“Hope?” repeated Madame Sano. “Our best hopes are realized, my daughter. Kurukawa Kiyskichi has made the supreme sacrifice. He has given his life to his Emperor and to his country.”
Now, Mrs. Kurukawa raised herself. Two spots of red appeared in her cheeks. Her eyes were feverish, her nervous fingers clasped each other spasmodically.
“I will tell you my hope—my belief. I feel, in spite of what we have heard, that my husband is not dead. I feel it somehow. I cannot explain. Only this I do know: he promised he would return, and he must! Oh, I am sure he will!”
Gently the old woman spoke, smoothing the hands of the other woman as she did so.
“My child, he will truly return to you as he has promised. All Japanese soldiers expect to return to their wives, but in the spirit!”
Mrs. Kurukawa drew her hands passionately away.
“That was not his meaning,” she said.
Madame Sano shook her head sadly.
“Ah, my child, be reconciled to the august inevitable.”
There was a smile upon the pale lips of the younger woman.