Just then Aoi appeared at the door. She came towards them in a state of repressed excitement, and she welcomed her guests with stammering and uncertain words, though she courtesied so repeatedly that the visitors became uneasy.
“My daughter?” inquired Lorrimer, as soon as Aoi had ceased her kowtowing.
“She will come in a moment. The illustrious ones will pardon the child’s nervousness.”
“It is only natural,” said Lorrimer, quietly, biting his underlip in his own restlessness.
Aoi’s face, with its humble smile, suddenly appeared alert. She seemed to be listening.
“Ah, now she is coming, augustness,” she said, as she crossed to the doors and slowly pushed them aside.
The Lorrimers had not heard the soft patter of the little feet in the matted hall, for a Japanese girl’s tread in the house is almost soundless. Hence, when Aoi drew the sliding-doors apart, they had not expected to see the girl on the very threshold.
They started, simultaneously, at sight of the little figure. With drooping head, Hyacinth softly entered the room. At first glance she seemed no different from any other Japanese girl, save that she was somewhat taller. She was dressed in kimono and obi, her hair freshly arranged and shining in its smooth butterfly mode. Her face was bent to the floor, so that they could scarcely see more than its outline.
She hesitated a moment before them; then, as though unaware of the impetuous motion towards her of the man she knew was her father, she subsided to the mats and bowed her head at his feet.
The silence that ensued was painful. Then Mrs. Lorrimer gasped, hysterically: