Having sooner made without any success several attempts at communicating with Yodogima, this first missive of an avowed friend—whom he believed to be turned somewhat practical and not at all sentimental—quite overcame Ieyasu, wholly upsetting the meager plans that he had evolved for the at least temporary subversion of a prospective antagonist and the immediate recovery of his truly dearer than ever sweetheart. Conscious of the pitfalls with which she must be surrounded, yet he could not believe her untrue: realizing the dangerous ground upon which he must tread, still he would not for that refrain from attempting a personal visit; Yodogima had advised him: she, if recovered at all, must be released by some subtler art than war—Hideyoshi held it in his power to crush him, and was he any less a diplomat?

Hitherto Ieyasu had held peace to be well gained at any price, but now that love possessed him, burned and coaled deep into the heart-chords, he had given up the future, sold his soul for the loan of a force with which to fight reasonably a single combat. Recalling the occasion, he would have thrust Hideyoshi through at the cost of a bushido: remembering Katsutoya’s warning, the barest conception of a laggard wit startled him into the first really energizing confession that he had ever made:

“I am unworthy of her.”

Everywhere around, men with less opportunity were rising as if metalled to accomplish anything. He, too, must do something to prove himself worth the confidence of a true love—why not trust Esyo? Designing to poison him against Yodogima, she had paved the way only to a more questionable undertaking—that of betrayal. Ieyasu answered the message kindly, inclosing therewith another to Yodogima (also intercepted), informing her of his intentions and asking that she make ready.

Upon the arrival of the letter, Yodogima said:

“I am going to confide in you, Esyo; you are a sister—next to me—and have never proven false: I just must have the confidence of someone; it is killing me, this terrible suspense. Will you listen, dear?”

Esyo nestled close to Yodogima’s side, and looking submissively into her face, begged:

“Let us trust each other, Yodogima; otherwise how can we bear the awful burden of this horrid place?”

“Ieyasu is coming; he has arranged it, and I am going away from here, to be his wife, never to part again.”

“How nice that will be—but the castle! Had you forgotten that?”