"The best friend a man has," she observed, "is his mother; for a mother's love, undervalued often, is tinged with no selfish taint. Child, child," she sighed, placing a fond hand on his broad shoulder, "take warning while there's time. Do not think me blind, or foolishly importunate. You love O'Tei, and, for sake of both, had better keep apart. Think what tragedy might follow if your brother had cause for jealousy." Love O'Tei! Was it so patent, then?--he the last to know it? The General in silence walked up and down, while his mother gazed upon him wistfully. There was a deep sadness on his face that pained her. Perhaps in speaking out so plainly, she had been precipitate. Yet no; she had never been one to beat about a bush. Her stern creed admitted no half measures. Presently Sampei spoke. "For once, most dear and wise of mothers, you are wrong," he said. "I love her; yes, I will not deny it--how much I did not know until ten minutes since. My love is so true and pure, that to save her a momentary grief I would fling myself off yonder rock. Be not afraid; no harm shall come to her through me." "Noble and chivalrous in intent, just like my boy," nodded the sapient Abbess. "Maybe you are strong enough to carry out your resolve unflinchingly; but what of her? What if she, less prudent and more weak, were to bestow her heart on you? It would lead to general wretchedness, if not to her undoing." Sampei had not considered it from that point, and ruefully rubbed his nose. It would no doubt be very awkward if O'Tei were to become enamoured of him. In that case, heroic leaps off rocks would be of little service. Then he burst into a loud shout of laughter. "How like a mother!" he crowed. "Her own offspring being, of course, perfect--a full-plumaged ph[oe]nix--all must needs fall down and worship. Believe me, she is as pure as the dawn; her affection that of a sister." "Now, perhaps, and I sincerely hope so," replied the Abbess quietly; "but you have no right to place her in temptation. So you deem me a silly old woman, too partial to her featherpated son? Well, then, I am forced to tell you, as a warning, that which I intended to conceal, to show that you are over-modest. I trow there are maids galore who wear the willow in secret for the most brilliant soldier in Japan. There is one luckless girl I wot of, who has flung her foolish heart at you--who weeps and languishes for love of you--swears she will have no other lord. Fie! She is a good and honest girl, who would never have thus bestowed herself without encouragement." "Bestowed herself on _me?_" exclaimed Sampei, round-eyed, and feeling guilty. "Her name is Miné." "Miné!" ejaculated the careless scapegrace. "Tush! I know no Miné."