On the next day, therefore, the frail Kinsan with downcast eyes and haggard appearance was turned loose in the back grounds of her master's dwelling, there to carry, day and night, through rain or sunshine, the heavy stocks, clasped about her neck and weighted upon her tender shoulders.
And there, taunted and alone, she bore her punishment without a murmur, and sinking exhausted at night always offered prayers for the one she loved, and for those whom she believed she had wronged and who had in charity granted her the privilege of even such an existence. Having already suffered in her own heart far more than death, now that the day's penalty had been imposed, she felt better able to bear her part; and was glad for life, though bitter it be, that she might atone for the wickedness with which she unknowingly held herself charged.
Nor did she suffer only from the weight of the stocks, but often felt that she must starve for want of food, and her mouth parched and tongue swelled, for by reason of the wide board she could neither feed herself nor raise water to her lips, though a crystal stream sparkled and flowed at her feet, where she would often stand and look until she fell faint, and almost envied the little birds that came and drank, then perched upon the plank at her neck and sang songs to her and hopped about with glee. The sun shone hot or the storm beat hard upon her; the flies and gnats pestered her, and often when she could no longer resist sleep the rats and vermin climbed upon the wide board, and she would take fright and arouse to prevent their gnawing at her face. And once, while exhausted with hunger and faint with thirst, Nehachibana came up to her and mocked her and gave her red peppers to eat and threw water at her feet, then ran away.
All this Kinsan suffered until about to despair, when a little friend came to her,--it was the daughter of Mrs. Lindley the missionary,--after which she had regular food and drink, and felt thankful, though it was scant and strangely prepared. The jeers of the children did not provoke her and she bore all the cruelties without a protest; and at night the doleful sound of the massagist's whistle kept her company--stealing along the streets, plying his blind, nocturnal trade. And then she would sleep and dream of the cave up yonder on the hillside not far away and of the days when she gave her heart in truth and builded her faith upon hope alone.