"My mistress, Numè-san, luf vou so much that she going to die, I thing'."
Sinclair stood up, a strange, doubting, uncomprehending look on his face.
"What do you mean, Koto?" he asked, sternly. "Are you trying to—to fool me about something?"
"No! No! I not to fool with you. I tell you the trute. Mrs. Davis tell Numè of vaery sad story account the august Americazan lady wait long many years for you, that you love her always, just not love for a liddle while, because of Numè, that——"
A sudden light began to break in on Sinclair.
"So Numè tell you she not to luf because she want to serve the honorable Americazan ladies and not to pain her father and Takashima Sachi. Then she get vaery sick. She cry for you all the time, and when she is very sick she say: 'Koto, go tell Mr. Sinka I not mean.' Then when she is better she say: 'No; Koto must not go.'"
Sinclair sat down again, and shaded his face with his hand. His mind was in confusion. He could not think. Only out of the jumble of his thoughts came one idea—that Numè loved him, after all. Now he remembered how unnatural, how excited, she had been that last day. Ah, what a fool he was to have believed her then!
His voice was quite unsteady when he broke the long silence. "Koto! Koto! how can I ever repay you for what you have done?"
The little maid was weeping bitterly.
"Ah! Koto is vaery 'fraid that she tell you all this, account Mrs. Davis will speag that I mus' not worg any longer for Numè; she will tell her relatives so, and they will send me away. Then Numè will be all alone; because only Koto love Numè forever."