IX
JANE HOPES; KISHIMOTO DESPAIRS
When Zura appeared the following morning no reference was made to the events of the night before. She was pale and coldly courteous. In her sharp brightness there was no hint of an olive branch being hid about her to be offered to me or presented to her grandfather when she returned to his house that day, as previously arranged.
Once only did the girl's manner soften, and then neither to Jane nor to me. Outside, from every glint of the sun on the new green of the pines to the joyous call of the white sea birds, was the glad message of spring, and spring in this lovely Island is no mere promise of things to come, but an everlasting fulfilment of the glorious promises made in the hour the great Artist dreamed it.
Zura looked through the window at the sea, gaily breaking its silvered crests against the gray old rocks and, just above, the great patches of rose-pink cherries streaking the blue haze of the mountains. As the girl took in the tender beauty of the scene some memory seemed to touch her. Her eyes filled, her lips trembled; but she quickly recovered herself and soon after made her adieus.
I walked with her to the gate and watched her go down the long flight of steps. Everything about her, from the poise of her head to the swing of her body, courted conflict and prophesied disaster. I felt as if I had snatched a bag of candy from a hungry child.
A week later Kishimoto San came to make the call customary on occasions when any kindness had been done to him or his family. His gratitude for my efforts to make some headway with Zura was very sincere. He supplemented his thanks by a large box of cake. The gift was decorated with a red string and a good-luck emblem and wrapped in a bright yellow cloth. From the atmosphere, all concerned needed not only good luck, but something the color of sunshine; one look into Kishimoto San's face assured me it was neither springtime nor rosetime in the path he was treading.
My visitor was a busy man of many affairs, and I a woman much occupied; but custom said that a ceremonial visit must be just so long, and Kishimoto would rather break his neck once a week than a rule of etiquette once a life-time.