N the joy and sunshine of Wistaria’s nature, which would have driven sadness from the soul of a hermit, Keiki’s melancholy was evanescent. Her lover’s fears at the mere possibility of their being forced apart were soon dissipated by her.

A week passed—sped like so many minutes. The pale green of the spring grass was deepening in hue and the trees were in leaf. The lovers lingered in the paths that led down to the little boat-house, whence each day they sailed slowly down the river to the rock island. There in the lazy, drifting boat, the drowsy Lord of Catzu dosed back against his padded seat, while the lovers looked into each other’s eyes, or furtively pressed each other’s hands.

Meanwhile their short hours of happiness were being slowly ticked off by the god of love, at whose shrine they had offered the whole wealth of their hearts. The days of their joy were numbered. That strange honey of bliss they sipped so greedily was soon to be snatched from their lips.

The Lady Evening Glory was recovering slowly from her indisposition. Because the lady herself had contracted a most wilful and romantic marriage, she was perhaps the more suspicious of the culpability of others. She trusted neither youth nor maid, but Wistaria bore the weight of her suspicions.

While gossip and idle chatter had stolen into the lady’s chamber concerning the charms and grace of their whilom guest, Wistaria’s almost extravagant solicitude for her set my lady at first to thinking, and then to acting.

The Lady Evening Glory was no believer in the worship of the sun. Nevertheless, some garrulous maid having carried to her the innocent remark of her niece that she enjoyed viewing the rising of the sun, a few mornings later found the Lady Evening Glory not only arising before the sun, but wending her way through the silent corridors of the palace until she was before the chamber of the Lady Wistaria. Without so much as a tap for admission, she softly pushed aside the sliding shoji.

With the keenest of lover’s ears. Wistaria heard the faint shir-r-r made by the sliding doors. In the same instant down went her own shutter. So when the Lady Evening Glory entered the chamber she found her niece sitting on the floor, her back set stiffly against her casement shutter, and a deep rosy coloring all over her face. Her guilty eyes fell before the cold glare of her august aunt.

The next thing the Lady Evening Glory’s sharp eyes fell upon were the flowers. They lay in a great, tumbled mass all about the Lady Wistaria. There was no mistaking the meaning of those tell-tale blossoms. The Lady Evening Glory’s lips became a thin, pursed line.

“The flowers? Whence came they?”

“From the honorable garden,” answered Wistaria, trembling.

“There is no tree in all the garden with blossoms in full bloom. They are only commencing to bud, and will not blossom before the first of April.”

To this undeniable fact Wistaria made no response.

“Answer when thou art spoken to,” prompted her aunt, sharply.

“My lady—I do not know what to say.”

“Then you leave me to my own conjectures. You have a lover.”

“Oh no, indeed!”

“What! Flowers fresh with the morning dew in your chamber, and you with your hair unbound! Pray when did it become an honorable fashion for ladies of our rank to venture out to purchase flowers before sunrise—and in such scanty attire?”

“My aunt, you are killing me.”

“Your health appears to me to be far from feeble.”

“I am innocent of any wrong,” said Wistaria, with a flash of spirit.

“Then you will not object to inform me who presented you with these flowers?”

“An honorable gentleman,” said Wistaria.

“Indeed! And what is this honorable gentleman’s name, may I ask?”

Wistaria hesitated. Then a sudden idea came to her. She smiled mysteriously.

“But I do not know his name,” she said, which was quite true, as she was unaware of her lover’s true name.

“You do not know the name of your lover!” cried her aunt, incredulously.

“Indeed, I wish I did.”

“Yet you accept his gift! You are entirely without shame, girl!”

“Oh, lady! the flowers were so beautiful I could not resist them.”

“Beautiful!” shrieked her aunt. “And because flowers are beautiful, is that an excuse for accepting the love of some impudent adventurer?”

“Accepting the love!” repeated Wistaria, faltering.

“Yes, indeed, and you need not pretend ignorance of my words. They are quite clear to you, I have no doubt.”

“But—”

“You are well aware that by accepting the flowers you also accept his despicable love, and practically betroth yourself to this fellow. He shall be flogged for his impertinence.”

“Flogged!” cried Wistaria, becoming very pale.

“Flogged, I repeat,” said her aunt, coldly.

Wistaria shivered with apprehension. She had not until now grasped the real seriousness of her position.

“Your father,” continued the Lady Evening Glory, “shall be sent for this day. We shall see what those in authority over you think of your conduct.”

The aunt had but to mention the father to fill Wistaria with fear. She sprang to her feet and stood trembling among the scattered blossoms.

“I am guilty of no wrong, I do assure you, my lady aunt. But I arose to enjoy the sun’s awakening, and—and I did find these honorable flowers on my sill, and indeed they spoke to me of—of the coming summer, and so many things, dear aunt, that I was fain to take them in.”

“Then do, pray, my little dove, inform me what you know concerning this presumptuous fellow who placed them on your sill.”

“Oh, my lady, he is indeed honorably noble.”

“Indeed!”

“I do assure you. He is—” she broke off, painfully debating in her mind the wisdom of confessing the truth to her aunt.

“He is—?” repeated her aunt.

“Our own august guest.”

“Ah—ho! Then, if that is so, you spoke a lie just a moment since when you said you did not know your lover’s name.”

Wistaria attempted to speak, but broke off, faltering and stammering piteously.

“May I inquire, then,” continued her aunt, relentlessly, “whether you are unacquainted with the honorable name of our august guest?”

“Oh, my lady, I do believe that—that he assumed another—only—just for the innocent romance of wooing me under an assumed title.”

“So! And pray how comes it, then, that my son’s honorable guest should also happen to be your lover? If in order to woo you he came hither under an assumed name, then it would seem that you had some previous acquaintance with him?”

“He followed our cortege from Yedo, madame,” confessed the unhappy girl.

“What! You do not mean to tell me that he is that insolent Mori courtier of whom I heard only after my arrival home?”

Wistaria pressed her hands tightly together. She seemed overcome. Then suddenly she raised her head with almost defiant bravery.

“He is of the Mori clan, madame,” she said.

“The Mori clan!” The lady’s voice rose shrilly. “How came he, then, to enter our grounds?”

“He came, my lady, by the south river, where there is a break in the wall.”

“But how could he know this? Answer me that at once.”

“I—”

“Will you deign to inform me whether you condescended so far as to answer the love-letters of this young man, for I have no doubt he favored you with many?”

“I wrote only one insignificant reply,” said Wistaria.

“And what, pray, did you say in this reply?”.

“I implored him to follow us no farther. I besought him to give up the impossible exploit of entering our grounds, and, knowing what would be his fate if he attempted to do so, I also informed him that if he must indeed enter, to do so by way of the south river, that a portion of our grounds ran down to this honorable river and was unprotected by the walls, which otherwise surrounded us on all sides.”

“So it seems that you have betrayed to our enemy the weakness of our condition?”

“Not an enemy, lady! He is not, indeed.”

“And may I ask how your redoubtable lover, having gained entrance to our grounds, also contrived to wedge his way into the palace and become a guest of our hospitality?”

“Toro—” faltered Wistaria.

Her aunt’s face flamed.

“Toro, he discovered him the first morning, and—and—they became friends at once.”

“My son!”

“Oh yes, madame, and on my two knees, I am prepared to beg you to show him mercy.”

“Keep your knees, my young lady, to beg mercy for yourself. You may have need of it ere long,” said her aunt, with chilling irony.