rayed; and he could not hope,
if his letter had been seen by the daimyo, to escape the severest
penalty. "Now he will order my death," thought Tomotada;--"but I do not
care to live unless Aoyagi be restored to me. Besides, if the
death-sentence be passed, I can at least try to kill Hosokawa." He
slipped his swords into his girdle, and hastened to the palace.

On entering the presence-room he saw the Lord Hosokawa seated upon the
dais, surrounded by samurai of high rank, in caps and robes of
ceremony. All were silent as statues; and while Tomotada advanced to
make obeisance, the hush seemed to his sinister and heavy, like the
stillness before a storm. But Hosokawa suddenly descended from the
dais, and, while taking the youth by the arm, began to repeat the words
of the poem:--"Koshi o-son gojin wo ou."... And Tomotada, looking up,
saw kindly tears in the prince's eyes.

Then said Hosokawa:--

"Because you love each other so much, I have taken it upon myself to
authorize your marriage, in lieu of my kinsman, the Lord of Noto; and
your wedding shall now be celebrated before me. The guests are
assembled;--the gifts are ready."

At a signal from the lord, the sliding-screens concealing a further
apartment were pushed open; and Tomotada saw there many dignitaries of
the court, assembled for the ceremony, and Aoyagi awaiting him in
brides' apparel... Thus was she given back to him;--and the wedding was
joyous and splendid;--and precious gifts were made to the young couple
by the prince, and by the members of his household.

* * *

For five happy years, after that wedding, Tomotada and Aoyagi dwelt
together. But one morning Aoyagi, while talking with her husband about
some household matter, suddenly uttered a great cry of pain, and then
became very white and still. After a few moments she said, in a feeble
voice: "Pardon me for thus rudely crying out--but the paid was so
sudden!... My dear husband, our union must have been brought about
through some Karma-relation in a former state of existence; and that
happy relation, I think, will bring us again together in more than one
life to come. But for this present existence of ours, the relation is
now ended;--we are about to be separated. Repeat for me, I beseech you,
the Nembutsu-prayer,--because I am dying."

"Oh! what strange wild fancies!" cried the startled husband,--"you are
only a little unwell, my dear one!... lie down for a while, and