Ancient Tales and Folk-Lore of Japan | Page 4

your
father in these matters, and prefer to disappear mysteriously. You are
welcome back, at all events.'
KÅnojÅ was astonished at this speech, and answered:
'But, sir, I have come to beg pardon for my sin.'
'What sin have you committed?' queried the samurai in great surprise,
and drawing himself up, in a dignified manner.
KÅnojÅ then gave a full account of his love-affair with O Kei. From
beginning to end he told it all, and as he proceeded the samurai showed
signs of impatience.
'Do not joke, sir! My daughter O Kei San is not a subject for jokes and
untruths. She has been as one dead for over a year--so ill that we have
with difficulty forced gruel into her mouth. Moreover, she has spoken
no word and shown no sign of life.'
'I am neither stating what is untrue nor joking,' said KÅnojÅ. 'If you
but send outside, you will find O Kei in the palanquin, in which I left
her.'
A servant was immediately sent to see, and returned, stating that there
was neither palanquin nor any one at the gate.
KÅnojÅ, seeing that the samurai was now beginning to look perplexed
and angry, drew the golden pin from his clothes, saying:
'See! if you doubt me and think I am lying, here is the pin which O Kei
told me to give you!'

'Bik-ku-ri-shi-ta-!'Â 1 exclaimed O Kei's mother. 'How came this pin
into your hands? I myself put it into Ko San's coffin just before it was
closed.'
The samurai and KÅnojÅ stared at each other, and the mother at both.
Neither knew what to think, or what to say or do. Imagine the general
surprise when the sick O Kei walked into the room, having risen from
her bed as if she had never been ill for a moment. She was the picture
of health and beauty.
'How is this?' asked the samurai, almost shouting. 'How is it, O Kei,
that you have come from your sickbed dressed and with your hair done
and looking as if you had never known a moment of illness?'
'I am not O Kei, but the spirit of O Ko,' was the answer. 'I was most
unfortunate in dying before the return of KÅnojÅ San, for had I lived
until then I should have become quite well and been married to him. As
it was, my spirit was unhappy. It took the form of my dear sister O Kei,
and for a year has lived happily in her body with KÅnojÅ. It is
appeased now, and about to take its real rest.'
'There is one condition, however, KÅnojÅ, which I must make,' said
the girl, turning to him. 'You must marry my sister O Kei. If you do this
my spirit will rest truly in peace, and then O Kei will become well and
strong. Will you promise to marry O Kei?'
The old samurai, his wife, and KÅnojÅ were all amazed at this. The
appearance of the girl was that of O Kei; but the voice and manners
were those of O Ko. Then, there was the golden hairpin as further proof.
The mother knew it well. She had placed it in Ko's hair just before the
tub coffin was closed. Nobody could undeceive her on that point.
'But,' said the samurai at last, 'O Ko has been dead and buried for more
than a year now. That you should appear to us puzzles us all. Why
should you trouble us so?'
'I have explained already,' resumed the girl. 'My spirit could not rest
until it had lived with KÅnojÅ, whom it knew to be faithful. It has

done this now, and is prepared to rest. My only desire is to see KÅnojÅ
marry my sister.'
Hasunuma, his wife, and KÅnojÅ held a consultation. They were quite
prepared that O Kei should marry, and KÅnojÅ did not object.
All things being settled, the ghost-girl held out her hand to KÅnojÅ
saying:
'This is the last time you will touch the hand of O Ko. Farewell, my
dear parents! Farewell to you all! I am about to pass away.'
Then she fainted away, and seemed dead, and remained thus for half an
hour; while the others, overcome with the strange and weird things
which they had seen and heard, sat round her, hardly uttering a word.
At the end of half an hour the body came to life, and standing up, said:
'Dear parents, have no more fear for me. I am perfectly well again; but I
have no idea how I got down from my sick-room in this costume, or
how it is that I feel so well.'
Several questions were put to her; but it was quite evident that O Kei
knew nothing of what had happened--nothing