“I have questioned every one about me—my uncle, his samurai, the very servants about the castle—but none will make answer to me, whether from ignorance or by command of those in authority over them, I know not. Do you, then, my lover, answer me.”
“My little flower-girl, I do not know the offence of your honorable father, nor do I know why or wherefore he was sent into exile. I was but a child of five when this penalty came upon him.”
“Then wherefore did you tremble and turn away your eyes when I spoke of my honorable parent?”
“Because I know that injury of some sort was wrought against your honorable parent by my—by the Mori, and since then so implacable an enmity exists between our families that nothing but blood alone can ever wipe away the stain. Think, then, of the wrong I do your father in loving his own daughter!”
“No, no—dear Keiki—it is no wrong, I do assure you. If there be a feud existing between my father and the Mori Prince, truly you and I, who are innocent, cannot be implicated in any way, and, indeed, it is not as if I were about to wed one of the Mori family itself, but—”
“In that case,” he interrupted, quickly, “if I were indeed of this Mori family, what then?”
For a moment the girl recoiled, shrinking backward, and regarded him with frightened, shocked eyes.
“That—would—be—impossible,” she said, and she shivered with apprehension.
“If it were possible?” said the lover, hoarsely.
“It could not be,” she insisted, “for the Mori princes are proud and ill-favored, while you—”