Kaiuolani

Presently the princess came and sat by the side of her aunt, the queen. Ihoas bowed herself away and as quickly disappeared below, where she sought relief and opportunity in the crowded garden. She had a duty to perform, and though her position must be an embarrassing one, her appearance could but arouse interest, invoking both happiness and hope.

On the steps at the veranda in front Ihoas met Aokahameha accompanied by Colonel Young; they had disposed of their commands at the armory and returned to pay respects and join in the festivities at the villa. The one tall, dark and austere: the other slight, fair and genteel, they doffed their helmets to the stately princess as she met and congratulated them upon the events of the day. There was indeed a wide contrast between the old-time feats of chivalry, as exemplified in the one, and the modern heraldic display, underlying the martial supremacy of the other; yet Ihoas was brave, and with her memory running back and her heart yearning for still another she made no distinction, greeting them alike with a heartiness that bespoke neither preference nor prejudice. Perhaps Floyd Young may have conjured a distrust in her composure, but he became quite undeceived as to his comrade’s position, for the young prince unconsciously betrayed the secret of his love.

Designing not to intrude upon good will, Young withdrew and sauntered into the midst of the gayety on the lawns. Not a few offered words of felicitation as the deserving young officer passed on, addressing this one or recognizing that one, but none seemed to express more than passing interest in what he had hoped to be the most successful military parade the little kingdom had seen. The seeming indifference stung him sharply, but he remembered that this was the queen’s day, however loyal the opposition, and acting in obedience to natural impulse turned toward the portico where his eyes met fairly those of the princess, Kaiuolani.

The dazzling garnishments of his regalia glittered in the sunlight and heightened the sparkle in Kaiuolani’s eyes as he bowed and turned to shake the hand of Mr. Elmsford—Oscar Donworth Elmsford—a discarded English duke, an artist by profession, but at that time a resident manager who stood high in social circles at the capital city, Honolulu.

A frown crossed the queen’s brow; she had witnessed the glance of recognition, which had so inadvertently passed between the two, and as quickly engaged the princess in conversation. Young did not observe the apparent change in her majesty’s countenance, but continued talking to his neighbor, Elmsford, till presently Ihoas again came upon the scene of his discomfiture.

This faithful intermediary had had her say with Aokahameha, and left him standing in the shade of the veranda, debating whether to follow and press his claim for a true love or go above and encourage a false one. He had understood Ihoas’s warning only too well, but for that did not believe her lost to him,—although she had positively declared her preference for the man that she was at that very moment approaching,—and as to Kaiuolani: she was entirely too frolicsome for him, and he doubted even her aunt’s ability to govern her decision in any manner, much less about a thing so vital as that of marriage. The sudden turn of affairs disturbed but did not overwhelm the puzzled man, who stood momentarily debating his proper course, then entered the house and ascended the stairs.

Turning, Young again paid his respects to the designing Ihoas. A slight flush perceptibly reddened his face. A new thought possessed him; he would use her to relieve himself and disarm others as to the possible thought of any rising intimacy with Kaiuolani.

Barely granting Ihoas an opportunity to recognize the artist manager, whom she had grown to love with a passion characteristic only of her race, Young said, banteringly:

“You do me undeserved honor, in granting me this the second opportunity to greet you this morning. Will you join me while paying respects to Sir Charles, the princess Kaiuolani’s father? He is over there, in the shade of the old historic palm—let us go.”

The thought of arousing Kaiuolani’s jealousy suddenly flashed into Ihoas’s mind. Possibly she may have divined a submerged interest in herself, lurking in the colonel’s motive: if so, she was mistaking; withal her dignified bearing and noble sentiment, Floyd Young at heart preferred another kind of quest. And when he really led her away his only purpose augured of the subtle art of diplomacy. His every hope was founded upon the progress of events, and from the time he had landed in Honolulu—an ambitious but penniless youth, from far distant New York, a recent graduate from Columbia, educated in the law and honorably discharged from the State militia—his advance had been due to his sterling grasp with opportunity, his ideals founded upon what he believed to be the ultimate decree of human greatness—the military strength of a country, the force behind the throne and the arbiter of God’s eternal law. Love, with him, was an essential trait of manly existence, but its rite should be more: marriage must be made the stepping-stone to a broader usefulness, used to round out a sphere in which man attains his noblest virtue, serves in the molding and wielding of destiny.

A union with the heir apparent would strengthen his position and open the way to a larger development, but the time had not yet come nor was it advisable upon this occasion to publish even the possibility of so daring a prospect. If he could only check the impetuous princess, and confuse the minds of others, by paying some unusual attention to Ihoas, he should gain a positive advantage; so he led the advance adroitly, and his willing victim—of the same mind, but with a different end in view—assisted in the ruse with all the grace and likelihood at her disposal.

“By jove,” said the surprised Englishman, to himself, as the others walked away; “she has cut me cold! I wonder if she really means it? I hope so, at all events. I can’t stand her pose: it lacks in perspective. Besides, a respite would give me the chance to trim my sails for a more likely princess.”

Elmsford once more shifted positions, always keeping himself in the open and within sight of the portico, frequently adjusting his eyeglass and vainly assuming a bearing strictly in accord with his shrivelled dignity. His robust figure and odd mannerism finally attracted the queen’s attention, causing her to remark, pleasantly:

“I wonder who is the guest in fancy dress? He seems to be always looking this way!”

“Oh, that is Mr. Elmsford—the gentleman papa has given the privilege of doing my portrait in oil. He is really an interesting character; and, they say, of the English nobility. We shall, no doubt, see more of him before the day is out,” said Kaiuolani, in her characteristically careless way.

“I trust not; at least, until after the leis” (a kind of ceremony, at which the victor in the games—formerly literally, but at that time figuratively—was crowned with a garland by the queen of flowers, usually a chosen princess). “Any sort of a coxcomb from over there becomes a gentleman immediately he is stranded upon our shores. I am very weary of it all,” replied the queen, with emphasis.

“But, aunty, they are so nice; and then, you know, the ‘foreigners’ have given us so much of civilization—they say, all that we have,” continued the princess, innocently.

“They say so; but, I vow, we have not gained so very much. There was far more contentment and much less distress before they set their treacherous feet upon our sacred soil. Excuse me, dear; I should not talk like that; but, I cannot help giving vent to my feelings, at times,” said Liliuokolani, proud, and unable to restrain the deep and abiding sorrow that welled up from her hard-tried benevolence.

“Never mind, aunty; everything will in time come out for the best. We all love you, and will comfort you, no matter what the consequences,” said Kaiuolani, moved with natural sympathy.

“I do wish that Aokahameha would come; we can trust him, and he is such a noble man. I should choose him to others less qualified if more pretentious,” answered the queen, guardedly concerned as to Kaiuolani’s attitude.

The princess did not answer, but her thoughts went out, in a myriad aspects, to the crowning event of the day. It had of right fallen to her to place the braided wreath upon the brow of a chosen champion, and there arose no question in her mind as to the choice she should make, yet the pathos of her majesty’s situation appealed momentarily to Kaiuolani’s sympathy. Judgment seemed a thing quite foreign to her temperament, and she sat battling between love and affection till presently Aokahameha walked into their presence, bidding both a friendly good-morning.

Kaiuolani brightened. It mattered not so much who the visitor might be, just so his coming brought new interest; for remaining there on that portico, alone with her aunt, on so delectable a morning, amid such a host of admirers, became almost unbearable.

“I am so glad you came, Aoka—aunty and I were this moment talking about you—the parade was just lovely—how I do admire the—horses!” said Kaiuolani, without stopping to regain her breath or divine the effect of her speech.

“The prince deserves our compliments,” said the queen, quickly and earnestly.

“Thank you,” replied he, bowing.

Perhaps Aokahameha’s unsympathetic answer caused her majesty to hesitate further conversing,—Kaiuolani waited for him to introduce a more inviting subject,—and the prince, glad that the queen had stopped short of then and there betrothing them, the hapless culprits, leaned against the railing and pondered anxiously an incident accidentally noticed while approaching.

On reaching the top of the stairs, having trod softly over the noiseless carpet, the prince had involuntarily hesitated before entering the boudoir, through which he must pass to gain access to the portico, and observed through the wide open door one of her majesty’s ladies in waiting hidden behind the folds of the drapery, overhanging the exit, and within convenient hearing distance of Kaiuolani and the queen.

The recognition, instantaneous and unpleasant as it proved to be, was mutual, and Martha Norton, flushed and confused, tried as best she could to divert attention by pretending to have been arranging Liliuokolani’s private writing table, the most convenient if suspicious article at hand. Aokahameha paused suddenly, then recovering himself walked in and through the room to the portico in front without manifesting the slightest concern or pretending to notice the surprised woman’s unbecoming act. The unexpected meeting, however, though to neither of them no more disconcerting than pleasing, revealed to him a pressing danger.

He said nothing about the circumstance, nor tried to elicit the purport of a conversation that an enemy had evidently overheard, but so lost himself in studied contemplation that his anxious hostess directly suffered more discomfiture at his silence than she could have done from a complete revelation of the occurrence.

Discovered, the listening attendant quickly withdrew and sought her confidant, among the guests below. The sharp-visaged spinstress had not long to search, for Xane Bender, eager and cunning, awaited her coming at a secluded place in the background. His dark brow and sunken form fairly writhed in distress, when the spying emissary reported the queen’s conversation and predicted that Kaiuolani would place the crown upon Aokahameha’s brow.

“They are a treacherous lot, these dusky Islanders; the old scapegrace as good as promised that I should be selected by that rattle-headed flirt, whose Scotch cross with a Polynesian ape entitles her to so pretentious a claim. I will have her, by G——d: Xane Bender shall not be trifled with!” hissed the maddened man, his foul teeth showing white, while clenching nervously his one deformed fist and glancing with furtive eyes from under a stooped and tortuous posture.

“I would advise that you hold your temper; this is not an agreeable time or place for the making of idle accusations. What care we for their descent or protestations? It is success that we covet: we should rather use our wit than lose it,” said the wily Norton, with biting emphasis.

“D——d harlot; accursed woman; you would chide me now, that you think Young is safe. I’ll beat your game to a standstill, see you in hades, shorn of the last pretence, before I go down to defeat, alone and single handed. The princess shall marry me, then you can the better victimize the colonel; though little worth he is, I assure you,” said her tormentor, with curled-up lip and sarcastic voice.

“Take care, Xane Bender; I have a hand yet to play, that you little suspect. And if you press me—beware——”

“Strumpet! Adventuress! Why should I press anybody? Have I not given you honor, position, influence—all that you possess? Whose money——”

“Why, good-morning, Mr. Bender. I see that you are very delightfully engaged with my most worthy assistant. I trust that I am not intruding—am I?” said a mild, effeminate voice, as a jolly, whole-souled Progressionist bobbed round the bush, discovering them, as he thought, in the very act of love-making.

“Good-morning, Mr. Wayntro. Good-morning, sir! I hope you are both well and happy this morning. Miss Norton and I, as you see, were just having a little pleasantry; discussing the social side of the function—not for publication, of course—the good lady journalist is too considerate for that—but only in a friendly way—as we are often wont to do, at an aside from the constant crush of congratulatory friends,” replied the designing Bender, with changed expression and fawning politeness.

“I vow: I myself found their lavishments somewhat depressing,” answered the interloping newspaper man, quite boastfully.

“Mr. Bender has been very kind to me, and I hardly know how I should have survived the morning had it not been for his timely attention,” proffered the good Miss Norton, without any apparent recollection of what had sooner taken place.

George Wayntro was the sometime founder and at that auspicious moment proprietor of the Ware Wizzard Wise, the newspaper of the place, independent as professed but Progressionist by accident; and Miss Martha Norton, a still later importation from America, had by stint of endeavor and the help of Bender risen on the staff from local reporter to chief assistant editor. Her word bore much weight with the would-be brilliant proprietor; and in consideration of the many “turns” she had done her friend Bender, that crafty fellow had forced the lady editor’s claims also in other directions; at least to the extent of wresting from the queen herself the illy deserved social distinction his calculating accomplice then enjoyed: that of a lady in waiting—by courtesy if not in reality.

The three immediately sauntered into the open, where shortly they came upon Colonel Young and the Princess Ihoas, who sat conversing pleasantly with the Honorable Sir Charles Stuart Prentiss,—president of the local foreign club, and the Princess Kaiuolani’s father,—a retired Scotch gentleman and an early settler in the Islands.

Here they were received with civility, if not politeness; though Young was not at all friendly in spirit, and as to the rest there seemed nothing in common between them. No one took the pains to arise at their coming, and they stood around coldly chatting until presently Aokahameha and the princess were seen approaching. Kaiuolani’s presence upon the lawn became the signal for others to move in that direction, and by the time she had reached her father’s side a semicircle was formed and all waited anxiously, with the queen in the distance, the coming event of the day’s festivities.

The happy-go-lucky princess tripped lightly to the front—perhaps a secret motive impelled the mood: more likely the heart laid bare its yearning—and taking up the floral wreath, which had been intrusted to her father’s keeping, she looked all round, from one to another, her eyes betraying only love,—though the hand battled against indecision,—and as by chance raised the leis above the blushing Young, saying with a voice sweetly revealing the soul’s gratitude:

“With this frail token, an emblem, I crown you victor—the people’s sacred choice, a hero, the queen’s righteous defense.”

The colonel’s voice failed him. He loved Kaiuolani with virtue and in truth, but the soul revealed a message sweeter than affinity. He would have undone the wrong had he possessed the power, torn her love girdle into shreds and thrown it at her feet would that have released him and saved her. Deep in his heart he felt the sincerity of her rash act, and with his eyes discerned a thousand hands raised to strike that she had deigned to venture, yet in the face of positive decision he remained absolutely helpless. He would do battle with the giants, but a woman’s way for the moment undid him.

A smile brightened Aokahameha’s countenance as he caught the retreating glance of Ihoas, whose face grew cold with pallor; she divined better than he the strength of Liliuokalani’s purpose, and the secret underlying the composure of Kaiuolani; who, stung with the blush of bewilderment, turned to her father to escape the confusion of faces surrounding them.