the innermost place of a citadel built of ancient beliefs and
traditions.

Out of the unchecked flood of denunciation, I learned that he held
Christianity responsible for his woes. I, as a believer and an American,
must hear what he thought; as his friend I must advise him if I could.

In the twenty years that I had known the school superintendent, he had
always been reserved regarding his personal and family life. To me his
home was a vague, blurred background in which possible members of his
family moved. He surprised me this day by referring in detail to the
bitter grief which had come to him in years gone by through his only
child.

I had heard the story outside, but not even remotely had Kishimoto San
ever before hinted that he possessed a child. I knew his need for help
must be imperative, that the wound was torn afresh, else he was too good
a Buddhist to make "heavy the ears of a friend" with a recital of his
own sorrows.

He said he had been most ambitious for his daughter. Years ago he had
sent her to Yokohama to study English and music. While there the girl
lived with his sister who had absorbed many new ideas regarding liberty
for women. Once he was absent from Japan and without his knowledge the
girl married an American artist, Harold Wingate by name, and went with
him to his country to live.

Kishimoto San had not seen her since her marriage until lately. He had
honorably prayed that he never would. Some weeks before she had returned
to Hijiyama practically penniless, which was bad, and a widow, which