A Dead Secret
Inamuraya Gensuké. He had a daughter called O-Sono. As she was very clever and
pretty, he thought it would be a pity to let her grow up with only such teaching
as the country-teachers could give her: so he sent her, in care of some trusty
attendants, to Kyôto, that she might be trained in the polite accomplishments
taught to the ladies of the capital. After she had thus been educated, she was
married to a friend of her father's family — a merchant named Nagaraya; — and
she lived happily with him for nearly four years. They had one child, — a boy.
But O-Sono fell ill and died, in the fourth year after her marriage.
On the night after the funeral of O-Sono, her little son said that his mamma had
come back, and was in the room upstairs. She had smiled at him, but would not
talk to him: so he became afraid, and ran away. Then some of the family went
upstairs to the room which had been O-Sono's; and they were startled to see, by
the light of a small lamp which had been kindled before a shrine in that room,
the figure of the dead mother. She appeared as if standing in front of a tansu,
or chest of drawers, that still contained her ornaments and her wearing-apparel.
Her head and shoulders could be very distinctly seen; but from the waist
downwards the figure thinned into invisibility; — it was like an imperfect
reflection of her, and transparent as a shadow on water.
Then the folk were afraid, and left the room. Below they consulted together; and
the mother of O-Sono's husband said:
"A woman is fond of her small things; and O-Sono was much attached to her belongings. Perhaps she has come back to look at them. Many dead persons will do that, — unless the things be given to the parish-temple. If we present O-Sono's robes and girdles to the temple, her spirit will probably find rest."
It was agreed that this should be done as soon as possible. So on the following
morning the drawers were emptied; and all of O-Sono's ornaments and dresses were
taken to the temple. But she came back the next night, and looked at the tansu
as before. And she came back also on the night following, and the night after
that, and every night; — and the house became a house of fear.
The mother of O-Sono's husband then went to the parish-temple, and told the
chief priest all that had happened, and asked for ghostly counsel. The temple
was a Zen temple; and the head-priest was a learned old man, known as Daigen
Oshô. He said: "There must be something about which she is anxious, in or near
that tansu." — "But we emptied all the drawers," replied the old woman; — "there
is nothing in the tansu." — "Well," said Daigen Oshô, "to-night I shall go to
your house, and keep watch in that room, and see what can be done. You must
give orders that no person shall enter the room while I am watching, unless I
call."
After sundown, Daigen Oshô went to the house, and found the room made ready for
him. He remained there alone, reading the sûtras; and nothing appeared until
after the Hour of the Rat*. Then the figure of O-Sono suddenly outlined itself
in front of the tansu. Her face had a wistful look; and she kept her eyes fixed
upon the tansu.
The priest uttered the holy formula prescribed in such cases, and then,
addressing the figure by the kaimyo** 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 Kyôto. But the priest alone knew what was in it; and the secret died
with him.
end...