“I am Kinsan, the gardener’s daughter. I came here to see the beautiful moon rise, should it be so kind and I so fortunate. I do not know who you are, but I trust and I believe you will permit me to pass without harm. I have parents who love me, and I know you are of our faith. I trust you, honourable sir, to speak further if you so desire.”

“I thank you,” said he, “for your frank expressions, and I swear by the sword, Amanosakohoko, that I shall endeavour to merit your confidence. May I not spread this robe so that we can sit, and further speak to each other while waiting the moon’s pleasure?”

“You may do so if you like, but I should tell you that it is unsafe unless you have permission from a better authority. There is one who sometimes passes here, and should he discover you I fear his cruelty might be no less severe than my interest is great. If you do not mind a short, steep climb I will lead the way to a secluded spot near by where we can get a still better view and also guard against being seen. I was just going there, and no one will miss me at home until the hour has gone. Shall I proceed?”

“I certainly shall be glad to trust myself to your guidance, and if it is not too hard for you to go there it ought not to be for me.”

“You see,” said Kinsan, as she led the way back across the bridge and began climbing the hill above, “there is no pathway to follow. That is because no one but myself ever goes there, and I take pains not to establish a road and thus provide the means to a discovery of my hidden place.”

After leaving the by-path they scrambled up with some difficulty over the embankment and through a brier patch into the woodland beyond. Hereafter their passage through the scattering trees was quite easy, except the long grass and sloping hill made it necessary for them to choose well their steps, and as they went they chatted with no concern or accident to mar their pleasures or stay the confidence that was so rapidly growing between them. The balmy air, the inviting scenery, the romantic occasion, all inspired those feelings of trust which come of more than understanding and which are never abused.

Once Kinsan slipped a little and threw out her arms to recover her balance. As if by instinct Shibusawa was at her side and caught her hand in his just in time to save a fall; the soft skin told him of her good breeding, and the warm blood of her perfect health. He held it gently, a little longer, perhaps, than necessary to stay her fall, and then he did not drop it nor did she take it away, but as if moved by an unseen power and with feelings sweeter than life itself started on, and Kinsan did not fall or lose her balance again that night.

“Oh, what a grand place it is!” said he, as she led him to a seat on one side looking out over a panorama of woodland and battlement and castle ground and city far away toward the rising moon.

The place to which Kinsan led captive was an old abandoned nook, which had centuries before been used as a sight-seeing retreat by no less a personage than the shogun himself. It lay far up on the hillside in a small level space that rounded out at the head of a miniature gulch, through which ran the rivulet spanned by the bridge where the lovers met. The site, now dry and hard, was once the source of a natural spring, which had long ago disappeared through a tunnel made farther down the declivity. It was an ideal place for a hidden cave, such as it really appeared to be and as Kinsan called it; and the shogun under whose direction it was improved had spared no expense to make it a place of beauty as well as seclusion.

A retaining wall at the back,—in which were constructed wide and comfortable stone seats,—rounded up at both corners and arched over in front, while trees and vines had been so planted here and there as to shade the sun or break the storm, without in any manner obstructing the view. Some of these giant trees still stood, marking the grandeur of a different age. Others had fallen and long ago disappeared, while vines and shrubs had grown and regrown into tangled gnarls of brush and brier. All trace of its once gravelled approach and smooth floor had vanished with age, and no other person now found his way there except by merest chance or a curious reverence.