Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1905-05-07
c III A r. G E O F
T HE, E 7 A
Continued from page Al


his preparations to go to Toxic, for he
had been designated for the Guards. On
the way he stopped by their secret post
office to get what might be his last letter
from her. There would be no way OF
writing when he was in the army, for how
could letters be delivered without some
one finding out? and thai might be the
ruin of all.
He looked with excited eagerness in
the carefully hidden box. There, sure
enough was letter, and he took it up
with an instant humping of the heart,
that gave place to queer sensation OF
cold, as if he had been struck chill sud
denly The writing was strange. He
did not know it. Some one had found
them out. For a moment he stood
paralyzed by shock, nerveless, inert, ex-
pecting some dire calamity, as if the
world was to fall in wild cataclysm.
Then he tore open the envelop.
The signature alone was enough. 1t
was the first thing his eyes caught, and
after that he could hardly see the other
words Those two dominated every
thing" Kudo Julichi," her father! The
new clothed dignity of the law that made
him a commoner slipped from him like
a kimono unfastened, and he was again
the Eta of the old days, outcast, despiSed,
a very pollution. Then the Unborn pride
of race came back, and he Strengthened up
like a new man. What was it to him
that Iukichi had learned their secret?
Nothing but that had changed, and that
must have been sooner or later. He had
done no wrong He was the same man
who already even in his youth, had made
for himself a name in the town and dis
trict, the son of the same stout-hearted,
strong willed father who by his own
work and effort had won his way up from
bitter legal degradation to a position of
honor and consideration in the COM
munity The law that had given them
the chance was still the law. He took
new heart and read again the letter of her
father. Now his cooler brain saw some
thing he had missed before. The terror
of expectation had beclouded him. The
words that seemed SO awful then had lost
some of their force. The rage he had
dreaded most of all he did not find But
in its stead there was a cool, fine sarcasm
that cut as if the Samurai who wrote had
welded his sword instead.
He took the letter home 1t might as
well be told there now. His poor little
secret stripped of its veil, seemed small
and miserable. But he was going away
tomorrow, and unknown tomorrow
could do what it would with him. After
supper, when the pipes came, he gave it
to his father, and listened unmoved while
Chobei solemnly read aloud the bitter,
hooking words. Koyo the mother COW
cred her face with her kimono-sleeves and
wept openly, but Chobei laid his strong
arm over his boys shoulder and said:
My son! My son!" No more.
Next day the queer little procession
that marched with Soichi to the station
whence the train was to whirl him away
passed the dilapidated house on Lower
Timber-st., and Soichi, daring one hasty
glance, caught for an instant a glimpse
of face at a window, and the flash of
eyes undimmed by tears that gave him
a message of cheer and hope and con-
stancy. Then came the weary miles of
railroad, and the army.
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