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Once only I visited Kishimoto San's house and had an interview with him. He was courteous, and his formality more sad than cold. He would never again take Zura into his house; neither would he interfere with her. Her name had been stricken from his family register. As long as I was kind enough to give her shelter, he would provide for her.
I was not familiar with the name Kishimoto San gave; he called it "Shaal." "Oh," cried my companion, "I know. I lived there once. It's Seattle." Occasionally there shot through Jane's mind a real thought, as luminous as a shaft of light through a jar of honey. I would have never guessed the name of that city.
While he had not seen or heard of her being with the young officer man, he had no doubt she spent her time in his company. In as few words as possible I told Kishimoto of my interview with Mr. Chalmers, and his promise not to come again nor to further complicate matters. My listener was more than pleased. "I thank you," he said impressively. "You are a strong-minded woman."
However, the late afternoon was an unusual hour for him to appear and one glance at his face showed trouble of a personal nature had drawn heavy lines in his mask of calmness. I had known Kishimoto San for twenty years. Part of him I could read like a primer; the other part was a sealed volume to which I doubt if even Buddha had the key.
All mens change from one thing to other by spontaneous combustion and obey the universal laws of God." My companion was still laughing at this remarkable statement and I puzzling over its meaning when Kishimoto San was announced. I found a possible translation of the sentence in his appearance. "Spontaneous combustion" nearly fitted the state of mind he disclosed to me.
I explained the meaning of the festival, which was more strictly observant of ritual and old customs than any other of the year, and I told of Kishimoto San's invitation to me. Miss Gray exclaimed anxiously, "But you are not going?" Jane was slow in shaking off the limitations of the doctrine that branded all religions in a foreign country as idolatrous and contaminating. I said I intended going.
I had always thought my ignorance on the subject as deep as a cave. I would begin at once to excavate my soul in search of that "great knowledge." I proceeded a little loftily: "Oh, Kishimoto San, I am sure there is a way to right things. The fault lies in the fact that Zura and you do not understand each other. Suppose you permit her to come to me for a little visit without study.
In the face of Kishimoto San, as he looked at his granddaughter, was concentrated the power of his will and all the intolerant passion of his religion. He looked and he waited in vain. The girl did not move. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, but his words fairly stabbed the air. "Obey me! Approach and bow!" Zura seemed to be turned to stone.
Is there not enough of my blood in her to make her bow to the law? Twice she has told me to attend to my own affairs! Told me! Her ancestor! Her Master!" This last word he always pronounced with a capital M. Kishimoto San was not cruel. Unlike many of his countrymen, who are educated by modern methods as regarding laws governing women, he was still an old-time Oriental in the raw.
But I, too, could fight for ideals; love of freedom and the divine right of the individual were themes as dear to me as they were hateful to Kishimoto San. It had occurred many times before, and we always argued in a circular process. Neither of us had ever given in.
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