JAPANESE ROOM.
It was nearly evening when he found himself alone with his father in the old house. As the two men stood facing each other, excess of emotion for a while prevented both from giving vent to their feelings in words. Mutto finally put his hand on the other’s shoulder, saying in tones of deep affection: “I owe it to you, my son, that I can again enjoy this beautiful world, the glorious sun, the fruitful earth, and all the bright scenes it shows to us. I owe it to you that I am at peace with myself, and that I can lie down at night thinking of the next day, not with morose gloom as of a dreary task, but with glad content. I owe it to you that death has now no terrors for me, and that I can leave the world without the maddening thought that he who brought destruction upon my lord and benefactor remains in it, glorying in the ruin he wrought, and mocking at the samurai who is unable to bring him to justice. He has perished,—perished by your hands, knowing that it was a son of mine who slew him; and the name of Numa will stand in the samurai annals without a blot on its escutcheon, for I know of no wrong I have committed save this forced omission of my duty. You have given me back my peace of mind, and with it life, health, and happy content such as I never again thought to enjoy.”
The tears sprang to Sennoske’s eyes as his father thus addressed him. The stern, sad man, who had never before unbent himself, and whom in spite of a deep feeling of awe he had always loved with intense affection, now for the first time spoke to him with words of tender emotion. Even the voice was changed; and its sound fell upon him with a soft, tender cadence, as unlike his father’s former tones as the expressions which moved him so deeply differed from the methodical, impressive speeches that he had previously been accustomed to hear. It was like a change from the northern April wind, with its sad, moaning sound, to the pleasant May breeze, stirring grasses and leaves into gentle melody.
“I am indeed blessed and favored by fortune,” the young soldier replied, “that I have been able to do my simple duty in such a manner as to cause you to think me worthy thus to be addressed by you. If this arm could fulfil its task, it was because it acquired skill from your teaching and was exerted in a righteous cause. From the way in which I have gained the victory, it must have been ordained by the Fates which rule this world that I should punish your enemy.”
Sennoske then gave an account of the whole scene as it occurred; and in return his father imparted to him all the particulars preceding his own departure from the province of Mutsu. An hour or two was thus spent before either of them was aware of the lapse of time, and then the young man, in reply to the repeated congratulations of his parent, added: “I was armed, moreover, with a matchless sword, that of itself would almost be sufficient to give confidence even to a weakling, and enable him to achieve success. Muramasa’s gift has indeed been inestimable, and, next to you, my best thanks are due to him.”
As Sennoske spoke, his mind reverted less to the smith than to the pretty O Tetsu, and an involuntary tinge of color flushed his cheek.
Mutto divined the drift of his son’s thoughts, and not unwilling to be left alone for a while with his own emotion, he replied as if in answer to an unspoken question: “You certainly owe a great debt of gratitude to Muramasa, and you ought not to delay thanking him. It would be an inexcusable negligence and a breach of etiquette, as well as a sign of ingratitude, not to visit him on the first day of your arrival. You will of course also see O Tetsu,” he added, with something of a smile on his face as Sennoske expressed his readiness at once to act upon the suggestion. “Muramasa and myself have made arrangements lately; and if you are still of the same mind as regards the girl, your marriage may take place at once, before you start on your new mission to Idzu.”