Complete Story. An Idyll of a Japaness Garden.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVIII, Issue XII, 22 March 1902, Page 532

Complete Story. An Idyll of a Japaness Garden.

In the cool shade of her father's garden sat O-Hana, the flower of Yokohama. By her side was a ponderous book, opened at the legend of the Forty-seven Ronin. It lay on the turf where it had fallen—unheeded, forgotten. Her chamicen was in her hand, but the dainty fingers rested idly on the strings, and the instrument was as silent as the harp of Tara. O-Hana’s eyes stared vacantly into the air; her thoughts, which, in young ladies of her interesting age, so often run riot, were in a whirling labyrintn of tender daydreams. Nothing could have been prettier, with a diminutive, fragile prettiness; or grander, with a lofty, imposing grandeur than this garden in the suburbs of Yokohama. The sheltered bowers, the little sparkling fountains of carved stone, the weeping bamboo nodding to the breeze, the joyous sun dancing on the gilded roof of a distant pagoda, looked like a scene from a heathen paradise; but far above them all. sweeter than the sweetest pastoral poem that has ever been written or thought of, was the little sad-eyed mous’me squatting in the shade.

O-Hana was a triumph of Oriental loveliness. Her complexion was as clear and rosy as any European’s, without a tinge of that dry yell w which is supposed to be characteristic of the Japanese beauty. Her features were small and well formed, and did not by any means give one the impression of having been sat upon in childhood. Her hair, although black as night, was extremely soft, and fell almost tn her heels in a shower of glossy glory. And here the description must stop, for noth ing could convey an adequate impression of O-Hana's eyes. Dark and soft, with an expression of wonderful tenderness and love, they flashed and fired, melted and implored, changed with every variation of her mood.

Away in the distance, the deep blue waves laughed at the golden sun, and hundreds of gaudy junks and fishermen’s foune were plying in the har hour —but O-Hana saw them not. Around the garden the picturesque town of Yokohama spread itself like a panorama, the white temples and the pretty tea-houses standing out against the misty expanse of oceanlike fairy palaces in a w nderland — hut O-Hana dreamed and saw* them not. Tn the background rose her father’s yasiki. and behind that, melting in the ’clouds, old Fousiyamn heaved his volcanic summit at the heavens—but still O-Hana stared in space, and saw not these things. The pretty head that drooped over the chamicen was in a strange medley. The story of the Forty-seven Ronin, the brave princes of Japanese chivalry, was still vaguely holding possession of her mind. The little mous’me had a great capacity for love, and felt very deeply the want of someone to lavish her affection upon. Oh! could the divine Kouransonke. the noblest of the Ronin, have returned to life how gladly would she have flung herself at his feet! What felicity to he the handmaid, the slave of such a hero! How different he must have b-°n from the petty men with whom she had been nurtured.

O-Hana loved not her own people. There was O-Sada-san. the son of the richest merchant in Yokohama; how complacentlv would he have drunk the sake with her. But O-Sada-san’s attentions were received coldly: his devotion was not even rewarded with a smile. Then there was Dnnna-san. who was employed in nn English firm He certainly dressed better, but was quite a fool. Then there was Tamaya: be was— —

A sudden interruption scattered OTTrina's meditations to the four winds. Fnr down the street she hoard a quick pitter-patter of feet, and the shrill cry of the running ricksha-man. This in itself wns quite an event in O-

Hana’s quiet existence, for, being in one of the most remote suburbs of the town, visitors were few and far between. The sound came rapidly nearer; the whoop of the runner grew momentarily more distinct, and, in a few minutes, an elaborate ricksha whirled into the gate and up the pathway. Before the vehicle had stopped a young athletic Englishman, in the dress of a naval officer, sprang from it, and gave the ricksha-man a hearty smack on the back, which made him cough for five minutes. “ Well done, my boy, well done,” he cried in English. “ I like to see a man who doesn’t mind getting hot. T used to do a bit of sprinting myself when I was at Oxford, but dash me if I’d care to toe the mark with you for- a trifle, although you run with a most abominable style.” He looked at the yasiki and round the garden with obvious delight. After the madding crowd of the town the place seemed peculiarly quiet and peaceful. He walked up to one of the little fountains, and examined it carefully; then he looked at the giant bamboo, and of course, immediately caught sight of O’Hana, staring at him with unaffected admiration. He was somewhat staggered

for a moment, but quickly recovered his national self-possession, and advancing towards her, raised his hat, and executed a most elaborate bow. “Good morning, moua-me-san.” The Englishman’s pronunciation was so nice, and yet so different from her own, that O’Hana’s adoration increased. Her eyes instinctively turned to the ground as she answered: ' “Good morning, idjin-san” (foreign gentleman). “Is this the dwelling-place of Yotembo-san, whose name is famous in Yokohama for his knowledge of antiquities and rarities?” “This is the yasiki of Yotembosan,” replied the mous’me. “And you, if I may be so bold?” “I am O-Hana, the daughter of Yotembo.” “Would it be possible for me to see your father?” “Yotembo-san is out. He has been called to the yasiki of the prince, to tell the age of two swords, which once belonged to a great Damio of the prince’s family. He will be returning in a short time, and if the foreign gentleman will sit and take a cup of tea, it will be an honour to Yotembo and his daughter.” The mous’me bowed to the ground in the Japanese fashion, and Ronald Carforth. the young officer, overcome by the little lady’s attractions, was quite willing to avail himself of the opportunity of a tete-a-tete with her. O-Hana clapped her hands, and in a few minutes the ne-san (servant) brought the tea, in the tiniest of

tiny cups, and deposited it on the grass in front of her mistress. Now Carforth liked not the Japanese tea; in fact, he had occasionally given way to unnecessarily forcible remarks about the stuff. But this time it seemed to have a much sweeter flavour. He could not quite account for the fluctuation of taste, nor did he lose much time trying. All that appealed to him was, that within a few minutes of his entry into the garden, he found himself enjoying a confidential and most tender conversation with a young lady of undeniable attractions. But O-Hana looked up under her eyebrows as if she was rather anxious about something. Following her glance, he saw the amiable rikshaman, whom he had quite forgotten, smiling serenely at him and his little companion. “What are you waiting for, you grinning heathen?” cried Carforth, springing up. “Get off, do you hear!”

The riksha-man smiled all over his body, and explained that, begging the gentleman’s pardon, he had not yet been paid. Carforth discharged the debt and dismissed the man with a goodnatured kick. That worthy bowed as if he would have broken his spinQ and thanked the gentleman effusively, both for the kick and the money. He was a most amiable man —too amiable by far to suit Carforth. As he walked his riksha out of the gate his very back seemed to giggle. Perhaps it was well for the public peace that Carforth did not see a pair of eyes which, for the next hour, were glued to a hole in the foliage, watching the English officer making love to the mous’me.

The riksha-man must have enjoyed himself hugely, for Carforth found his little friend quite an agreeable change, and courted her with all the power born of wide and diversified experience. Tt was merely what would have been called in England a “mild flirtation,” but had he known what an impression he had already made on O-Hana’s susceptible heart, probably he would not have gone so far.

Tn this way an hour passed. Yo-tembo-san returned, and Carforth transacted his business with him, while O-Hana sat in the shade, watching the young officer with her sad, Oriental eyes. When the discussion was finished. Yotembo left them, and Carforth said sayonara (good-bye) to O-Hana. and kissed her under the weeping bamboo tree. And O-Hana went to her room and prayed the Kami to protect the foreign gentleman and bring him again to her. For once the Kami was propitious. Next day saw Carforth again in the Japanese garden, taking tea with the daughter of Yotembo. And the next the same programme was enacted, and the next the same, and so on for some weeks. Little OHana’s life was one dream of innocent bliss, and Carforth himself wished there were no such things as English society and conventionality. He knew he was acting cruelly to the girl in fostering so vain an attachment. Time after time his conscience whispered “Go,” and time after time his heart whispered, “Another day, just another day.” So the parting was put off. and put off, and at each postponement the prospect of separation seemed harder, and meanwhile O-Hana dreamed, and loved, and was happy; and the foreign gentleman sank deeper and deeper into the tangle.

For fully a month Carforth and O-Hana forgot the rest of the world in their particular little fairy tale. Old Yotembo rubbed his fat hands with glee at the prospect of his daughter being married to an English officer, and when O-Sada-san and Danna-san called to pay their customary respects they met with a very chilling reception from the old man, O-Hana’s manner towards them was unchanged, except that she seemed a little more dreamy and gave still less attention than usual to their flattering conversation.

To her that one month was the sum of a separate existence, into which was concentrated more happiness than she had ever imagined. But, as the flower dies just when it is most beautiful, so the mous’ nie’s felicity was doomed to fall from its loftiest flight. When all her doubts and fears were beginning to disperse, and when the future seemed one glorious sunbeam, like a bolt from the blue came orders from England for Carforth’s ship to return. Twenty-four hours’ notice, then up anchors and away. That afternoon the officer did not pay his usual visit to the Japanese garden—he hadn’t the heart. Restless and moody, he wandered through the outskirts of the town —among the bamboo and the lacquer trees, among the pretty cardboard houses nestling in masses of foliage, among the cold white temples and the quiet burial-grounds, where the little idols kept their everlasting watch Over the graves.

His mind was in a tumult of emotion. That which he had been expecting for a month found him, when it came, totally unprepared. At times he would resolve, come what might, to marry the tender-hearted little mous’me who had so completely enslaved him. He knew it would have been the manlier part. Then his thoughts turned to his own country with its narrow prejudices, its stiff-backed customs, and he cursed himself for a wavering fool. Towards the evening, when the last crimson arrows of the dying sun tinged with blood the temple roofs.

and the gaunt shadows of the bamboo trees fell straight and long upon the ground, Carforth fouud himself again in the vicinity of Yotembo’s yasiki.

O-Hana was not in the garden. He inquired for her, and was told she was in her room paying her devotions to the Kami. He went up and found her on her knees praying in a broken, sobbing voice to her Japanese god. At the sound of his steps she sprang up and turned her tear-stain-ed face towards him.

“Ah! the Kami is good. Thou hast come. 1 feared thou hadst forgotten rhy little flower.”

Carforth was affected almost to tears at the sight of the girl's distress. He had only left her for a few hours; what would she say when she heard the tidings he brought? “ O-Hana,” he said at last, drawing the child towards him, “ why dost thou pt ay the Kami?”

O-Hana blushed and turned her head away. “ Tell me, little one, what was the subject of your prayers? ” “ O-Hana prayed the great Kami and the great Kobute to protect the foreign gentleman on the perfidious sea. For 1 know thou must some day go to thy distant land. But have prayed the Kami to watch over thee and bring thee back to me, never to go away again.” “ The time of our parting lias come already, O-Hana. The great queen calls me across the waters, and 1 must go back to England.”

“ I knew it, Ronald-san; 1 dreamt it rast night. But it will only be for a little while. Thou wilt go to thy great queen, and tell her that thou lovest Yotembo’s daughter; and she will say, ‘Go back to thy Japanese maiden and make her happy.” Then thou wilt come to me, wilt thou not, Runald-sau? and 1 will be thy wife, and love thee all my life, even until the Kami calls me.” And ihe foreign gentleman promised. What else could he do? The Bummer faded like a golden dream. Every morning the sun rose in the east, and every evening its burning globe sank into the western water, v, hither the mighty queen had called the English officer. Slowly and sadly old Father Time ground his everlasting wheel. Month after month, year after year passed by in dull monotony. Y’otembo died. O-Sada-san, Dannasan and Tama-ya, all married and were happy. Day by day O Hana sat by the margin of the sea, sweeping, with eager gaze, that misty line where the sky kisses the water, praying that the big ship which took away her lover would come again to Yokohama.

The young bamboo sprang up into a lofty ree; the little children became me and women; the tiny greystone ido... in the burial grounds grew more and more numerous; but the foreign gentleman came no more to the land of the rising sun; and at last the flower of Yokohama faded with the summer, and the Japanese garden knew her not.