spirit in its leap for eternity.

Asako found in that old garment of her mother's a much more faithful
reflection of the life which had been transmitted to her, than the
stiff photograph could ever realise. She had chosen the poems herself.
Asako must get them transcribed and translated; for they would be a
sure indication of her mother's character. Already the daughter could
see that her mother too must have loved rich and beautiful things,
happiness and laughter.

Old Mr. Fujinami had called her "the _Semi_." Asako did not yet
know the voice of the little insects which are the summer and autumn
orchestra of Japan. But she knew that it must be something happy and
sweet; or they would not have told her.

* * * * *

She rose from her knees, and found her cousin waiting for her on the
veranda. Whatever real expression she may have had was effectively
hidden behind the tinted glasses, and the false white complexion, now
renovated from the ravages of emotion. But Asako's heart was won by
the power of the dead, of whom Sadako and her family were, she felt,
the living representatives.

Asako took both of her cousin's hands in her own.

"It was sweet of you and your mother to give me that," she said--and
her eyes were full of tears--"you could not have thought of anything
which would please me more."

The Japanese girl was on the point of starting to bow and smile the
conventional apologies for the worthlessness of the gift, when she
felt herself caught by a power unfamiliar to her, the power of the
emotions of the West.

The pressure on her wrists increased, her face was drawn down towards
her cousin's, and she felt against the corner of her mouth the warm
touch of Asako's lips.

She started back with a cry of "_Iya_! (don't!)," the cry of outraged
Japanese femininity. Then she remembered from her readings that such
kissings were common among European girls, that they were a compliment
and a sign of affection. But she hoped that it had not disarranged her
complexion again; and that none of the servants had seen.

Her cousin's surprise shook Asako out of her dream; and the kiss left
a bitter powdery taste upon her lips which disillusioned her.

"Shall we go into the garden?" said Sadako, who felt that fresh air
was advisable.

They joined hands; so much familiarity was permitted by Japanese
etiquette. They went along the gravel path to the summit of the little
hillock where the ch