ROM the insinuations and threats of the Lady Evening Glory it might seem as if Wistaria’s lover were in imminent danger, and that the Catzu family might be expected to hasten instantly to cast him out from their province or have him imprisoned as a trespasser and impostor. But Japanese craft is more subtle. Besides, the right of judgment lay in the hands of the father of Wistaria, who was her natural and legal guardian. It was necessary, therefore, that the young man should, for the time being, gather no suspicion of their discovery. Consequently the Catzu family redoubled their expressions of good-will and friendship for their guest, while the only one who could have warned him was placed where she was helpless to do so.

With excessive sweetness, the Lady Evening Glory informed the courtier that she had heard such good reports of him from her honorable husband that she had risen prematurely from her bed of sickness in order to greet him and assure him of her solicitation for his comfort and pleasure during his stay in Catzu.

All these marks of friendship and compliment from the honorable lady of the house, besides the increased cordiality of the Lord of Catzu, would have been very delightful to the lover, but for the fact that almost coincident with the return to health of her aunt it was announced that the Lady Wistaria was unable to leave her apartments because of a sudden illness. The lover, therefore, in an agony of apprehension for the health of his mistress, had no heart or ears for the words of compliment pressed upon him by her family.

He spent his time roving restlessly about the grounds of the palace in the neighborhood of Wistaria’s casement, but the blinds were drawn tightly, morning, noon, and night, and there was only the memory of the girl’s exquisite face at the window to torture the lover.

The arrival of Shimadzu, the father of the Lady Wistaria, created no stir in the Catzu palace. He came silently at night. If any of the servants or members of the household knew of his presence they were dumb concerning the matter. The lover, consequently, was wholly unaware of his coming.

Shimadzu was closeted for some hours with his sister and brother-in-law. The Lady Evening Glory was bitter against her niece. Not merely the fact of the indelicate and unconventional manner of the courtship, nor even the fact that the lover was a member of their rival clan, and through his residence among them must have acquired information concerning their province which would be of value to his prince—not these things infuriated her so much as the thought that her son, the pride and joy of her life, the heir of Catzu, had been led by this stranger into an undertaking both perilous and shameful, the outcome of which was most uncertain.

The Lord of Catzu was milder and more lenient towards the guilty parties, possibly realizing in his inmost soul a measure of the responsibility. He endeavored to palliate their offence.

As for Shimadzu himself, he had not one word to say. He listened to the separate speeches of his sister and brother-in-law, and when they had concluded he simply requested that his daughter be ordered into his presence at once.

Wild-eyed and trembling, Wistaria was brought in. Gone from her face, pale and drawn with the intensity of her sufferings, was all the sun. During the three days preceding the arrival of her father she had been locked up alone in an interior room of the palace. No one had approached save her august aunt, who brought food with her own hands, and whose absolute silence inspired her with a great dread. She would speak no word, or even deign to look at the unhappy girl. Wistaria, rendered frantic by her fears for her lover, had ofttimes thrown herself at her aunt’s feet, piteously beseeching that she would enlighten her as to the fate of her lover. But the Lady Evening Glory would shake her skirts icily and contemptuously from her grasp, to retire without a word of response.

Now Wistaria prostrated herself before the parent who had always inspired her with such incomprehensible fear. He motioned her to be seated, though he himself remained standing. Mutely, mechanically, she obeyed him.

For a moment there was silence. The deep-set eyes of the father looked out at the young girl, noting the piteous tremble of the hands, the small, bowed head, the down-drooped eyes which dared not meet his own, and all the other evidences of her sufferings. Whatever the thoughts of the father, whether merciful or cruel, his impassive face revealed not his inner feelings. In some strange way this samurai seemed steeled against the pain of the world itself. Suddenly he spoke, his hollow voice smiting with a shock the frail, highly strung girl.

“My daughter, had you a mother to love and guide you, you would not now be unhappy.”

He paused to note the effect of his strange words—strange because of the lack of emotion and sympathy that should have accompanied them. Wistaria raised her head painfully, but she did not speak.

“Therefore,” continued her father, “I wish to inform you that it is because of an enemy that you are now motherless, and therefore misguided.”

“An enemy?” repeated Wistaria, dully.

“And it is to take my revenge upon this enemy that I am now about to impose a certain duty upon you which may at first seem repugnant. Before I do so, however, I wish to remind you that you come of a proud and heroic race, my daughter, no member of which has ever faltered in his duty. I would therefore, my daughter, much rather see you strong and fearless than weak and trembling, as you now appear.”

Raising herself bravely, with a superhuman effort the girl grasped at her strength of will.

“My weakness, honorable father, is but physical. Speak your august will with me,” she said.

“That is well,” returned the samurai, briefly. “I have a few questions first of all to put to you. I need not say that I expect truthful answers, and will tolerate no prevarication.”

The girl bowed her head with a certain dignity of submissiveness.

“Of what rank is your lover?”

Wistaria trembled.

“I do not know,” she replied, in a low voice.

“He has not mentioned his rank to you?”

“Only that he was of honorably insignificant rank.”

“Humph! Well, that is but a natural reply. What is his appearance?”

For a brief moment a gleam of strange pride came over her face. She pressed her little hands passionately together.

“Oh, my father, he is honorably noble, I do assure you. He possesses—”

“I did not ask for a rhapsody upon his merits,” interrupted the samurai, coldly. “However, I am satisfied as to his rank.”

A tear fell softly upon her little hand. Feeling, rather than seeing, her father’s irritation, she brushed it away impatiently, trying vainly to appear brave.

“Now,” resumed Shimadzu, half to himself, “if he is of noble rank it follows that he is close to the Mori family. Very good.”

He turned to his daughter.

“He is a good Imperialist?”

“He is honorably loyal,” she replied.

“Loyal to his prince, you mean, or his party?”

“Surely to both. He could not be otherwise. He is a brave and true gentleman, my father.”

“Very well, I have no more questions to ask you. I shall now outline to you the duty I have prepared for you. You are ready to obey my will?”

“In all things, honored parent.”

“That is well. I commend you for your filial words. First of all, I desire all possible information concerning the young heir of Mori.”

“But—” she faltered, “how is it possible for me—?”

“Your lover,” said her father, quickly, “is a Mori courtier. There is no doubt he will give you all the information I require.”

“Oh, then, my father,” she cried, clasping her hands together, “you will be lenient towards him, will you not? You will permit him to see me?”

“I have nothing against your lover,” said her father, with slight irritation.

“Oh, father!” In a moment her face was aglow with hope and happiness.

“I advise you to listen to me,” he rejoined, coldly.

“Speak! speak, august father! I will follow your commands faithfully, joyfully.”

“I wish to know the nature of this prince, his habits, his mode of life, and the esteem in which he is held by his people. Once you have learned these facts, you must secure for me specific details concerning his political schemes against the Shogun.”

Gradually Wistaria had risen to her feet. She had grown strangely pale. Her eyes were frightened and apprehensive.

“You desire,” she repeated, slowly, as though she scarce comprehended the words—“you desire to know the secrets of—of his honorable party?”

“Exactly.”

“You desire,” she began to repeat, “to know the secrets—”

“More than that.”

“More. You—you—my father, you would not injure his—his party?”

“Your apprehension, my lady, for a hostile party, is strange for one of your training. Are you, then, turned Imperialist?”

“No. I have no fear for myself, my lord. But he—he—You must understand, my lord, he believes in—loves his honorable party—whether right or wrong. I would not injure it because of his sake.”

“I have had enough of this weakness, my daughter, and you must admit I have been patient. To relieve your mind, however, of one thing, I will inform you that I have no designs against either this young man or his party.”

“Oh, you lift from my heart, my honored parent, a weight too heavy for me to bear.”

“Pugh! It seems you are determined not to listen to my orders.”

“Speak at once. I will not again interrupt you.”

“Very good. While I have said I have nothing against this Imperialist party, I am, nevertheless, desirous of knowing all their plans and secrets. It will be your duty, therefore, to ascertain these for me. Do not interrupt—” as she made as if to speak. “You would say your lover is too loyal to betray his party secrets, even to you. Then you will use your wit to compel him to do so.”

“I—I will do so,” she replied, drearily.

“That is not all. I wish you to force your lover into betraying some scheme or intrigue of his prince which would, if brought to the attention of the Shogun, implicate him criminally. Now I have arrived at my chief desire—in other words, I wish to accomplish the ruin—the death of the Prince of Mori.”

Wistaria’s head swam in vertigo. She scarce could think or feel. Only one horrible thought hammered itself into her mind. By the cajolery and arts of a false woman she was to assist in the betrayal of the prince to whom her lover had sworn allegiance. It was revolting, cruel, horrible. The mere thought of it made her head whirl in dizziness.

When she attempted to speak, her words escaped her slowly in gasps.

“I can—not—do—that!”

A terrible expression came into her father’s face.

“You dare defy my authority?” he shouted.

“Oh, my father, put upon me any other task but this. It is base, cruel, cruel. And I—I am only a weak woman—”

“That is true. Do not, then, I advise you, attempt to pit your weakness against my strength. If you are so lacking in all those qualities admirable in a woman and a daughter of a noble race, I shall take means to force you to do your duty.”

A sudden wave of courage swept over her. She ceased to tremble, though the samurai was fierce and menacing. There sprang into her eyes a light of defiance.

“You have reminded me, my father, that I come of a race of proud and heroic men. Then let me tell you that I, too, am conscious of possessing the intrepid blood of my ancestors, and that you can force me to do nothing against my will.”

As she spoke she had backed slowly across the room, away from her father, as though retreating from a blow. Now she stood against the wall, her arms spread out on either side, the hands clutching the partition.

“In ten minutes I shall show you, my lady,” said her father, between angry, clenched teeth, “the fate of one who dares defy her honorable parent.”

“Do so,” was her astonishing response. “Kill me, break all my honorable bones, my lord. We all must suffer and die!”

“You are too quick to choose your method of punishment, my lady. I have a more subtle means of teaching you the duty of a child to its parent. Do not imagine that I shall kill your body. It is your mind and heart I shall crush.”

“What do you mean, my lord?”

“You will understand, my lady, when your lover is paying with his life for—”

“Oh no, no, no, no!” she cried, wildly, her hands groping through blinding emotion as though she would push away from her some horror too awful for utterance. “No, no, no!”

She fell down at her father’s feet, burying her face in the folds of his hakama, her hands clutched about it frantically. “Oh, my father—no, no, no!”

She could say no more.

“You will obey my commands?” inquired the father, bending over her.

“Yes, yes—oh, my lord—anything on earth you may command. Only spare him, I beseech you, I pray to you, as I would to a god!” She fell to moaning and crying with the weakness of hysteria, no longer brave, defiant.

He raised her not ungently. Holding her hands firmly, he looked sternly into her face.

“Listen to me, my daughter. The task may seem to you horrible. It should not be so. It is a righteous, holy cause you serve. I have sworn to the dead, pledged myself, to encompass a certain vengeance, which must not escape me now. I have lived for no other purpose. If I have seemed a cold, unfeeling father, stern, unsympathetic, and unloving, it is because I have a mission in life greater than that of a father. It is you who must help me to attain this ambition. Vengeance—honest, righteous vengeance—for a wrong done me and mine is a holy cause. No Japanese girl can regard it otherwise. The Prince of Mori is our bitter enemy. We must accomplish his undoing—his death!”

“Yes, yes,” she said, between her chattering teeth; “and you will not harm him?”

“I repeat I have nothing against this man. It is his prince whose proud spirit I will break! Kill!”

“Yes, yes—only his prince—the old prince. You wish me to kill him? Yes, I will do so.”

“No; it is the young prince who must die—the son of the Prince of Mori. Do you not understand that I accomplish a more complete revenge by compassing the death of him who is the salt of his life?”

“Yes, yes; I see it clear. I must kill the innocent. Ah-h! Oh, it is cruel, cruel!”

She was weeping brokenly, piteously at his feet again, her physical strength quite gone.

The samurai leaned over her.

“Soon, my daughter, you will have regained your strength and will. From your attitude of a little while ago I am made aware that you are possessed of such qualities as might impel you to attempt to betray your father. Be assured that you shall be given no opportunity for doing so. For your own good I would advise you to lay the honorable force of repression upon your disturbed spirits, and bring yourself to do that which I have set for you with completeness and swiftness. In this way you will render a service to your father and family, and save the life of this man you love.”