slowly recovering, but still very weak, when he unexpectedly received another visit from Yamamoto Shijō. The old man made a number of plausible excuses for his apparent neglect. Shinzaburō said to him:—
“I have been sick ever since the beginning of spring;—even now I cannot eat anything. . . . Was it not rather unkind of you never to call? I thought that we were to make another visit together to the house of the Lady Iijima; and I wanted to take to her some little present as a return for our Kind reception. Of course I could not go by myself.”
Shijo gravely responded,—
“I am very sorry to tell you that the young lady is dead.”
“Dead!” repeated Shinzaburō, turning white,—“did you say that she is dead?”
The doctor remained silent for a moment, as if collecting himself: then he resumed, in the quick light tone of a man resolved not to take trouble seriously:—
“My great mistake was in having introduced you to her; for it seems that she fell in love with you at once. I am afraid that you must have said something to encourage this affection—
