Slowly Moonlight put the sheltering arms of Omi from her and turned and looked wistfully, almost hungrily, at her mother-in-law.
“It is—unnecessary,” she said, gently. “I pray you forgive the dissension I have already caused in your honorable family. Say to Ohano, from me, that though it is not possible for me to give to her the one who has given to me his eternal vows, yet gladly I resign to her my little son.”
A curious look was on the face of the mother-in-law. For a long moment she stood staring up blankly at the geisha. Then she said, in a tone of deadly quiet:
“My daughter Ohano has gone upon—a journey!”
“A journey!” repeated the geisha, lowly. Then, as she saw that look upon the other’s face: “Ah, you mean not surely the Long Journey to the Meido?” she cried out, piteously. Lady Saito’s head dropped upon her breast. Moonlight felt overwhelmed, dazed, awed. Ohano gone! Ohano, the strong, the triumphant one!
“I entreat you to come with me now,” said Lady Saito, simply. “It was the wish of Ohano that you—that you should take her place.” She paused, and added quietly: “It was she, my daughter, who made a place for you in the house of the ancestors.”
They had lifted her into the carriage. Her head fell back, and she began to weep slow, painful tears that crept down her face and dropped upon the hands of her maiden. Said the latter, joyously:
“See how the gods love you, sweet mistress. See how they have avenged you. See how they destroy your enemies and—”
“Do not speak so,” cried her mistress entreatingly. “Only the gods themselves are competent to judge us. I do not weep for myself, but for Ohano, who has been ruthlessly thrust out upon the Long Journey. I would that I could take her place; but all that I can do to help her is to go to the shrines daily and beseech the gods to make easy the travels of Ohano.”