Shadowings

words; and in her turn she told him about all that had happened in Kyoto since the time of his departure—excepting her own sorrows, of which she sweetly refused to speak. They chatted far into the night; then she conducted him to a warmer room, facing south—a room that had been their bridal chamber in former times. “Have you no one in the house to help you?” he asked, as she began to prepare the couch for him. “No,” she answered, laughing cheerfully: “I could not afford a servant—so I have been living all alone.” “You will have plenty of servants tomorrow,” he said—“good servants—and everything else that you need.” They lay down to rest—not to sleep: they had too much to tell each other—and they talked of the past and the present and the future, until the dawn was grey. Then, involuntarily, the Samurai closed his eyes, and slept.

When he awoke, the daylight was streaming through the chinks of the sliding shutters; and he found himself, to his utter amazement, lying upon the naked boards of a moldering floor.... Had he only dreamed a dream? No: she was there;—she slept.... He bent above