Oyea looked round at the scant necessities with which all her life she had been making both ends meet that he, her husband, should lack no aid within her rendering to help him onward toward the goal she, too, believed him most worthy to hold. Were she to receive now, at the bidding of charm, or the failure of chance, only the bare habiliments of respectable doing? She had forfeited at marriage better opportunity, suffered the finger of scorn more than once, upheld patiently the laws of the land and bowed reverently before the gods of time, and yet no one had awakened within her a light revealing more than earth’s proffered bounty. And if the bitter must be hers, why not as well partake of the sweets?

The very thought for the moment raised her from lowest despondency to highest anticipation. Rising to her feet the world seemed rejuvenated with a thought as glorious as new—Hideyoshi lay stretched upon the matting, snoring away fonder dreams than she had dared conceive.

The cold sweat oozed in beads at her forehead.

Here, contentedly and at her mercy, rested in peace and expectation the one who could at will and without retribution give or take her happiness. Then conscience rushed to the fore, and Oyea stood more pitifully than purpose had made her. Calmly surveying the relaxed features in whose justness had been for a lifetime her only faith, the at last enraged wife unwittingly loosed her would-be grasp in the face of another vision which as incomprehensibly rose to stay her hand.

“Woman!” snarled she, “the curse of her kind, and a vexation always. I’ll don another dress: therein lies my only recompense.”

After a while Hideyoshi arose, and rubbing his eyes, asked doubtfully:

“Did I sleep, Oyea?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then it was a dream: I would that it were real.”

“For that, it may be none the less.”