MASAGO TAKES THE REINS. Now it came to pass that after the mental torture she had endured, the soul-racking perplexities, the days of prayer and nights of vigil, the strong frame of the Abbess gave way under her burthen. She was deeply thankful for the god's decision,--that her prayers had been heard and answered. But her body was worn out--the lamp was burning low, and she was compelled to remain in her chamber, wrapped in many quilts, with Miné, hapless victim of unrequited love, in anxious attendance on her. That unfortunate maiden had never recovered the effect of the dreadful day,--the massacre of her dear ones,--her parents' departure, unforgiving. She moved about her sacred duties like a phantom, with remorse gnawing at her vitals. No need now to keep watch over her lest she should again fling herself into the reluctant arms of the too fascinating young General. He was no more to her seared heart than any other man, for it had lost all sense of feeling. It was scorched out of life on the day of the massacre, and she bore only its ashes in her breast. Masago had sunk into that deep sleep which is the greatest boon to unhappy mortality, and Miné, bending over the hibachi, was stirring the charcoal with a rod, immersed in sad reflection, when there entered a certain bonze who enjoyed reputation as a doctor. He was a learned and a holy man, who dwelt in a monastery on the mountain,--was wise of counsel, and learned in the use of simples. Hearing by chance that the venerated Abbess of Tsu was lying sick, he took his bundle, his lacquered medicine-box, and his staff; put on his tall clogs, and great mushroom priestly hat, and hied towards the convent. Sleep, he observed, after a brief survey, was a better anodyne than simples, and he would therefore await the waking. Warming his fingers: over the glow he chatted with Miné in undertones, exchanged the gossip of Tsu for the last reports from Ki[^y]oto, inquired of what new atrocity my lord the Daimio had been guilty. Oh, yes; he was aware that my lord was away,--summoned to the capital; and added, with mysterious head-shakings, that a surprise was preparing for his return. "_You_ should be pleased to hear of it," went on the good garrulous old gentleman, "after all that your family have suffered at his hands--'tis only fitting retribution;" and then, chattering in whispers, he proceeded to tell of soldiers' shadowy cohorts, who by night had marched past the monastery. "They are massing troops in all the defiles," he whispered. "Your father's anathema has taken effect. The race of the Hojos is run."