he exhilaration which a moment before had been
his, old Kano seated himself on a chair directly in sight of Tatsu's
bed. The nurses stole away, leaving the two men together. Each
remained motionless, except for hurried breathing, and the pulsing of
distended veins. A crow, perched on the cherry branch outside the
window, tilted a cold, inquisitive eye into the room.

Tatsu was the first to move. The reaction of excitement was creeping
upon him, drawing the sting from pain. He turned toward his visitor
and began to study, with an impersonal curiosity, the aspect of the
pathetic figure. Kano was sitting, utterly relaxed, at the edge of the
cane-bottomed foreign chair His head hung forward, and his lids were
closed. For the first time Tatsu noted how scanty and how white his
hair had grown; how thin and wrinkled the fine old face. Something
akin to compassion rose warm and human in the looker's throat. He had
opened his lips to speak kindly (it would have been the first gentle
word since Ume's loss) when the sight of his name, in handwriting, on
the letter, froze the very air about him, and held him for an instant a
prisoner of fear. The envelope dangled loosely from Kano's fingers.
On it was traced, in Ume-ko's beautiful, unmistakable hand, "For my
beloved husband, Kano Tatsu."

"The letter, the letter," he cried hoarsely, pointing downward. "It is
mine,--give it!"

Kano raised his head. The reaction of excitement was on him too, and
it had brought for him a patient hopelessness. It did not seem to
matter a great deal just now what Tatsu did or thought. He would never
paint. That alone was enough blackness to fill a hell of everlasting
night.

"Give it to me," insisted the boy, leaning far out over the bed. "Did
you bring it only to torture me? Quick, quick,--it is mine!"

"I brought it to give, and you repulsed me. I had found it but this
morning, in your painting room, pinned to a silken frame on which you
had begun her picture! She must have put it there before--before--"

"If you have a shred of pity or of love for me, give it and go," gasped
the boy.

Kano rose with slow dignity. "Yes, it is for you, and I will give it
and leave, as you ask, if I can have your promise--"

"Yes, yes, I promise everything,--anything,--I will not strive to slay
myself,--at least until after your return--"

"That is enough," said the old man, and with a sigh held the missive
out. Tatsu snatched it through