e ultimate sources. She could never have felt so
toward any of the mission converts, with their woolen shirts and their
shoes of ceremony, their hymns and glib, half-comprehended texts; with
the fumbling thumb-marks of civilization on their souls. Motauri had
never submitted to the first term of the formula. Motauri followed the
old first cult of sea and sun, of whispering tree and budding flower. He
was the man from the beginning of things, from before Eden; and she who
carried in her starved heart the hunger of the first woman--she loved
him.

She sank to her knees on the veranda edge above him there and leaned
forward with clasped hands to see the soft glow in his deep-lashed eyes,
the glint of his even teeth; to catch the sweet breath of jasmine that
always clung about him.

"Motauri--" she said, in the liquid tongue that was as easy to her as
her own, "I am afraid. Oh, I am--I am afraid!"

"What should you fear? I have promised nothing shall hurt you. The
jungle is my friend."

"It is not that. I fear my father, Motauri--and--and that man--Gregson."

She could see his smile fade in the moonlight. "The trader?" he said.
"Very many fear him. But he is only a cheat and an oppressor of poor
people with things to sell and to buy. What has the trader to do with
you?"

"He knows--I am sure he knows about us," she breathed. "He knows. Even
now he may be watching--!"

Hurriedly she told him of the day's strange development, of her father's
sudden friendship with the powerful white man and Gregson's crafty,
malicious hints.

* * * * *

"I do not know what he means to do, but for you and for me this is the
end, Motauri," she said, wistfully. "I dare not see you any more--I
would not dare. It is not permitted, and I am frightened to think what
might happen to you. You must go away quickly." Her timid fingers rested
on his close, wavy locks, all crisped and scented with the juice of the
wild orange. "It is finished, Motauri," she sighed. "This is the end."

But Motauri's mouth had set, his boyish brows had coiled and firmed, and
his glance was bright. He drew closer to her with a lithe movement.

"This is the end?" he echoed. "Then I know how. White star of the
night--listen to me now, for I have seen how it must end. Yes--I have
known this would come....

"Here in Wailoa you behold me one apart, because I do not seek to do as
the white men, or kneel in their temple, or make empty o