Had Jane been a mind reader, long ere the night had gone, she could have found strange things in my brain.

Hours afterwards I sat on my balcony that overhung the soft lapping waters below, still deeply thinking.  Often at the end of the day’s toil I sought this retreat and refreshed my soul in the incomparable beauty of the view.

In that hour the tender spirit of night folded me about.  Out of the mystery of the vast blue I heard faintly a new message, potent with promise, charged with possibilities.  The earth was wrapped in a robe of gray, made of mist and illusion, and its every sound was hushed by the lullaby of the night-wind.  Dim, silent mountains clustered about the silver waters, as great watchmen guarding a precious jewel.

Toward me across the moon-misted sea came a procession of ghostly sails.  Every ship seemed to bear troops of white-robed maidens and, as they floated past, they gaily waved their hands to me, calling for comradeship and understanding, a wide-open heart, freedom to love.

IV

JANE GRAY BRINGS HOME A MAN

During the weeks following my visit I had good reason to believe that Kishimoto San’s power to command was not in working order.  Zura failed to put in an appearance for her lessons, nor did any message come from the ancient house by the sea to explain the delay.

I could only guess how things stood between the grandfather and the alien child.

Every minute of my day was filled with classes, demands and sick babies, but between duties and when Jane was elsewhere I snatched time to inspect eagerly every visitor who clicked a sandal or shoe-heel on the rough stones of my crooked front path.  I kept up the vigil for my desired pupil until I heard one of my adoring housemaids confide to the other that she had “the great grief to relate Jenkins Sensie was getting little illness in her head.  She condescended to respond to the honorable knock at her door—­and she a great teacher lady!”

After this I transferred my observations to the crescent-shaped window at one end of my study.  This ornamental opening in the wall commanded a full view of the main highway of Hijiyama.  Through it I could look down far below upon the street life which was a panorama quietly intense, but gay and hopeful.  The moving throng resembled a great bouquet swayed by a friendly breeze, so bright in coloring with the flower-sellers, white-garbed jinricksha men, vegetable vendors, and troops of butterfly children that any tone of softer hue attracted immediate attention.

This led me to a discovery one day when I caught sight of a dark-brown velvet dress, and I knew that my promised pupil was inside it.  Her shining hair made me sure, and I guessed that the young man with whom she walked was the ship’s officer.  The sight troubled me; but interference except by invitation was not my part.  I could do nothing but wait.