The Heart of Hyacinth
indeed, with such a guest. She is welcome.”

The doctor moved towards the door.

“And the child? It is well, and will not accompany the mother on her last journey. What will become of it?”

Aoi did not reply.

“If it is desired by you, Madame Aoi,” said the doctor, endeavoring to be kind, “I will immediately despatch word to the city to send notification to the nearest open port. There, surely, must be some consul, or representative of the woman’s country. To them the child should go.”

Aoi spoke swiftly.

“The poor one’s people were unkind to her and cruel. How can we tell but that they might also abuse the child?”

“That is the affair of the child, Madame Aoi. Pray accept my counsel. Send the child—”

Interrupted by the sudden entrance of little Komazawa, he did not finish. The boy had evidently heard all, through the thin partition doors, against which he had leaned, listening intently. He thrust himself now before the doctor, with eyes purpled by excitement. His tense little body quivered.

“Sir doctor,” he said, in a voice new even to his mother, it was so strong and haughty, “you make mistake. The child is already among its own people. Here, in my father’s house, all people are Engleesh. So! The child belongs to us, since the mother did present it to us. It is a gift of the good God!”

Smiling and frowning together the little doctor bowed ironically to the little fellow facing him.

“And will the august one enlighten me as to whether he will make an effort to find the child’s legal guardians?”

“That is our affair, sir doctor, but I will answer. We will ask advice of the good excellency when he returns. He is in Sendai even now. He will be in our village to-night.”

The doctor bowed himself out, and Koma turned to his mother, a question in his eyes. Aoi nodded sadly. The poor white woman would die, had said the sir doctor.

Komazawa approached the bed softly, until he stood by the woman’s side, looking down fixedly upon her. How white was the still face, how beautiful the long lashes that swept the cheeks, how wonderful and sunlike the silken hair enveloping her head like a halo. Could she be real, this beautiful, still creature? 
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