For a long time neither of the two uttered a word. When the girl raised her face, after a long interval, it was very white, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She put out a little, groping hand to Aoi.
“Oh, you were good to her, were you not—were you not?” she whisperingly cried.
Aoi could not speak.
After a time the girl arose and reverently pushed the panel into place.
“The things are Engleesh,” she said, slowly. “Is it not strange?”
“Yes,” said Aoi, brokenly.
Yet even then she did not tell the girl the truth. Why she had hidden this fact always from Hyacinth she could hardly have explained even to herself. She thought she had but waited for the girl to come to years of understanding. Afterwards, when the proud Yamashiro family condescended to seek alliance with her, Aoi, faintheartedly fearful lest they should refuse to permit the marriage if they knew the truth, had carefully guarded the secret even from the girl. She knew that only a few people in the little village of Matsushima had heard of the history of the girl. It was only recently that they had moved to the City of Sendai. This match with the Yamashiro family was a thing so splendid as to be regarded with awe by Aoi. It could not be possible that such a chance would ever come again to her adopted daughter.
Now she said to the girl, placing both her hands upon her shoulders:
“Promise me, then, that you will refuse to discuss this subject with the mission-house people.”
“I will not even see them,” said the girl, stooping to kiss the anxious face.