Then Yuki, unknown to her mother, had gone up to Tokyo each day and learned the arts of the geisha; later she invented dances and songs of her own, and soon she was able to command a good price at one of the chief tea-gardens in Tokyo.

This for a season had brought them in a fair income, and for a time they were enabled to send him even more than the usual allowance. Then came his request for his passage money. Alas! they were but weak and silly women. They had forgotten to save against this event in their desire to keep him in comfort. Nakodas had approached Yuki, and tempting offers were made to her. She had resisted all of them, for she was then below the age when girls usually marry, but sixteen years of age. Only when it became imperative to raise the passage money would she even listen to the persuasion of her mother and of the nakoda. They had pointed out to her the great advantage, and finally, as the brother’s letters grew more insistent, she had broken down and given in. After that time she had assisted them in their efforts to secure her a suitable husband. They had been exceptionally successful, for she had married a foreigner who would likely leave her soon, which was fortunate in Omatsu’s mind, one whose excellent virtues and whose wealth were above question. This was all there was to tell. She prayed and besought her honorable son’s pardon.

During her recital Taro had leaned towards her, listening with bated breath to every word that escaped her lips. His thin, nervous face was horribly drawn, his hands were clinched tightly at his side, his whole form was quivering. He tried to regain his scattered senses, and his hand vaguely wandered to his brow, pushing back the thick black hair that had fallen over it.

“You cannot understand,” he said to the other man, his voice scarcely recognizable for its labor. “It was for me, me, my little sister sold herself. To keep me in comfort and ease! Snowflake for me! And they kept me in ignorance. I did not even dream they were in straitened circumstances. Oh, had I not willing hands and an eager heart to work, to slave for them? Why should the whole burden have fallen on her, my little, frail sister? But it has always been so. There is no such thing as justice in this land for the woman.”

Jack heard him raving, understood, and bowed his head in impotent sorrow.

“Has your mother given you any information of her whereabouts?” he suddenly broke in.

Taro had forgotten that they were seeking her. His mother’s story had held all his attention. The horror aroused by that recital of devotion, the thought of the months of her sweet life which she had sacrificed for him, and then how he had repulsed her, pressed on his poor numbed senses. But Jack’s inquiry recalled him. A thousand dark surmises regarding her overwhelmed him.

“Yes, yes—where is she?” he asked, huskily.

She had been with her husband some days now. Madam Omatsu expected her home soon, and this time she would never again return to him.

Taro’s eyes were inflamed. “And she has not returned? She should be here now! Ah, it is plain to be seen what has happened. She may be taking her life at this moment. It is what a Japanese girl would do. She had the blood of heroes in her veins; she would not falter.”