XIX
“Yamashiro Yoshida will not marry me. He has cast me off,” Hyacinth told Aoi.
“And to-night,” said Aoi, helplessly, “the father will arrive.”
The girl pressed her hands tightly together. Aoi laid a timid, comforting hand upon her shoulder.
“Little one,” she said, in a pleading voice, “pray thee to take cheer. It is your duty to go to your father. You have not forgotten all I have taught you. Filial submission to the parent is the most important of all.”
“And have I not always shown such respect and devotion to you, dear mother?”
“To me? Ah, yes, little one, and I would that I were, indeed, your own mother.”
“You are, you are,” cried the girl, crushing down the sob that rose in her throat, and then dashing her hand against her eyes. “Ah,” she cried, “this is not time to weep. We must think—must think of some way. Yamashiro has failed us. Ah! Who could have expected else? They were always despicable.”
“Try and follow my counsel,” said Aoi; “accept the inevitable. The father is coming; he is your rightful guardian. Bow to his will and give him what affection you can.”