“It is I,” she said, simply.
She had discovered the secret of the mirror, and somehow it had lost all terror for her—nay, it held her with a strange delight and fascination.
“Little one,” said Komazawa, kneeling beside her, “look very often into the honorable mirror—every day. There you will see your own image. You will not be ignorant of yourself. You will learn much which the sensei cannot teach you. Also, go each day to the mission-house. No; do not shake your head so. But every day you must go to the school class. Then very soon, maybe in three years, I will return and complete the teaching.”
Hyacinth looked timidly up into his earnest face a moment. Then she suddenly smiled and dimpled.
“Very well,” she said, in English, in a tone whose note expressed as words could not her perplexed emotion.
A smile overspread Koma’s face.
“Ah,” he said, with a glance back at his mother, “the little one has not forgotten.”
“Yet,” said Aoi, “she has not spoken it, son, since you left Sendai five years ago.”
