The priest uttered the holy formula prescribed in such cases, and then,
addressing the figure by the kaimyo [2] of O-Sono, said: -- "I have come
here in order to help you. Perhaps in that tansu there is something about
which you have reason to feel anxious. Shall I try to find it for you?" The
shadow appeared to give assent by a slight motion of the head; and the
priest, rising, opened the top drawer. It was empty. Successively he opened
the second, the third, and the fourth drawer; -- he searched carefully
behind them and beneath them;-- he carefully examined the interior of the
chest. He found nothing. But the figure remained gazing as wistfully as
before. "What can she want?" thought the priest. Suddenly it occurred to
him that there might be something hidden under the paper with which the
drawers were lined. He removed the lining of the first drawer:-- nothing!
He removed the lining of the second and third drawers:-- still nothing. But
under the lining of the lowermost drawer he found -- a letter. "Is this the
thing about which you have been troubled?" he asked. The shadow of the
woman turned toward him, -- her faint gaze fixed upon the letter. "Shall I
burn it for you?" he asked. She bowed before him. "It shall be burned in
the temple this very morning," he promised;-- "and no one shall read it,
except myself." The figure smiled and vanished.



Dawn was breaking as the priest descended the stairs, to find the family
waiting anxiously below. "Do not be anxious," he said to them: "She will
not appear again." And she never did.


The letter was burned. It was a love-letter written to O-Sono in the time
of her studies at Kyoto. But the priest alone knew what was in it; and the