“Yes,” said the princess, softly, “the gods know best.”
She looked out through the casement toward the hills of Aoyama. As though she spoke to herself, she said:—
“He will return. He will understand.” Then, in a lower voice, “He loves me.”
Ohano, engaged in putting away the bedding, had not heard the latter words. As she set them, neatly folded, in a little cupboard, she said in tones of conviction:—
“Do not worry, daughter. He will not return. The gods have given you the freedom that you wished so much. Be thankful—”
Sado-ko did not hear her words. She went to the balcony, and looked with wistful eyes toward her former castle home.
“He will return,” she whispered to her questioning heart, “I am not stranded here alone.”
A thrill of apprehension smote her. Had the change she had effected with Masago been in vain? Would Junzo follow the new Sado-ko? Could it be that his eyes were no keener than those of Masago’s relatives?
All about her the yellow sunlight smiled. The hills were warm. The skies were blue. The air was still and sweet. Peace and silence were everywhere in Kamakura.
“The gods are good,” said Sado-ko, with divine faith; “he must return to me.”