friends were calling to bid the family good-bye.

As night came on, however, the rain ceased, and the weather began to clear under a stiff breeze blowing from the eastward. It was a chill October night, the leaves were falling, and the white clouds sped low in the sky. The sun had fringed the western horizon with a snowy-fleeced red, and Shibusawa stepped to the outer edge of his veranda to take a parting glimpse of the golden scene spread over the hills above. He could not see the site of the hidden cave, but his eyes moistened; he turned away and looked toward the lake below.

There he saw emerging from a cluster of bushes Okyo, tugging along a coy maiden, whose dress and appearance signified that she did not belong to the castle; yet he observed her neat and modest appearance; also that Okyo endeavoured with difficulty to induce her to approach. Shibusawa drew back and waited their coming with amusement, if not interest.

Presently they came near, and after much consultation and persuasion on Okyo’s part they entered the house and groped their way hand in hand—he pulling and she shying—into Shibusawa’s presence. Okyo saluted his master, she courtesied; between them they stammered an explanation, and the host begged forgiveness for the unseemly confusion of identities.

“And this is Shiyoganai, the pretty young girl whom we rescued while guests at the Look-See tea house. Let us see, that is several years ago, and I am afraid our claim is now more than forfeited. However, I suppose the double is fancied and the bargain might be renewed,” said the young prince, in a manner intended to place them at ease, and save the direct embarrassment of a possible recognition.

The unexpected rather upset Okyo, and a feeling somewhat akin to fright suddenly came over him. He said nothing; his voice failed him, and hanging his head he partly turned and whispered:

“You tell it, Shiyoganai; I can’t.”

She blushed deeply, and told the story of how Okyo had again met her after his venture upon the sea and with his meagre assistance saved her from being sold a second time, possibly into something worse than slavery. She added with much hesitation that they had dearly loved each other for a long time, and asked him to be so kind as to let Okyo come back sometime to see her.

“Tell him that I want to marry you,” interposed her would-be suitor, boldly.

“And are you both quite sure you wish to take so serious a step?”

“Oh, yes, we are,” said they in chorus, scarcely the words left his lips.

“Then you shall marry and welcome, for I shall want you to remain here with the keeper until I return.”

Shibusawa tendered Okyo the funds necessary to make settlement with her parents and bade them expedite the marriage, as he must move early on the morrow and should certainly expect them to be punctually on hand. Nor did they waste time, but hurriedly saluted and were not seen again until late the next morning, when Shiyoganai came trudging in, was forgiven and seemed happy.

The daimyo’s procession had started to move betimes, and was well on the way before the streets had quieted down for the midday. The parade had been so well noised about that the roads were everywhere lined with the interested and the curious. Flags and bunting were displayed and many shops had been closed in honour of the event. By common consent the occasion had been turned into a general holiday in honour of the man whose sympathy had endeared him to both prince and pauper alike; and as the pageant moved along there was presented to view a strikingly imposing scene.

Over forty thousand men were in line, and among them many dignitaries, who had been invited and who chanced to join as a mark of respect and an act of loyalty. The swordsmen, under the command of Beppu, a trusted officer of the daimyo’s forces, marched in the lead; after these came the spearsmen; then the fieldsmen; and then the courtiers, retainers, members of the household, servants, criers, and hangers-on. Groups of knightly heralds, in costumes of white and gold, carried high, massive plumes of green and brown; there were couriers with flaming banners, gorgeous floats, flags, streamers, and bunting; huge grotesque figures and other monstrosities wabbled along on human backs, while gilded poles and clever symbols lined the imposing column. Gaudy uniforms and costly dress told of the wealth and pomp that followed in the splendid train, and the great chairs of state bespoke Maido’s power and the splendour of his suite. On the door at either side of these rich palanquins shone the family crest, worked into the beautiful lacquer with finely threaded gold and silver, in the design of five circles around ten short rays representing sword punctures. The daimyo’s chair came first in line, then Shibusawa’s. After all the rest there followed long trains laden with baggage and paraphernalia belonging to the household and retainers of the family.

The procession moved in double file along the old Tokaido, the deep-worn and hard-packed highway with its tall cedars and interlocking branches on either side. Here they travelled in solemn grandeur as their ancestors of a thousand years had done, and Maido marvelled at the beauty of the ceremony and thought with pride of the splendour of his retinue. His army was counted legion and his income over a million koku,[18] while the doors of nobility were open to him and royalty pleased with his friendship. He had in effect just closed a brilliant career, and his own son about to succeed him he believed capable of winning new laurels—why should he not swell with satisfaction as he rode along beneath the shade of these giants of the forest?

Shibusawa, on the other hand, had begun to take a deeper hold on life. He had seen the world, and felt keenly the narrow pride which the lords and rulers of his land boasted.

He knew their tiny empire to be a beauteous land, and he also knew that it had been discovered; that there were other people from whom the good things of the earth could not be kept. He also realised that they themselves had much to profit by the larger intercourse certainly to come, and that they, too, with all their excellence were far from being perfect in the scale of social organisation. He had seen sufficient of life and imbibed enough of truth to understand that so long as inequality exists between men just so long will the state remain flexible; and he realised that such a government must necessarily adapt itself to natural conditions. He had looked out into the world and there beheld the glory of man, not men; and he now believed in man’s regeneration as born of progression.

They tramped on day after day in their only fashion, and when they finally did arrive at their own gate Shibusawa sprang from his chair and amid the shouts of the men ran on at double the speed. For this he was held in high esteem and accounted one of their kind, though some of the dignitaries may have been a little surprised at the young prince’s democracy. While Maido, out of deference to his station, said nothing, at least he really rejoiced, for he loved a good sprinter and had actually winked at more than one wrestling match in his day.

“I would get out and go you a bout myself, were it not for shocking the household keeper’s sensibilities,” said he to his son, quietly, as the latter was about to leave his chair for the coveted run through the woods and over the hills.

Shibusawa’s fleetness brought him, before many hours had passed, to the selfsame gate behind which most of his boyhood days had been spent. He drew a deep breath as he entered, and while walking along the old winding road to the main front he said to himself:

“What is sweeter and better than the environment of early home?”

He immediately, upon entering, set himself to work directing a few added touches that would please and encourage his father’s home-coming. Such trifling attentions he accounted a great pleasure, and as he grew older in appreciation of a parent’s tenderness he lost no opportunity to show his affectionate esteem. Nor did he misplace even one, for Maido in his way repaid the trouble many fold.

When they had arrived at Kanazawa, the season had so far advanced that they at once settled down for the winter. Though disappointed in not being able to visit other parts of the prefecture, they took much satisfaction in the quiet of their country house, and Magokoro (the real or red heart, or maple leaves) smiled sweetly and soon the snow fell beautifully. They did not lack for plenty to do and see, and when once settled there was much company, for Maido had been gone for a long time and his neighbours were not only glad at having seen him return, but some of the mikado’s court, not far distant, were interested in knowing the reason.

Nor was Takara disinterested, though she did not call. And a certain prince who had once upon a time been deeply in love with her and who was still quite attentive, manifested more than an interest; he was anxious, and upon Shibusawa’s return he at first took it upon himself to visit Kanazawa rather often. Aside from these personal attractions, the south brewed a storm that was destined to spread until it had claimed the attention of some persons even much farther north than Kanazawa. Thus plenty both of interest and variety engaged Maido, nor would Shibusawa flinch from his part.