To tell an ordinary Japanese that in America people often marry against their parents’ consent is to puzzle him, and make him believe Carlyle’s saying about Americans without having heard it.  If a man who marries against his parents’ wish is not a triple-dyed ingrate, he must be a downright fool.  Beyond this idea the normal Japanese cannot go; and you might as well try to make a blind man understand that “celestial rosy red” was “Love’s proper hue” as to convince him that a good man ever marries against his parents’ wishes.  Such ideas and practices are convincing evidences to him of the vast moral inferiority of Western nations when compared with that of the people descended from the gods.

Resuming our narrative, we must mention that Kiku’s father had once had an offer from one Matsui, a wealthy retainer of the Wakasa clan, through that young nobleman’s middleman or agent, which he refused, to the disgust of both middleman and suitor.  The latter had seen Kiku walking with her mother while going to the temple at Shiba, and, being struck with her beauty, inquired who she was.  Having come of age and wishing a wife, he had sued for Kiku to her father, who, for reasons of his own, refused the request, on the ground that Kiku was too young, being then but fifteen years old.  The truth was, that the Wakasa samurai was a wild young fellow, and bore a reputation for riotous living that did not promise to make him a proper life-companion for Nakayama’s refined and cultured daughter.  Between Nakayama, Kiku’s father, and Yamashiro, the retainer of the Echizen clan, whose home we spoke of in the opening of our sketch, had long existed a warm friendship and a mutual high regard.  Yamashiro, though more fond of society and good living than Nakayama, was nevertheless, like him, a high-spirited and well-read man.  He had four children, two sons and two daughters.  The oldest son, named Taro, was now twenty years old, of manly figure, diligent in study, and had lately acted as a high page, attending daily upon the person of Hitotsu-bashi, the then reigning Sho-gun, and the last of his line that held or will hold regal power in Japan.  Taro, being the oldest son of his father, was the heir to his house, office, rank and revenue.  Taro wanted a wife.  He wished to taste the sweets of love and wedded joy.  He had long thought of Kiku.  Of course he asked his father, and his father “was willing.”  He told Taro to go to Nakayama’s house.  Taro went.  He talked to Nakayama, and hinted faint compliments of his daughter.  It was enough.  Nakayama was keen of scent, and he also “was willing.”  Clapping his hands, the maid-servant appeared and falling down and bowing her head to the floor, listened:  “Make some tea, and tell Miss Kiku to serve it.”

Had you been in the back rooms of that house, you would have seen Kiku blush as the maid told her who was in the front room and what her father had said.  Her heart beat furiously, and the carnation of health upon her cheeks was lost in the hot blushes that mantled her face and beautiful neck when her mother, reproving her, said, “Why, dear child, don’t be excited:  perhaps he has come only on some every-day business, after all.  Be composed, and get ready to take in the tea.”