, that even in absence, each felt always something of the other's
mood. It was a sleepless night to the girl, also. She cowered close
about the Secret, until its fierce light scorched her. She pressed
down her lids with strong, white fingers, but the glory streamed
through. So, tortured by intolerable bliss, she suffered, until the
dawn came in.

Quite early in the day the bride's trousseau and gifts were sent to
Tatsu's home. They made a train that filled the neighbors' eyes with
wonder and Mata's swelling heart with pride. There were lacquered
chests and cases of drawers, all filled with clothing. Each great
square package was covered with a decorated cloth, and swung from a
gilded staff borne on the shoulders of two stout coolies. There were
boxes of cakes, fruit, and eggs; and jinrikishas piled with a medley of
gifts. Even Kano was impressed. Uchida rubbed his two fat hands
together and laughed at everything. Ume-ko, watching the moving
shadows pass under her father's gate-roof, closed her eyes quickly and
caught her breath. The next gift from the Kano home was to be herself.

By this time autumn was upon the year. A few early chrysanthemums
opened small golden suns in the garden. Dodan bushes and maples hinted
at a crimson splendor soon to follow. The icho trees stood like
pyramids of gold; and suzuki grass upon the hillsides brushed a
cloudless blue sky with silken fingers. In the garden, autumn insects
sang. Ume-ko's kirigirisu which, some weeks before, she had released
from its cage, had, as if in gratitude made a home among the lichens of
the big plum tree. Ume believed that she always knew its voice from
among the rest, no matter how full the chorus of silver chiming.

She had gone back to her room, and sat now, in the centre of it,
staring toward the garden. Noon had crept upon it, devouring all
shadow. Her eyes saw little but the golden blur. A fusuma opened
softly, and two women, Mata and the attendant seamstress, came mincing
and smirking toward her, each with an armful of white silk. Ume rose
like an automaton. They began her toilet, talking the while in low
voices. They robed her in white with a thin lining-edge of crimson,
and threw over her shining hair a veil of tissue. Some one outside
called that the bride's kuruma was at the gate. Old Kano entered the
room, smiling. His steps creaked and rustled with new silk. Ume
turned for one fleeting glimpse of her plum tree. It s