Part 11 (1/2)
Her own rooh to snatch up a shawl, as she passed through to the far side of the house Here she could be safe fro; safe fro eyes in the velvet shadows of the passion-vine
She parted the leaves and harkened A soft, thin trilling cale in the ravine, a ainst the stream's broad clamor And then as she leaned farther out, so that her face showed for a moment like a pale blossoh the reen about his head, a flower chain over his broad, bare shoulders, clad only in a kilted white _pareu_--the very spirit of youth and strength and joyous, untrammeled freedom, stepped down from the days when Faunus hiently, and sure of a man her eyes had ever beheld ”Star” was his na one, and so to lend her courage he sang the crooning native love-song that runs somewhat like this:
_”Bosoht!
How you refresh ht!
”Rain is cold upon the hill And water in the pool; But, oh,still For you, O boso up the ravine,” he said, ”that looks just like the candle-tree you lighted in the church last h theand you were afraid the folk would see me? Ho-ho! Afraid the '_Klistian_' folk would see their bad brother outside? But this is ht the thistle”
She kept close to the shadow
”Are you going to be afraid again?” he asked ”There is no one on the wholeat the new la fireflies by the path! You should see how they shi+ne through the trees”
He seated hihed up over the shoulder at her--laughter like a boy's or like a pagan God's
It was that had tinged and made so live and subtle the fascination he exercised upon her; his unspoiled innocence, his utter, wild simplicity that struck back to the ultimate sources She could never have felt so toward any of the mission converts, with their woolen shi+rts and their shoes of cerelib, half-co thumb-marks of civilization on their souls Motauri had never submitted to the first term of the formula Motauri followed the old first cult of sea and sun, of whispering tree and budding flower He was the s, from before Eden; and she who carried in her starved heart the hunger of the first woman--she loved hie above him there and leaned forith clasped hands to see the soft glow in his deep-lashed eyes, the glint of his even teeth; to catch the sweet breath of jas about hiue that was as easy to her as her own, ”I am afraid Oh, I am--I am afraid!”
”What should you fear? I have prole is my friend”
”It is not that I fear son”
She could see his sht ”The trader?” he said
”Very many fear him But he is only a cheat and an oppressor of poor people with things to sell and to buy What has the trader to do with you?”
”He knows--I am sure he knows about us,” she breathed ”He knows Even now he --!”
Hurriedly she told hie development, of her father's sudden friendshi+p with the powerful white son's crafty, malicious hints
”I do not knohat he means to do, but for you and for me this is the end, Motauri,” she said, wistfully ”I dare not see you any htened to think what ers rested on his close, wavy locks, all crisped and scented with the juice of the wild orange ”It is finished, Motauri,” she sighed ”This is the end”
But Motauri's mouth had set, his boyish brows had coiled and firht He drew closer to her with a lithe movement
”This is the end?” he echoed ”Then I kno White star of the night--listen to me now, for I have seen how it must end Yes--I have known this would come
”Here in Wailoa you behold me one apart, because I do not seek to do as the white men, or kneel in their tehtful home But around the coast two hours'
journey, is the little bay of Huapu where dwell soiven up their own custoh chief, forcocoanuts of Huapu, and the oes and the wild plantains of the hillside--sweet and rows 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!