utcry to their
gods. Here is not my rightful home. But around the coast two hours'
journey, is the little bay of Huapu where dwell some of my people who
have never given up their own customs, and there I am truly a high
chief, for my fathers used to rule over all the bays. Sweet are the
young cocoanuts of Huapu, and the mangoes and the wild plantains of the
hillside--sweet and mellow. There in the woods the moss grows deep and
soft for a couch, and for shelter are the broad leaves--for hearth the
great prostrate tree trunk that holds fire always in its heart. Like
mine--white star--like mine!

"Once I would not have ventured, Hokoolele. Once I looked at you from
afar, dreaming only of you as one who had dropped from the sky--so
different from my kind. But you are my life and the light of my life,
and I have touched you and found you real--strange and beautiful, but
real--

_"Bosom, here is love for you,
O bosom, cool as night!"_

He caught her hands in both of his.

"Come with me now, for always. I will take you away to the groves of
Huapu. There we will laugh and dance and sing all the day through, and I
will bring you water in a fern-leaf and weave you flower chains and
climb to pluck you the rarest fruits, and build a nest to keep you safe.
There you shall never be sad any more, or wearied, or lonely--or afraid.
Because I will be with you always, always--Hokoolele! Come with me
to-night!"...

Then the maiden soul of Miss Matilda was torn like a slender, upright
palm in the tropic hurricane, for a lover's arm was about her waist and
a lover's importunate breath against her cheek, and these things were
happening to her for the first time in her life.

"No--no, Motauri!" She struggled inexpertly, fluttering at his touch,
bathed in one swift flush. "My father--!" she gasped.

"What does it matter? Your father shall marry us any way he
pleases--afterward. But we will live in Huapu forever!"

And with a sudden dizzied weakening she saw that this was true and that
she had treasured the knowledge for this very moment. Her father would
marry them. He would marry them as he married Jeremiah's Loo and the
shell-buyer--"and only too thankful." Curious that the conventional fact
should have pleaded with the night's spiced fragrance, with the bland
weight of the island zephyr on her eyelids, with the vibrant contact of
young flesh and the answering madness in her veins. Curious, too, that
her dread and loathing of