Kaiuolani

With the passage of the bill, the old regime, of cat-hauling and graft-taking, which had for so long a time disturbed their peace and threatened dire disaster, bade fair to become a derelict. The thankless greed of political tricksters and the benevolent craft of suckling kings was in one short session wiped from the governmental chessboard. The ancient constitution, the glory of the Kamehamehas, had been reclaimed; and forthwith, in modernized form, Liliuokolani undertook its promulgation.

The work laid before the legislature had been carried through swiftly and according to agreement; Bender did as he had bargained to do; so had the queen kept her word, to the letter: the new cabinet confirmed, thereat,—upon the dismissal of the old one,—included Xane Bender, Minister of Finance, and nobody there, excepting Varnam and his clique of interlopers, at that time regretted the circumstance.

True the newly recognized leader had come into their midst, only a few years theretofore, a stranger and without taking the pains to make known his antecedents or the place whence he came. Old man Qualb, the hermit cattle king, on the south side of Hawaii island, had taken him in, at his coming, presumably a tramp, and given him employment. Only a few years elapsed (during which time the transformed vagrant faithfully attended his benefactor’s herds) till Bender, designing and shrewd, seemed to have convinced the aged rancher of a blood relationship,—that of a nephew in uncertain degree,—and had become, by some secret influence, his sole legatee; whereupon the aged recluse obscurely died, and the nervy young man suddenly possessed himself of the uncounted herds and abundant treasure that roamed the slopes of Mauna-Loa or lie hidden in the caves of Kileauea.

A bold stroke this seemed to some, good business to others; and, perhaps, even Gutenborj may have inwardly preferred a man at the head of a depleted national treasury who could do things. At all events no protest was made against the new minister’s entering into the discharge of his duties, and as to the past it might never have been known, or concerned anybody, in a land where neighbors are loath to question methods, had not fate followed him and in time laid bare the well guarded secret.

The last of the Kalakaua cabinets, composed entirely of designing foreigners, had been dismissed and in its stead the new one—a compromise, perhaps, but beholden to the throne and subservient to the laws—met in the great chamber of state and proceeded to the discharge of its bounden duty. No question could arise as to leadership; Bender stood over them as he did over the legislature; and public attention now centered in the choice of a commander-in-chief of the army.

The foreign holders of property and rights had gained their possessions and concessions largely through the instrumentality of the recently defeated and now turbulent Progressionists, but with that their interest ceased; they now looked to the queen for protection, and while trusting her implicitly were doubtful about Bender.

In the creation of the Rifles, which grew out of the disturbances a few years theretofore, his money and influence, more than that of any other, enlisted and equipped the regiment. He had conceded Gutenborj the right to name a leader, though his friendship for Young had never been the best. That a fancied rivalry had grown up between them for the hand of the princess, Bender’s once passive acknowledgment developed into a deep-seated hatred. He would, therefore, humble his social superior: by keeping his word, gain further the queen’s confidence; through the medium of Aokahameha, tighten his grip upon the opposing army division; and, consolidating the hitherto heterogeneous elements of discord, lay the immediate foundation for ultimate supremacy.

Martha Norton alone knew, or could guess, reasonably, the outcome of Bender’s independence. She it was who, in the hope of personal aggrandisement, had played false her trust to further his schemes, and now that he, in the flood-tide of enthusiasm, had been swept quite beyond her reach, she realized for the first time the futility of a one-sided intrigue. Her accomplice might succeed in wresting Kaiuolani from Young’s grasp, but in so doing the latter’s prospects must be effectively shattered. What cared she for any man’s hand without success?

“He will pay me back in my own coin—but I can crush him, crush him with a word!” she said, to herself, tramping angrily the floor, in her bachelor apartments at the hotel. “No, I can’t do that; I must first secure Young. I shall go this minute—there is no sane reason why a woman should wait for a man to propose.”

Young and his employer were closeted in a convenient anteroom when Norton arrived at the capitol building, fully prepared to press her suit to but one conclusion. She knew full well her hero’s aspirations, but believing him to be a man of sound judgment, as well as good taste, could see no worthy prospect of a refusal, particularly under the circumstances. She had been reared to take care of herself in the walk for greatness, and at no distant past was still considered, by some, not at all bad looking, in form if not of face. He need have no fear of any social failure,—her presence at court had proven as much,—and there she was, in person, ready and willing, to answer any reasonable test as to her amiability.

As she entered, unannounced, Gutenborj arose and bidding her scant recognition went into the adjoining chamber, in quest of Bender. He had decided to have a last interview with the man who, he knew, most of all, held their peace and security in hand.

“How fortunate!” said Norton, deliberately approaching Young, who sat overwhelmed with concern. “I came over on purpose to have a talk with you; and here we are, alone and at liberty; without the slightest difficulty. May I sit with you for a moment?”

“Pardon me, Miss Norton, for the incivility. Shall I place you a chair, here, at the table?”

“Let us sit on the couch, by the window. The morning air is refreshing, and I am so heated. What I want to say is confidential: I should rather have you close at hand.”

“Very well. If you like, I will close the door.”

“Please do. You can trust me—being within calling distance.”

They remained in the open, where the bay breeze floated in, cooling their cheeks, as they edged sidewise, facing each other, underneath the window. Those solid walls had listened to intrigue, wrangle, statesmen’s harangue, society’s welcome, the joy of triumph or, even, the fear of death; but never before had they witnessed, scarcely, the ponderous business of simple love-making. The door, however, stood securely closed before them, and no restraint marred a speedy beginning.

“Mr. Young,” said Norton, directly they had settled, “my mission may surprise you, but the advantage to be reaped I know you will understand. There is a movement on foot to displace you. I need not mention the consequences, inevitably an augury to us all. Would you save disaster before it is too late?”

Young looked his questioner squarely in the face. Her eyes shone with the force of conviction, but underlying the frank expression there seemed to lurk a hidden meaning. He pondered. She abided the working-out of his conscience.

Presently the satisfied officer again raised his eyes and said kindly but knowingly:

“Yes; if the act be not inconsistent with my rights or duty as a man and a citizen.”

The blood rushed to Norton’s face, and before she could utter the cherished words Bender swung open the door and stamped angrily into their presence. The two arose, standing expectantly by; then, answering his heated questioning, with a civility begot more of understanding than complacency, departed from the room, quite undaunted if, perhaps, somewhat undetermined.

On the steps in front they encountered Gutenborj, who counselled them be cautious; whereupon Norton sprang into her carriage and drove rapidly toward the palace, while Young and his confidant walked prudently away, in close consultation, to their place of business, not far distant in the city.

Inside the chamber all had settled down to the studied routine of executing, religiously and unqualifiedly, what the wily minister of finance now rigidly imposed. The interview by Gutenborj and after-encounter with Young and Norton stimulated in him a desire to hurry through with the cabinet proceedings as expeditiously as possible, and before the midday recess was taken Aokahameha’s appointment to the chief command of the army had been ratified and confirmed.

When the last resistance had been brushed aside and the final agreement announced, the old halls rang with enthusiastic praise, and far out into the city the news spread as if swept thither in a speeding whirlwind. Even Wagner P. Onslow, Minister of Foreign Affairs,—an avowed Varnumite, appointed to conciliate in a measure the Progressionists,—vowed that there was not another in the whole of Hawaii who could so command the respect of both natives and foreigners as Aokahameha, and that under his guidance the army should become, at last, the true conservator of peace and real guarantor of law and order.

At the palace, Kaiuolani peevishly unfolded her childish plea and uncertain desires to her gracious majesty, who diligently answered with loving caresses and easily escaped anything resembling a positive denial. Martha Norton was there, hiding on the outside; an opportunity was all she craved. Thus—a courier dashed up; the coveted word had at last arrived, and Liliuokolani’s countenance beamed with satisfaction; his manner revealed the truth, and Kaiuolani threw her arms around the queen’s neck, breathing a deep-drawn sigh.

“Do you love me aunty?” asked she, her eyes reflecting tenderly the burden of a great compassion.

“Yes, darling; your happiness embodies the content of my highest ambition. I wish that God had so symbolized your deepest inspiration.”

Kaiuolani’s bright eyes shone with a love that gathered and flashed a depth deeper than the reach of man, yet the mind faltered and wavered in the balance of duty. She would have clung to the God soul, had not the tempter of morality bade vulgar defiance. She must yet find strength to resolve the inevitable, and as they sat in soothing embrace—the mother queen and child daughter—an unexplained but potent determiner rose before them to snatch from truth its certain victory. Aokahameha, with braided vestments and uniformed poise, had softly entered and silently stood, biding the command that fate decrees.

Arising as if conscious of a thing mysteriously compelling, the princess flew thither as a moth to its doom. Admiration overcame inclination, and addressing him in his new role she said, buoyantly:

“Aokahameha!”

The proud man extended both hands for answer, and as they stood the queen admonished him:

“It ill becomes me to congratulate you, Aokahameha; I have imposed a burden that no other could have assumed with such grace and devotion. You honor me and serve your country, in accepting this responsibility: may God be your guide, and I worthy your confidence. Your own volition is the sole guarantor of our liberty. I have no other command. The Queen, Liliuokolani.”

“Words of mine would be an unfitting answer; I shall endeavor in act to merit your esteem, and with pleasure go forthwith to my command,” replied he, with renewed determination.

“Can’t I go with you? I should love to visit the armory, and the ride alongside ‘Tie’ (his war horse) would be just delightful. ‘Ipo’ (her riding horse) is at my service—can’t I Aoka?” asked the princess, with tempting voice.

“If you choose to ride thus, I shall certainly enjoy the treat. Have you the queen’s permission?” inquired he, in courtesy.

“Yes,” volunteered the good queen, anticipating Kaiuolani’s request; “and I can’t resist saying that another such pair never rode the streets of Hawaii.”

“We shall try not to forfeit your majesty’s most gracious opinion,” answered Aokahameha, pleasantly.

They galloped along to the merry clatter of ringing steel, flitting the long shadows that fell glimmering in the roadway. A husky guard saluted as they passed the gate and plunged on, down the broad avenue, inspired by the cool breath of approaching twilight and livened with the glow of happy thought. Heads were bared and chance flowers strewn as they went; no feeling of disloyalty entered the hearts of those who had learned to respect their superiors in the fullness of content.

Slowing down at the big bend, sweeping round to the parade grounds, a squad of native soldiers, maneuvering in the distance, possessed Kaiuolani with new impulse; whereupon, turning suddenly to Aokahameha, she, half doubtfully, half in confidence, said:

“Will Colonel Young never again wear—his uniform—and sword—and ride—in front of the Rifles?”

“Oh yes, he may,” replied the newly made general, divining her concern; “he shall retain his rank: the only change shall be an added piece of braid or an extra plume for, possibly, myself. Some one must lead the Rifles, and I could scarcely choose another to fill his place—may find it difficult, even, to select one of equal merit to serve the Guards.”

“I am glad,” answered the princess, as they came closer and a sentinel back-stepped to salute.

They rode on, round to the front, where two guards seized the reins and Aokahameha, springing to the ground, assisted Kaiuolani to dismount. A deathly stillness pervaded. Some strange, ominous something seemed to possess the place and drive cold the blood in Aokahameha’s veins. Kaiuolani held fast to his arm, and walking in at the door they found the building empty; the Rifles had gone!