Part 45

Therefore the exalted Princess Sado-ko, the daughter of the sun-god, as she was called by all loyal Japanese, fell to work upon the homely employment of rolling up a mattress bed, beating the little rocking pillow, folding the quilts and the netting. Suddenly she sat down breathlessly among the simple paraphernalia which constituted Masago’s bed. She had forgotten where the maid Masago had told her the clothes were kept! The little thought perplexed and troubled the Princess Sado-ko.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER XVIII

A MOTHER BLIND

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER XVIII

A MOTHER BLIND

WHILE the Princess Sado-ko was sitting ruefully among the folded bed things, and pondering upon the weighty question of their disposal, Kwacho and Ohano arrived home in jinrikishas. The former hastened to the kitchen for a cup of tea before departing on a mission to Tokyo, while Ohano hurried up the stairs to her daughter. Ohano was so eager to pour out recent confidences to her daughter, that she labored at every step in her ascent.

When she entered Masago’s room without knocking, as was her custom, she was astonished at the sudden start the girl gave. However, Ohano had such a story to pour out that she did not pause, but said in almost one breath:—

“Masago, I have the greatest news for you—it will make you the happiest of maidens in Kamakura—What! your bedclothes not put away yet? Well—but I must tell you all that happened, at once.”

She broke off breathlessly, her eyes upon the young girl’s face. Something unfamiliar and strange about it stopped her flying tongue. She stared at her in stupefied perplexity, her mouth wide open.

Sado-ko averted her face. With her head slightly turned, she stood in a listening attitude, as though waiting for Ohano to proceed.

“How strangely you looked at me just now!” gasped Ohano, and, leaning over, pulled her sleeve. “Masago! You have not spoken to me yet!”

“I have not had the chance,” said Sado-ko, in a stifled voice.

“Why—your voice is strange! What has happened, daughter?”

Sado-ko attempted to recover her composure, fighting against a sense of weakness that overpowered her at the thought that Ohano would penetrate the disguise. What mother would not have done so? she thought with fear. With some bravado she turned and faced Ohano.

“Nothing is the matter,” she declared. “You—you said you had some news to tell me, mother.” She bit her lip at the last word, as the thought came to her that this woman might not be the mother. The words of Ohano reassured her.

“Well, come and sit here,” she said. “I have much to tell.”

When Sado-ko was seated at her side with averted face, the words of the mother became piteous.

“Your mother always was so stupid,” said poor Ohano, “but, Masago, you really are much changed since your return from school. Yet truly—why, I never noticed it before.” She stopped as though to give the girl a chance to speak, but the latter remained silent.

“Now let me see,” said Ohano, “I will tell you from the first of all that happened. I know, Masago, you will be happy at my news. You see, we waited all the day and all the night for him to come and—”

“For him?” said Sado-ko, in a low voice.

“Yes—for Junzo.”

“Junzo!” She turned toward Ohano with a sudden swiftness. Her eyes were dilated with trembling excitement, “Yes, yes—pray speak on.”

Pausing, Ohano looked in astonishment at the girl’s flushing face.

“Ah, now I know why you seem changed, Masago,” she said finally. “It was thinking all night long upon your wedding. Well, who could blame a maiden for feeling and for acting somewhat—changed?”

“But tell me,” said the girl, pleadingly, “of—of Junzo. Why do you not proceed?”

“Well, we waited for him all the day, Masago, and all the—”