Nara dared--the insolent dotard!--he dared to spread reports among the people to the detriment of him, the Hojo! Sick unto death, forsooth! He burned to continue his journey forthwith, that the old schemer might be swiftly punished. Hark! What was that? A clatter of hoofs on the hard road. A betto, breathless, wearing the badge of Tsu. What had chanced? Not an accident to the fair O'Kikú? Anything but that. The anxiety of No-Kami caused the warriors to glance with grim meaning from one to another, and shake their heads. How infatuated was their lord with that brazen hussy! A lacquer box, bound with a red cord, containing a roll--a letter scrawled by the dear one. The darling faithful fairy was pining in the absence of her love! Retiring to the inner chamber, with its fine white mats, and gold ceiling painted with many fans, he proceeded to peruse the scroll. "He must not be angry with his little slave in that she perforce must write to him." (Angry! and with her? At home he might have snarled, but now time and distance were between them.) "She was not so well-disciplined, springing from the warm-hearted people, as my lady, the chill chatelaine." (No, in sooth! O'Tei would be long ere she despatched love-missives to her husband.) "She was silly enough to adore my lord so well that each moment out of his company was like a dagger-stab; and yet, _she had comfort in his absence!_" Here was a mystery concerning which he must not be jealous, since the comfort of which she spoke would affect him as well as her. My lord must give way before her whim, and be patient, or if not patient, must hasten home the sooner, that the grand secret of joy might be divulged. Softened, he laid the paper down. He must be a brute indeed who hath not a tender spot in his ruggedness for one who so unselfishly adored! The guileless, silly child! What was the grand secret that was to be the harbinger of doubly-concentrated bliss? Stay! there was a postscript to the letter, and the Hojo scrunched its frail tissue in his palm. Under the green leaf lies the scorpion. "Since my lord went they are at ease, and the Abbess a shameless pander!" That was all, but it was enough to remove the sweetness from the rest,--the one drop of gall that could turn a whole dish sour.