HE air was balmy, the sky of a cerulean blue, the Dewdrop gardens were sweet with a strange charm and mystery all their own. Pebbles, sand, and stone, were cunningly displayed and mingled to create the illusion of an approach to a giant sea. In themselves the wondrous rocks were so fashioned as to form a landscape wherein neither foliage, trees, nor flowers were necessary. Small, grotesque bridges, made of rare rocks in their natural form, undefaced by hammer or chisel, spanned the miniature rivers, which, snakelike, crept and threaded their way in and out of the rock island. Suddenly appearing caverns yawned wide agape, only to show on closer approach that they were naught but gigantic rocks, hollow within.

Though the gardens were bare of foliage, yet the spot shone out like a jewel set in a magic river. Here was the perfection of art, that art so complete that without the very things of nature which seem necessary to a landscape, the cunning hand of man had fashioned the like out of the hard and jagged substance of stone and rock. And in this the hand of the Creator had aided, since the very rocks which formed this precious and priceless island, the pride and wealth of the Lord of Catzu, had been untouched by the tool of the artisan, for, having been gathered together from all parts of the country, they were planted in their natural form upon this island jewel.

Across the narrow river the shores were green, while beyond the silent surface of the moats the granite walls of the Catzu palace rose to a height, white and stately, tipped with golden towers and peaks that were taller than the cedars and the pines centuries old.

A stir of expectation thrilled the Dewdrop tea-house, and then a clear, shrill voice cried aloud:

“The Lady Wistaria passes into the honorable hall.”

The twenty geishas prostrated themselves at my lady’s feet. Gracefully she returned their courtesy, begging that they would serve her and her august guest, the Lord Tominaga Keiki, with refreshment.

The geishas, at this period in history occupying a high and dignified position in society, expressed their wish to serve their lady for the rest of their lives.

They brought the lovers fresh fruit, shining and luscious, and drink from a well of sweetest and purest water. Humbly apologizing for the honorable meanness of the refreshment, the chief geisha prayed that they would condescend to pardon her, for not even in her dreams had she imagined that the gods would favor her so soon in the season with such august guests.

But the lovers only smiled benevolently upon her, and insisted that never, no, never in all the honorable days of their lives, had they been blessed with more gracious refreshment. Whereat the geisha, with many low, grateful obeisances, retired.

The lovers sighed as in one breath.

“Once more alone,” said Keiki, blissfully reaching over the little table and laying his own hands softly upon those of the girl. “How gracious the gods!”

“Of a truth,” said Wistaria, smiling up at him; “we must repay the gods.”

“We must, indeed. What shall we do? Build a thousand temples to—well, which one?”

“I consider!” quoth Wistaria, thinking very seriously. Then, suddenly, with a little, silvery laugh: “I have it. Let us deify my own august uncle. Is he not the god who befriends us?”

“Not consciously,” said Keiki, “for I doubt not my Lord of Catzu would fume and curse me roundly did he know I took advantage of his honorable disposition to sleep.”

Wistaria laughed softly.

“Now I am quite ready to swear,” she said, “that of late my honorable uncle is perfectly conscious when he sleeps.”

“Pray tell me,” cried Keiki, starting.

The girl nodded merrily.

“Will you tell me, then, how it is possible for one to fall asleep in a small, rocking boat? Could you or I do so, my Lord Keiki?”

“Oh, not you or I; but your honorable uncle is divinely lethargic.”

“Then, my lord, he is but lately afflicted.”

“But I do not understand, then—you cannot mean—Oh no, it could hardly be so!”

“And why not, my lord? To me it seems that even the gods must needs favor you, much more an honorable mortal.”

“Your uncle favor me! It cannot be possible.”

“It is possible. It is so.”

“But he has been acquainted with me only for the past six days.”

“And does it take a year for favor to grow, when love—”

“Awakens in a day—an hour,” finished Keiki, rapturously. “No, I can see how it is possible, but I could not at once realize my good-fortune. Moreover—”

Suddenly he broke off as a melancholy shadow crept across his brow, troubling his eyes. In a sudden depression he bent forward.

“My lord is troubled? Speak to me quickly.”

“Troubled? Yes, that is so,” Keiki sighed.

“Then do, I pray you, speak your trouble to me,” said Wistaria. Immediately she threw herself at his feet, resting her hands upon his knees and raising her face upward to his. Keiki took her face in his hands. He looked deep into her love-lit eyes.

“Yes, I will tell you, little Wistaria,” he said, “though I fear you are already acquainted with my secret.”

“I am not, indeed,” she denied.

“You do not know,” he asked, sadly, “that I am of the Mori clan?”

“Of the Mori clan! And is that all that troubles you, my lord?”

“And is not that sufficiently serious?”

“No.”

“But surely you must be aware of the feud existing between the Mori and Catzu clans?”

“My lord, you and I do not constitute the Mori and Catzu clans.”

“You and I,” he repeated, slowly, “do not constitute the Mori and Catzu clans.” Then, after a silent moment: “Alas, my lady, I fear we do!”

Wistaria snatched her hands quickly from his and arose. Certainly he could not love her, she thought, if he allowed so small a thing as that to distress him.

“If that be so—if that is what you think, my lord, deign to inform me why you have condescended to make suit to me?”

“I was forced to make my suit in secret,” he said, almost bitterly.

“But your love is honest, is it not?”

“Oh, my flower-girl, can you ask that?”

She was contrite in a moment. Once more she was at his feet, kneeling, and pressing both his hands with her little, slender, nervous fingers.

“Nay, then, do not look so sad, my Keiki. It troubles me that you should allow so silly a thing as the differences of our respective clans even for a fraction of a moment to come between us.”

“They cannot truly come between us,” was his fervid reply, “for no power on earth can actually separate us now. Are we not sworn to each other for all time—for all eternity?”

“Then why be so sad? You, who are so brave, cannot fear the dangers that may beset our union.”

“No, no, it is not that. But—I sigh for the tears of others—our honorable ancestors and parents.”

“Then do cease to sigh at once, if you please. Why, it is not such a terrible crime to marry a Mori, surely!”

“No, I hope not,” said Keiki, smiling now.

“No, indeed, for my own honorable uncle committed that same fault.”

“Fault?”

“And I believe that if we were to go to him, and tell him the honorable truth, he would gladly assist us.”

“Not if he knew all,” said Keiki, sadly. “No, he must know nothing yet.”

“Indeed,” said Wistaria, “I did not know the feeling of the Mori was so bitter against us, and I do assure you that in Catzu the prejudice exists not so much against your clan, as against your lord and prince.”

“Alas, that is too true!” answered Keiki, half under his breath.

“Well, a courtier’s loyalty to his Prince need not at all be shaken if he marry the insignificant niece of a rival clan. My own honorable father was of that very clan himself. Know you not that, my lord?”

Keiki groaned suddenly. Whereat the girl placed her hands on his shoulders and forced him to look into her eyes.

“My lord,” she said, “do you know aught of my father’s history?”

Slowly Keiki drew himself up from her clinging hands. Placing one arm close about her, he drew her to his breast.

“Let us no longer talk of these distressful matters.”

“Nay, I have asked you a question. Do, I beseech you, answer me.”

“What can I say?” His voice was very low.

“Tell me of my father—pray tell me,” she implored, almost piteously.

“Of your father? But surely I can tell you nothing that you do not already know?”

“I know naught of my father, save that he was a Choshui samurai, and for some honorable offence was banished by that wicked and cruel Prince of Mori.”

Keiki was silent.

“I have questioned every one about me—my uncle, his samurai, the very servants about the castle—but none will make answer to me, whether from ignorance or by command of those in authority over them, I know not. Do you, then, my lover, answer me.”

“My little flower-girl, I do not know the offence of your honorable father, nor do I know why or wherefore he was sent into exile. I was but a child of five when this penalty came upon him.”

“Then wherefore did you tremble and turn away your eyes when I spoke of my honorable parent?”

“Because I know that injury of some sort was wrought against your honorable parent by my—by the Mori, and since then so implacable an enmity exists between our families that nothing but blood alone can ever wipe away the stain. Think, then, of the wrong I do your father in loving his own daughter!”

“No, no—dear Keiki—it is no wrong, I do assure you. If there be a feud existing between my father and the Mori Prince, truly you and I, who are innocent, cannot be implicated in any way, and, indeed, it is not as if I were about to wed one of the Mori family itself, but—”

“In that case,” he interrupted, quickly, “if I were indeed of this Mori family, what then?”

For a moment the girl recoiled, shrinking backward, and regarded him with frightened, shocked eyes.

“That—would—be—impossible,” she said, and she shivered with apprehension.

“If it were possible?” said the lover, hoarsely.

“It could not be,” she insisted, “for the Mori princes are proud and ill-favored, while you—”

“While I?”

“—You are more beautiful than the sun-god.”

“But you have not answered me. Suppose it were—Prince Keiki, the heir of Mori, who wooed you?”

“I cannot, my lord. Oh, the Prince is otherwise occupied than in wandering with love,” replied Wistaria, smiling at the thought. “Why, he is the head of a wicked party of Imperialists, I have ofttimes heard my uncle declare, and is the most cunning and base fermenter of intrigue against our august Shogun in the whole empire. Indeed, he has no time or inclination for dallying with love.”

“But—if I were indeed he, what then?”

“Why, then—then,” said the girl, slowly rising, and regarding him with shining eyes, “then still I would say, ‘Take me.’ What have we to do with the quarrels of our ancestors, the wrongs or the rights of our honorable parents? You and I are under the sheltering wings of the god of love. We recognize no law of country, lord, or kindred. Let us go into the mountains together and find refuge in a cottage where we can live and love in peace.”

“Oh, thou dear one!” he cried.

“But why suggest such a horrible possibility?” she continued, tremulously. “Thou art not that base and traitorous Prince? Thou art—”

“Thy love! That is all,” he said.