spasmodically to the hands of Aoi.

IV

Morning dawned with a haggard light. Ceaselessly the rain drizzled down. The torpid heat of the previous day had given place to a clammy chilliness. The weather oppressed the sick one. Her restlessness was gone, but passive quiet was more ominous. Her white face seemed to have shrunken through the night—so white and still it was that she seemed scarcely to breathe.

Too weak to bear the burden of her child against her, the mother permitted the little one to be cared for in an interior room lest its cries might disturb her. All through the day she spoke no word. Wearily, the heavy lids of her eyes were closed.

As the day began to wane, Aoi, thoroughly alarmed, summoned the village doctor; a very old and learned man he was considered. He felt the woman’s hands, listened to her breathing with his ear against her lips. Very cold her hands were, but her breathing was regular, though faint.

The doctor looked grave, solemn, and wise. He shook his bald head ominously.

“How long has the honorable one been thus?”

“Since early morn, sir doctor. She awoke from her night sleep only to fall into this condition.”

“The woman has but a short space of life left to her,” said the doctor, solemnly.

Aoi trembled.

“Her people—” she began, falteringly. “Oh, good sir doctor, it is very, very sad. So young! Ah, so beautiful!”

Seeming not to share or understand Aoi’s sympathy, the doctor gathered up his instruments and simples slowly, meanwhile glancing uneasily towards the face of the sick woman. He turned suddenly to Aoi.

“Madame,” he said, “the village sympathizes with you at the infliction placed upon you by this enforced guest, but—”

“You do not finish, sir doctor?”

“The woman became a nuisance at the tavern. The people there were not Kirishitans (Christians), and were moreover in ignorance of the woman’s speech. They could only comprehend that she wished to be taken to some one of her own people—so, madame, you—”

“I, being of her people,” said Aoi, with simple dignity, “she was brought to me. That was right. I thank my neighbors for their kindness. I am honored, 

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