The rapping on the temple doors was not loud or menacing, but it was insistent, questioning. The Tojin-san drew the fox-woman to the winding staircase which led up the seven stories to the tower above.

Once before Tama had been sent up yonder. Then she had gone willingly, even frantically. Now she made no movement up the stairs. Instead, she turned her back upon them, and faced the Tojin fairly. Upon her face a smile shone luminously as a star. Simply, steadily, she laid her hands in those of the man.

For a moment he held them in his own, his eyes fixed yearningly upon her face, and even while the knocks resounded louder upon the door the clouds cleared from his mind.

Looking into those uplifted, adoring eyes he forgot all else. A sound that was half a sob, half a passionate cry escaped him. He reached out irresistibly and took her into his arms. For the first time his lips hungrily, passionately found her own, and clung in a kiss that over all the years of a lifetime neither he nor she might ever forget. They saw nothing, heard nothing, felt only that close, encompassing embrace that made them one indeed.

Then upon their dream at last broke the lowly calling, almost whispering voice of the one without. They drew apart, though their eyes and hands still clung unconsciously together.

“Sensei. Sensei! Sensei!”

It was the voice of the student, Junzo!

With a low cry, the Tojin was at the doors, wrenching and tearing the great images away with the strength of a veritable giant. At last the doors were reached, and these in turn thrust aside.

There, with their anxious, faithful young faces pale with apprehension in regard to his fate, were his three loyal boys, Junzo, Higo, and Nunuki. They fell literally upon him with tears and shouts of joy. They devoured him with their youthful embraces. Higo clung to one hand, Junzo to the other; and at the back of him Nunuki hovered, seeking to examine the wound upon his neck where the sword of the Daimio’s high officer had pierced. It was healed, so well had the fox-woman cared for it.

Now, step by step, slowly, uncertainly, she crept toward them, white-faced, wild-eyed, every nerve in her thrilling, and reaching out blindly for the arms that had held her, the lips that had clung to her own. But she stopped with her tragic little face clasped on either side with her hands as the joyous voices of the students reached her. They were telling the Tojin of the coming of his friends to Fukui; of the return of the Echizen Prince; of the punishments to be meted out to those who had attacked him; the rewards for those who had defended.

“Even we,” said Higo, with boyish pride, “are to have our due reward, for we have honorably been chosen as the body-guard of the Be-koku-jin (American), who has come to Fukui to minister to the unfortunate one, and to take her, if your excellency is willing, to the capital.”

“The unfortunate one?” repeated the Tojin dully. “To whom do you refer?”

The boys stared at him in round-eyed amazement.

The fox-woman of course! Who else? That unfortunate one to whom the whole heart of Fukui had melted like the snows of her native mountains in the Spring. It was the work of the Tojin himself that had accomplished the miracle; for he had pointed out to them all the absurdity, the wrong of the ancient superstition, which had been kept alive chiefly throughout the years by the hatred of those who were ignorant or fanatic.

Now the Prince himself was convinced a wrong had been committed, and Fukui was taking its cue from him. The friend of the Tojin coming at such a time had also had its effect upon the people; and now the remorseful ones were prepared to atone for the past if that were possible. It was the suggestion of the Be-koku-jin, however, that the girl should be taken out of Fukui.

Her history had created a sensation among her father’s race in Tokio, and there they were eager, anxious to receive her among them. But it was for the Tojin alone to say. The change of heart in Fukui was complete. There was nothing further to fear.

“Even I,” said Nunuki with Spartan-like courage, “am prepared to look upon her. We have learned from the tongue of our own Prince and from the Be-koku-jin that many females of your race have her skin and hair and eye-color. Is it not so, honored teacher?”

But the Tojin-san was silent. His face had turned strangely gray; his arms hung limply by his side. He was staring out before him fixedly as though he saw a vision.