Part 4 (1/2)

That day, perhaps, from among them all, lived longest within the memory of young Harold,--the porpoises playing fearlessly around her canoe as the princess, with graceful, effortless strokes, paddled around one after another of the pointed tongues of rock; the flying fish, skimming the surface of the ocean until, by virtue of their speed alone, they rose like gleaming bows of silver from the foam. Intent to show him all her treasures, Wildenai guided him to a quiet stretch of water lying close to sh.o.r.e within the shadow of tall cliffs which rose at that point with precipitous abruptness from the sea itself.

”Here are my gardens that grow under the water,” she explained, as they glided above the spot. ”Look well at them. They are most beautiful.”

And gazing down at her command through the clear green into the luminous depths below, he caught glimpses of these gardens of the sea where goldfish darted like tropical birds among the branches of tall tree-like stalks of swaying seaweed, and strange shapes of jade and blue floated in the shadows.

”Is it not wonderful?” she asked.

”It is indeed, my Wildenai,” he answered earnestly. ”Never in all my travels, methinks, have I seen aught before like this your island here!

It seems to me indeed a charmed land, a kind of magic isle!”

One day it rained, the last belated rain of winter. But even the storm brought pleasures of its own, for, seated on the pile of skins beside him, the little gray fox curled contentedly at her feet, Wildenai worked at her loom. Within its dull-colored warp a blanket, woven in a strange design of mingled red, and black, and white, grew slowly beneath her busy fingers.

For hours the maiden drew the short woolen threads in and out while the young man, stretched lazily upon the ground, told her many a tale of the England he had left. Then, quite without warning, she ceased her work and sat pensively watching through the opening in the rocks the long gray swell of the sea.

”And what is it now, my princess?” laughed young Harold. ”The pattern is not yet finished, nor is the rain abated.”

”Ah, senor Harold lord,” wistfully replied the girl, ”I was but wis.h.i.+ng I had been born one of those same fair English maids with the eyes of blue and golden hair you tell about. Then would you love me even as you do them!” she added artlessly, and leaned her chin upon her hand, considering. A secret trembled on her lips.

”And how if I were Spanish born?” she questioned, and lifted hesitating, frightened eyes to his, ”dark to look at, that I know well, but even so, the white man's kind of princess, who also has a throne?”

And all unwitting Lord Harold answered scornfully, ”Spanis.h.!.+ Say no such word to me! The English hate the Spanis.h.!.+” Fiercely he caught up a pebble and sent it whirling out across the water. ”Even now their robber king plans his huge armada to take our queen and rule our land, but that, by the holy virgin herself, shall never be! Sooner will every drop of blood in bonny England be spilt. Never could I make thee understand how much I hope to be at home before he comes! Spanish indeed! Nay, never let me hear the hateful word again!”

Then, noting her puzzled, downcast face, with the impulsive changeableness which had so endeared him to her, he caught one little brown hand and raised it to his lips.

”But I do love thee even as thou art, my Wildenai,” he told her with the careless a.s.surance of one much older speaking to a child. ”Is not a wild rose sweet as any garden bloom? Nay, methinks 'tis often sweeter!”

Again he laughed and the little princess laughed with him now, for into her heart at his words had come a happiness so unlooked for and so wildly sweet as wholly to bewilder her. Quickly she rose, struck by a sudden thought, and running to the farthermost corner of the cavern she brushed aside a pile of leaves and lifted some stones, disclosing at length a box fas.h.i.+oned from the choicest cedar. Out of it, while the Englishman watched with wondering eyes, she drew a garment made of creamy doeskin, deeply fringed and trimmed besides with strings of wampum, the polished fragments of abalone sh.e.l.ls and many-colored beads.

Silently she brought it to him and when he touched it admiringly, for the dress was beautiful. ”It is my marriage robe,” she told him gravely.

That night, while the rain tapped softly at her tepee, the princess dreamed of a wondrous land beyond the sea where proudly she walked by her white chief's side and fair women with braided, golden hair spoke kind words of welcome, smiling at her out of sweet blue eyes.

Then, without warning, came the end of all her dreams. Hurrying along the beach at sunset only a few days later, Wildenai caught the first glimpse of the returning vessel as it stole around a distant point. For the s.p.a.ce of a second her heart stood still, then throbbed wildly, but whether with joy or pain she could not herself have told. One question only demanded all her thought. Should she let Lord Harold know? Perhaps the great white captain would not remember their bay. Perhaps,--her breath came fast,--perhaps the s.h.i.+p, unseen by anyone, would pa.s.s and Lord Harold remain behind content. With hands tight-clenched she watched the distant sail, fear growing in her eyes. Yet she knew that she would tell him. Nothing else was honorable. This, surely, he must decide for himself.

But tidings of such moment outran even her swift feet. She found him buckling on his swordbelt, in his eyes the glad light of some trapped bird which sees the door of its cage suddenly open.

”The s.h.i.+p--” she began with sinking heart.

”Yes, yes, I know! I saw it!” he answered, a fever of impatience in his voice. ”'Tis Drake. I knew he dared not leave me! 'Twill soon be too close in. Needs not he risk his safety. I must go before he gains the sh.o.r.e.”

The princess hesitated. What meant that strange heaviness at her heart?

Was he not still her brave, true warrior,--her great white chief? Had he not told her that he loved her? Crossing to where he stood she bowed herself before him until her silver fillet touched his feet.

”I, too!” she whispered, ”I shall go to England with thee!”

And at her words, within the little cavern there came a silence to be felt. In undisguised dismay the Englishman gazed at her where she knelt.