until she reached the open door of the great silent temple.

The faint light of the early morning had scarce penetrated the shadows
that clung about the gorgeous hangings and rich symbols of this
ancient place of worship. A white-robed priest, oblivious to all save
his own meditations, paid little heed to the childlike figure as it
knelt before the cold, calm, unchanging image of the great Buddha.

For a moment Yuki San moved her lips. Still kneeling, she drew from
her sash the red _furoshike_ and took from it a small morocco
note-book.

With light steps she crossed to a brazier, and with a pair of small
tongs lifted from it a glowing coal. With steady fingers she pushed
aside the many sticks of incense in the great brass vessel before the
shrine, and making a little grave among the ashes, she laid within the
burning coal the little book.

The blue smoke, rising slowly, hung for a moment above the girl's head
as a halo, then rose to the feet of Buddha as in supplication for
mercy, and was finally lost in the darkness of the heavy roof.

The girl watched with wide eyes and parted lips. Clasping her hands,
she lifted her face and from her heart came a fervent, whispered
prayer.

"I make empty my heart of all wicked. Buddha or Christians' God, I no
can know which. Please the more better speak into my lonely life the
word of peace."