Taro was speaking to her in Japanese, in a sharp, cruel voice, and she was answering gently, meekly, humbly, consolingly. Jack felt sorry for her. Suddenly Taro threw her hands from him, with a gesture of sheer despair and exhausted patience.
I can learn nothing from her, nothing, he said in English. Then he turned on her again. Listen, he said: You are my mother, and as such I honor you, but you must not deceive me. I know all; know that my sister was married to an American; know how she was married, if you call such marriage. They do not consider it so, as you must know. What do you know of this, my mother? It could not have happened without your knowledge?
The mother broke down at last. All was indeed lost if he knew that much. She sank in a heap at his feet, and again the other man was reminded of her daughter.
Taro raised her, not ungently, curbing his emotions.
Pray speak to me the truth, he implored.
It was for you, she said, faintly, in Japanese. I desired it, I, your mother; and, afterwards, she also, she, your sister. It was a small sacrifice, my son.
Sacrifice! What do you mean? he cried.
Alas, we had not the money to keep you at the American school, and later, when you desired to return, it was still harder.
Oh, my God!
She went on, speaking brokenly in Japanese. After he had gone to America their little fortune had been swept away, but of this they had kept him in ignorance, fearing that he would not remain in the university did he know how poor they had become. The house belonged to him; they could not sell it. There had been but poor crops in their few remaining acres of rice-fields; their income became smaller and smaller. One by one their servants and coolies had to be sacrificed, till there were only a very few left, and these refused to be paid for their services. They had secured money in what manner they could, and sent it to him. It was hard, but they loved him.