Kaiuolani

Again freed from interruption, Bender resumed his seat and began, nervously, to twist at his short-cropped mustaches. The force necessary to carry out his plans had been effectively provided, and though reading correctly Harvenoiq’s intentions there seemed no need for worry on that score; for he well knew, as he believed, when and how the American minister’s personal ambitions must sooner or later end. No one foresaw better than he that everybody’s bounty from that intrigue depended wholly upon his individual manipulations, and in the midst of a multiplicity of cares one thing at a time were enough to master; therefore, the committee of safety at once absorbed his entire attention.

Would Varnum succeed at the chamber of commerce? If not, how might he abridge the need of an organization? Taking from its pocket the self-same watch that had measured out the long, vital moments of a hard-made career, his face colored in anger and the dry-parched lips inaudibly said:

“Curse disappointment! Give me subterfuge instead,” and the undaunted fellow reseated himself contentedly at the typewriter.

Presently a loud tramping in the hallway and hasty banging of doors announced the presence of an illy proposed confederate; Varnum had arrived, and all the building must know his mood; success with him meant enthusiasm for every one, and in he bounded regardless of consequences.

“Heavens, man, would you wake the dead to make known your secrets?” whispered the impatient Bender, as he ran forward, closing and barring the door.

Varnum stretched out his arms time and again, vainly attempting to ease the warmly protesting coat on his back, then burst out, with pent-up excitement:

“We’ve organized!”

“Who has organized?” gasped Bender, nervously seizing the winded banker’s fidgety hands and urging him to a seat in a hurried effort to quell the excitement.

“Why, Cole and I. Yes, we’ve organized: he’s chairman and I’m secretary.”

“Cole?—Cole?—Let’s see: you mean old missionary Cole, the retired justice of the supreme court, don’t you?” queried the other, a little in doubt as to the identity of his newly found prospective executive.

“Exactly so,” continued Varnum. “We’ve organized, and adjourned subject to call. There are three vacancies on the board, standing ready to fill, if deemed expedient—though two constitute a quorum. The salaries were fixed, and we are, it is needless to advise you, prepared——”

“For any emergency, I trow,” intercepted the surprised but gratified minister of finance.

“Yes, that’s it; no doubtful entanglements.”

“How is Cole; you sounded him, of course?”

“Oh he’s all right. The salary’s the thing.”

“I’ve noticed his run down appearance since Gutenborj threw him over.”

“Yes; hard pressed to keep the family from want. They’re quite shabby—we can count on him.”

“There. Give him that,” said Bender, tossing over a roll of bills; “and you, yourself, gaze upon this,” continued he, proffering a newly written note with Gutenborj’s supposed signature attached; “it will do your eyes good, and properly explained should materially strengthen Cole’s flabby backbone. Don’t neglect to impress our ‘chairman’ with the fact that Gutenborj is behind this business; and, now then, you had best hustle back to the chamber of commerce, collar Cole, and hold yourselves ready at the committee room; I shall advise you what and how at an opportune time. Go.”

With unbounded lust centered about so small a nucleus and supported with only a doubtful makeshift the mind waxed clear and an undaunted nerve drove him to the verge of desperation. Having carried every point that signified, overcome each obstacle as it arose, he would yet sacrifice manhood to save a conflict, to shield cowardice; the thought of bloodshed sickened him, and gain the goal he must—Bender knew of only one expedient.

Kaiuolani must sue for a respite, and her hand seemed not too great a price. Her kingdom as a dowery should pay him for the subtle overthrow of Liliuokolani: the national guard brought over to his support by the timely acquiescence of the princess must resolve a salutary ending, even to Harvenoiq’s resourceful dreams. The father must be made the means of reaching her heart, and with rising hope the conscience-hardened victim quietly slipped the cover on his desk and gratefully stole away.

The stealthy wending of a deserted street, round one side of the procession that guilelessly formed, and a lively, undiscovered jaunt toward Castle Banyan, in the distance, roused fresh determination, and before the gate was reached an overweaning desire urgently matured a hastily devised plan. There remained no question as to what he should demand, nor how best to proceed; Sir Charles possessed a reasoning mind and felt keenly the future of his daughter; the princess worshipped her father, and of necessity should so forget herself as to assume the responsibility of any favorable reconciliation. He would reveal so much of the situation as to convince the one: the other must of her own volition grasp the possibilities of an effective alliance. He alone held the key; Sir Charles’s sensible influence and Kaiuolani’s impetuous disposition should accelerate the desired result; hope alone conjured the certain approach to a hitherto doubtful success.

Riding through the gate and along a winding, coral-surfaced driveway the bare thought of prospective inheritance inspired the spirit of real actuality. The crooked, pinched form vainly straightened in the stirrups and from those over-hung, glancing eyes there for once shone the fire of conviction. Passing the entrance with a haughty indifference and careless flourish of the whip the scarcely tolerable official sprang to the flagstone and briskly ran up the marble stairs.

“Your card, sir,” demanded the reverend page, in opposing a deliberate, unbidden entrance.

“Stand aside, flunkey; it is I, your—oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Hislop. How thoughtless of me! Please inform your honorable master that our humble minister begs an audience. Important, parson—the times are exacting: not so fruitful as in the good old missionary days, you know. There, now,” replied Bender, discreetly; afterwards—as the white haired pensioner disappeared under the pain of started tears—muttering:

“How changed!”

Respectfully entering as bidden and accepting a proffered seat the uninvited fellow looked eagerly round at the high, frescoed ceilings and long pillared corridors. A rising sense of the ridiculous gradually possessed him. The significant friezes, the decorated walls, the carved panels, the set floors suddenly contrasted with the airy freedom of the mountains. For the moment his spirit bended under the weight of an awe inspiring something that seemed to call him thither; carried him away to the rambling voice of the wild; laid bare the secret bounds of a God-given temper, but directly the welkin of Kaiuolani’s voice rang temptingly through the vibrant halls that other self seized him like a vise gripping an imprisoned part.

Bender answered to all that is human. The soul claimed him, and urged him on toward the reach that makes, that separates the one from the other, and marks the limit of man’s endeavor.

Sir Charles came down to greet him; he had just left the floor above, where Kaiuolani stood, the admired of a coterie of friends, most of all her father. Uena-O-Zan, her maid, had straightened a last fold in the long habit that she should that day wear at the head of the Royal Daughters, and was ever time too precious?

“Superb,” was the father’s verdict, and a chatter of more versatile voices pronounced him scant in his praise.

“It is the dearest thing imaginable, and so becoming! You just look too sweet for anything. How I envy you, Kaiuolani. Everybody shall fall at your feet to-day. We shall all feel so proud—don’t you think so, Mr. Pauahieu?” said a voice, who had come in for a very different purpose, but under the stress of fortune could not resist.

Coming down the stairs Sir Charles’s pride in his achievements and concern for his offspring brought the glow to his cheeks. This world seemed to him the very best that could be, and with orderly progression—as to him the events of the day foretold—every man must partake in a measured round of succession the joys and sorrows justly and inevitably apportioned. No such thing as the denial of others to gratify self had ever entered there. The lover of the hearthstone and the administrator of truth did not despise a false ambition, for such a thing remained foreign to his understanding; and upon proffering his hand to a man whom their country had honored, and trusted, it was with that underlying confidence that real brotherhood must necessarily beget.

“Good-morning, Mr. Bender. I am delighted to see you. Can I be of service?” said he, approaching and extending both hands.

The greeting, so unconcerned and gentle, encouraged the designing minister with every conceivable energy except the one which had driven him thither; and in the presence of an unexpected dilemma he stood mute and motionless, unable to collect his thoughts or dispel the mood that disturbed his poise.

“I ran in hurriedly to discuss an important matter, Mr. Prentiss, but under the stress of circumstances I seem unable agreeably to broach the subject; the environment does not augur success,” stammered he, inadvertently.

“Oh, ho; how so; my good Bender? I regret exceedingly that a friend should feel the least discomfiture in my house. Please disclose at once the source of your embarrassment; my encouragement may assist somewhat in restoring at least a partial equanimity. Do me the honor to try, my worthy neighbor,” replied Sir Charles, without manifesting the least perturbation.

“An easy mark,” thought Bender, under the impulse of the moment; “why should I stand here like the fool that I am? He is only a piece of clay, after all: subservient to the rule of individualism, like all other men; these works of his are but the product of universal endeavor, and why should I hesitate to appropriate when producers are loath to keep? I’ll proceed with the business, at once.”

“Come into the study, Mr. Prentiss;—excusing the impudence;—it is a serious matter that I wish to discuss—one that affects us all alike and, I’ll predict you’ll grant, demands strict secrecy.”

“Pardon me, Mr. Bender, for not anticipating your pleasure; though I promise there is none here who would disdain to conserve an interest or abuse a privilege. Let us proceed thither—I should have formally proposed.”

They ambled along quietly over the hard, mosaic floors, the one’s mind cogitating the mystery of so unseasonable a visit, the other’s prospects rising by leaps and bounds. Bender was fast approaching that stage of quest where expectation heeds not defeat. Kaiuolani and position must be his. The merrymaking from above had suddenly ceased; all became strangely quiet within the great walls, and only the imagination swayed or encouraged a thought. They had passed through the high, over-domed archway and stood facing each other before the great mantle that sparkled with the heatless glow of a small make-believe log fire. The little, ungainly dwarf, drawing himself up to the full height of his cramped, crooked form, looked furtively past the big, whole-souled man that he faced; then softly but surely the long and ponderous draperies at a convenient side entrance slightly parted, and Martha Norton again confronted her victim. A cold chill ran through him, and for want of Sir Charles’s assistance he had fallen to the floor.

“Excuse me, Mr. Bender; I have been waiting for only a word with Mr. Prentiss, and I know you will pardon a woman’s simplicity: I shall engage him but a moment—and, in fact, it is not at all undesirable that you, yourself, should be present. May I have the pleasure, good sir?” said she, kindly, and without showing the least uneasiness.

Bender, quickly regaining his breath, turned upon her and—the fire flashing underneath his shaggy eyebrows—fairly hissed with deliberate wrath:

“Curse you!”

“I beg your pardon,” stammered Sir Charles, overcome with surprise and burdened with suspense. “My friend Bender, you forget yourself. It is a lady you address; an apology is due.”

“Never!” shouted he, with the rage of a defeated and driven animal. “I am master of my own inclinations. You are at liberty to resolve the appropriateness of my speech. I’ll pursue my own chosen course. Good-day, sir.”

The dumfounded host stood gasping for breath as Bender mounted his horse and tore down the road, his one arm akimbo and the other dangling at a loose-drawn rein.

Norton barely excused herself with the assurance that time had best reveal the good faith of an unpardonable behavior and that her presence at another place now became a most urgent necessity.

“Please, Mr. Prentiss—I shall not ask your forgiveness; I am not worthy such confidence, and plead only for time—I must go,” said the hard-pressed woman; who, without further adieu or explanation, ran from the house and entering a waiting carriage drove frantically away.

Seating himself at the one high, sun-awned window Prentiss looked down through the long, widening valley and out over the broad, coral-reefed plain to the dark still ocean in the distance. For a mile or more the soft green of the hilled-up pineapple contrasted in long straight rows with the dark golden earth between; loosing their identity in the mottled irregular kalo and rice patches of the populace beyond. From early manhood he had looked upon that self-inspiring scene, revelling in the peace and content of an honored citizenship. Should he at last be drawn into the holocaust of ambition’s seductive gripe?

Only a child wrought the transformation: an offspring sucked up the waning energies of a well-balanced life, as self asserts the rising and our fellow men command the noontide. Prentiss but answered to the voice of God and resolved inevitably and irrevocably the world-exacting sacrifice. Rising from the chair and turning to call an only child—his eyes moistened with gratification; she had involuntarily appeared, and quietly approaching stood silently over him.

“What a comfort, Kaiuolani! and so considerate. I could not bear the burden except for you,” said he, stooping to ease an overtaxed brow upon her ready and willing shoulder.

“What is it, papa? Some great trouble bears heavily upon your mind. Am I doing wrong?—I shall give up the parade if it is not quite proper. Please tell me, dear father.”

“No, daughter; it is with gladness that I am moved. I would see you at the side of Aokahameha—a man whose ambitions rise above sordid realities. Kiss me, darling child, and I shall be comforted. I, an old man, am of right a beggar.”

“There, papa,” replied Kaiuolani, raising her lips and throwing her arms round his neck; “you shall never, never need ask again.”

“Nor have I needed; you are a good, good little daughter, and I shall indulge your utmost desires.”

“I should prize more your advice—how about a husband?—It seems I am doomed!”

“Not so, but privileged; there appears to be no end of opportunity.”

“But the choice: that is the secret.”

“Quite true, Kaiuolani; though the better life rather makes toward serving one’s welfare. Let worthiness precede our sensibilities. Your judgment alone can determine the necessities.”

Meditating a little the reason of his logic, and feeling directly the responsibility resting upon her, Kaiuolani looked fondly up and whispered:

“Trust me, father; you shall be happy.”

The princess rose before him, satisfying and immortal. The weal and the woes of humanity were as tinder amid the crash of individualism. No atonement seemed too great to make, not a desire unworthy or a gulf impossible in the waging of an ordered supremacy. Kaiuolani’s frail form trembled momentarily with the force of sudden conviction; the crucial test had come: it left her not as it found her, and all the pain of subjection or the bitterness of disappointment could not stay the doing; a subtler charm must inevitably hold to reveal the divine, make toward perfection, resolve the end.