two quilts on the golden
matting, when she had lit the rushlight in the square _andon_,
when the two girls were lying side by side under the heavy wadded
bedclothes, Sadako said to her cousin:

"Asa Chan, I do not think you like me now as much as you used to like
me."

"I always like people when I have once liked them," said Asako; "but
everything is different now."

"I see, your heart changes quickly," said her cousin bitterly.

"No, I have tried to change, but I cannot change. I have tried to
become Japanese, but I cannot even learn the Japanese language. I do
not like the Japanese way of living. In France and in England I was
always happy. I don't think I shall ever be happy again."

"You ought to be more grateful," said Sadako severely. "We have saved
you from your husband, who was cruel and deceitful--"

"No, I don't believe that now. My husband and I loved each other
always. You people came between us with wicked lies and separated us."

"Anyhow, you have made the choice. You have chosen to be Japanese. You
can never be English again."

The Fujinami had hypnotized Asako with this phrase, as a hen can be
hypnotized with a chalk line. Day after day it was dinned into her
ears, cutting off all hope of escape from the country or of appeal to
her English friends.

"You had better marry a Japanese," said Sadako, "or you will become
old maid. Why not marry Ito San? He says he likes you. He is a clever
man. He has plenty of money. He is used to foreign ways."

"Marry Mr. Ito!" Asako exclaimed, aghast; "but he has a wife already."

"They will divorce. It is no trouble. There are not even children."

"I would rather die than marry any Japanese," said Asako with
conviction.

Sadako Fujinami turned her back and pretended to sleep; but long
through the dark cold night Asako could feel her turning restlessly to
and fro.

Some time about midnight Asako heard her name called:

"Asa Chan, are you awake?"

"Yes; is anything the matter?"

"Asa Chan, in your house by the river you will be lonely. You will not
be afraid?"

"I am not afraid to be lonely," Asako answered; "I am afraid of
people."

"Look!" said her cousin; "I give you this."

She drew from the bosom of her kimono the short sword in its sheath of
shagreen, which Asako had seen once or twice before.

"It is very old," she continued; "it belonged to my mother's people.
They were _samurai_ of the Sendai clan. In old Japan every noble
girl carrie