Kaiuolani

Thus the new thought rooted and spread as Kaiuolani had foreseen and chosen. That the giant forces within its provisioned reach should drive and take where least resistance held, science clearly demonstrated. American, expansion throve and grew incarnate.

Young halted at the brink. Not to hear and heed, though the roar and din of ordination across the seas had warned him timely; nor as a test in the crucible of conscience, but Kaiuolani had bidden him do, and if she no longer bore any relations to his actions her words seered deeply the soul.

“I am destined leader,” said he, to the rallying elements, standing ready and observent, “and no sordid interests shall stay or deaden the wellspring of lofty citizenship. Rise Polynesia, courage countrymen, to establish and defend your home!”

They swore allegiance, and the frail Kaiuolani five thousand or more miles distant mocked defiantly the spirit wafting thither the message.

“Hang he shall!” declared she, boldly speeding toward her home, the land that he would claim as empire.

“You are my prisoner,” whispered Young, as the startled princess gravely tripped the gangplank at Honolulu, her chosen place of landing.

“Yours? No. And you are a vagabond, with neither heart nor hand; God forgave you the one, a power higher than man shall save me the other. Do you hear me?” replied Kaiuolani, with no thought of the consequences.

Self-accused and smote in will the strong man at last wavered, and chose to have done with strife; the trees, the birds, and the air around essayed to call forth freedom’s way—Kaiuolani’s eyes danced and freshened with the glow of inordinate being; but Norton saved him.

“Shackle her,” snarled the editress, confident in her hold upon escheated love.

Having come into their lives at sympathy’s door, none harbored feelings as dead or deeds as fickle as she. Kaiuolani had fallen at her rise, and the dip of exultation kindled hatred, like dregs fire an unsatisfied thirst.

“Shackle her!” repeated Norton, gloating to taunt an abused sister.

“No, no. I will not,” cried Young, pathetically.

Kaiuolani raised her eyes from the dread ground, whence she had fervently implored the spirit of old Kamehameha. Young flushed, and thwarted her gaze. She advanced and he backed.

“You are a coward and cannot,” said the princess, coldly cognizant.

“Then I shall,” replied Norton, unexpectedly authoritative. “Men, I command you: arrest this person and hold her prisoner at the palace.”

Cole forthwith very gladly and wisely sanctioned her commitment; whereupon the proud princess, overwhelmed and checked, was haled into a confinement that, strange to say, not only gave her the freedom of the one place she, most of all, just then sought, but brought her into an otherwise, at that time, impossible communication with the queen herself; Liliuokolani had sooner been—fortunately, as it proved to be—accorded a like untimely treatment.

The two women met, rejoiceful, and eager, but did not embrace.

Outside, a murky haze hung low, and thickened under apparent pressure; whence, none knew or questioned; but Liliuokolani’s eyes enlarged and peered significantly.

“Hearken, daughter!” whispered she, fearfully looking about, the while clasping tightly Kaiuolani’s two cold hands.

“Yes, aunty; there is a storm brewing; but God shall protect us.”

“Do you still—believe?”

“The times are ominous; yet—He is our saviour.”

“But the jewels are stolen. His coronet is gone. Our land trembles with profanity. The gods are disturbed!”

“Yes, dear; but our God, the one and only God of all gods, shall proclaim peace—in the great hereafter.”

“But now; Kaiuolani, now!”

“Faith, aunty; have faith.”

“In Kamehameha—at my age. Hero of battles, thunder your warnings; my trust is in Kileaua: no stain escapes there, and—Pele! O, Pele. Let me again behold your wonderful tresses. I feel them now, as combed in heaven. Pele!”

They sat quietly contemplating; the princess would not profane things picturing immortality, with any answer the world had yet seen fit to reveal. The gods now battled; and her idol lost consciousness in the splendors of an unrestrained conception. Kaiuolani drew close to the brink, awaiting breathlessly the light that should beacon her safely into the reach of a glorious past.

The heavens grew darker, and the atmosphere heavier. Everything seemed as if chained, and doomed to the treachery of fate. No man there could do or discern anything.

Presently the earth rocked, as if rent in two. The light flashed, sounds afar were heard distinctly, and every person and thing sprang up.

“It is true. I see with my eyes. God. Mauna-Loa. The Beautiful!” cried Kaiuolani, eagerly looking from the window, at the fire-lit skies around.

“My prayer is answered,” said Liliuokolani, “and I welcome Kileaua; would die to live again; sacrifice myself unto eternity; depart earth as the lowliest things are crystallized into rarest diadem. Let me go.”

The grandeur of a truly living present startled the stronger of the two into a secret consciousness of a dead and possible past. That all these things had subtilely and effectually borne their proper relation toward the ultimate regeneration and enlightment of man made the bare thought of present-day remission the more frightful; but the other one had lived out the fires of equanimity: the charred embers symbolized a deeper glow than reflected in merely the passing.

“No, no; you must not leave me; God can yet do quite well without you: I need you. Stay and encourage me—Kileaua is a hot place!”

“An old woman’s only consolation. Temporal sacrifice had been less trying. Faith, and want; hope, and serve; give, and—take what you can get, bids the new order. I should prefer more of liberty.”

“And if Kileaua made it possible, would you take it?”

“How can I? Men do with me as they like.”

“Look aunty; the gates are open, the guards fly; terror seizes even those who frown at things we know. God has answered your prayers: let us go.”

“No; I’ll not budge this place. You can fly, as you once did before. I am queen, and finite; God or republic.”

Kaiuolani forwith left the queen at her post,—consciousness told her she could avail nothing there,—and walked out, alone and unmolested; the old regime had failed her, but did more: it opened the way to present if not ultimate freedom.

Everywhere men hurried under shelter. Believers foretold the divine, and no Christian dared brave that catastrophe to barter with or hinder lowly man. The bars were thrown down, and everybody went his way, as an awakening god-self at last provisioned.

The natives—reclaimed by proof positive, as symbolized in a phenomenon openly witnessed—attributed the unexpected disaster solely to Young’s shortcomings. He had made himself god of them and theirs, and they held him alike responsible, be it volcano or misfortune that disturbed their peace.

The army mutinied; their commander’s display of weakness in the presence of Kaiuolani, the one person above any other, whom they feared, had shaken their confidence, and the demoralization and uncertainty attendant upon the withdrawal and denouncement of the native element lost him his grip: only for Cole’s timely interference, and the most heroic measures, Young’s whole force had disbanded.

The little republic of Hawaii, already tottering under the weight and influence of its creator’s unbridled aspirations, thus found itself suddenly confronted with a new and unthought problem. One that should sooner or later rent or strip it to the foundation: like the avalanche, rolling and beating toward its shores, so surely portended. Did they as men merit the conflict?