Her breathless words astounded Madame Yamada.
“That barbarous, beautiful priest wishes to marry me,” she announced in one breath.
Madame Yamada’s lips fell apart.
“What do you mean?” she inquired roughly.
“That’s right—right!” cried the girl, clasping her hands excitedly. “Oh, I am the happiest girl in all Japan!”
Her step-mother extended a long finger and struck it at the girl’s breast.
“What! The foreign devil wants to marry you?”
Madame Yamada was excited, agitated, above all delighted. The gods were favoring her. Here was a solution to all their difficulties.
“Breathe not a word to anyone of this, my daughter,” she said, “but hasten back with the speed of wings to the house of the barbarian. Bring him here, and we will go at once to the next town and have a private ceremony there. The Nakoda Okido must not suspect.”
Azalea swung her sleeves coquettishly.