Ke hone ae nei i ku'u manawa,
O oe no kan aloha
A loko e hana nei."Steve had taught her air and words and meaning--so she had thought,till this instant; and in this instant of the last finger clasp andwarm contact of palms she divined for the first time the realmeaning of the song. She scarcely saw him go, nor could she notehim on the crowded gangway, for she was deep in a memory maze,living over the four weeks just past, rereading events in the lightof revelation.When the Senatorial party had landed, Steve had been one of thecommittee of entertainment. It was he who had given them theirfirst exhibition of surf riding, out at Waikiki Beach, paddling hisnarrow board seaward until he became a disappearing speck, and then,suddenly reappearing, rising like a sea-god from out of the welterof spume and churning white--rising swiftly higher and higher,shoulders and chest and loins and limbs, until he stood poised onthe smoking crest of a mighty, mile-long billow, his feet buried inthe flying foam, hurling beach-ward with the speed of an expresstrain and stepping calmly ashore at their astounded feet. That hadbeen her first glimpse of Steve. He had been the youngest man onthe committee, a youth, himself, of twenty. He had not entertainedby speechmaking, nor had he shone decoratively at receptions. Itwas in the breakers at Waikiki, in the wild cattle drive on MannaKea, and in the breaking yard of the Haleakala Ranch that he hadperformed his share of the entertaining.She had not cared for the interminable statistics and eternalspeechmaking of the other members of the committee. Neither hadSteve. And it was with Steve that she had stolen away from theopen-air feast at Hamakua, and from Abe Louisson, the coffeeplanter, who had talked coffee, coffee, nothing but coffee, for twomortal hours. It was then, as they rode among the tree ferns, thatSteve had taught her the words of "Aloha Oe," the song that had beensung to the visiting Senators at every village, ranch, andplantation departure.Steve and she had been much together from the first. He had beenher playfellow. She had taken possession of him while her fatherhad been occupied in taking possession of the statistics of theisland territory. She was too gentle to tyrannize over herplayfellow, yet she had ruled him abjectly, except when in canoe, oron horse or surf-board, at which times he had taken charge and shehad rendered obedience. And now, with this last singing of thesong, as the lines were cast off and the big transport began backingslowly out from the dock, she knew that Steve was something more toher than playfellow.Five thousand voices were singing "Aloha Oe,"--"MY LOVE BE WITH YOUTILL WE MEET AGAIN,"--and in that first moment of known love sherealized that she and Steve were being torn apart. When would theyever meet again? He had taught her those words himself. Sheremembered listening as he sang them over and over under the hautree at Waikiki. Had it been prophecy? And she had admired hissinging, had told him that he sang with such expression. Shelaughed aloud, hysterically, at the recollection. With suchexpression!--when he had been pouring his heart out in his voice.She knew now, and it was too late. Why had he not spoken? Then sherealized that girls of her age did not marry. But girls of her agedid marry--in Hawaii--was her instant thought. Hawaii had ripenedher--Hawaii, where flesh is golden and where all women are ripe andsun-kissed.Vainly she scanned the packed multitude on the dock. What hadbecome of him? She felt she could pay any price for one moreglimpse of him, and she almost hoped that some mortal sickness wouldstrike the lonely captain on the bridge and delay departure. Forthe first time in her life she looked at her father with acalculating eye, and as she did she noted with newborn fear thelines of will and determination. It would be terrible to opposehim. And what chance would she have in such a struggle? But whyhad Steve not spoken? Now it was too late. Why had he not spokenunder the hau tree at Waikiki?And then, with a great sinking of the heart, it came to her that sheknew why. What was it she had heard one day? Oh, yes, it was atMrs. Stanton's tea, that afternoon when the ladies of the"Missionary Crowd" had entertained the ladies of the Senatorialparty. It was Mrs. Hodgkins, the tall blonde woman, who had askedthe question. The scene came back to her vividly--the broad lanai,the tropic flowers, the noiseless Asiatic attendants, the hum of thevoices of the many women and the question Mrs. Hodgkins had asked inthe group next to her. Mrs. Hodgkins had been away on the mainlandfor years, and was evidently inquiring after old island friends ofher maiden days. "What has become of Susie Maydwell?" was thequestion she had asked. "Oh, we never see her any more; she marriedWillie Kupele," another island woman answered. And SenatorBehrend's wife laughed and wanted to know why matrimony had affectedSusie Maydwell's friendships."Hapa-haole," was the answer; "he was a half-caste, you know, and weof the Islands have to think about our children."Dorothy turned to her father, resolved to put it to the test."Papa, if Steve ever comes to the United States, mayn't he come andsee us some time?""Who? Steve?""Yes, Stephen Knight--you know him. You said good-bye to him notfive minutes ago. Mayn't he, if he happens to be in the UnitedStates some time, come and see us?""Certainly not," Jeremy Sambrooke answered shortly. "Stephen Knightis a hapa-haole and you know what that means.""Oh," Dorothy said faintly, while she felt a numb despair creep intoher heart.Steve was not a hapa-haole--she knew that; but she did not know thata quarter-strain of tropic sunshine streamed in his veins, and sheknew that that was sufficient to put him outside the marriage pale.It was a strange world. There was the Honourable A. S. Cleghorn,who had married a dusky princess of the Kamehameha blood, yet menconsidered it an honour to know him, and the most exclusive women ofthe ultra-exclusive "Missionary Crowd" were to be seen at hisafternoon teas. And there was Steve. No one had disapproved of histeaching her to ride a surf-board, nor of his leading her by thehand through the perilous places of the crater of Kilauea. He couldhave dinner with her and her father, dance with her, and be a memberof the entertainment committee; but because there was tropicsunshine in his veins he could not marry her.And he didn't show it. One had to be told to know. And he was sogood-looking. The picture of him limned itself on her inner vision,and before she was aware she was pleasuring in the memory of thegrace of his magnificent body, of his splendid shoulders, of thepower in him that tossed her lightly on a horse, bore her safelythrough the thundering breakers, or towed her at the end of analpenstock up the stern lava crest of the House of the Sun. Therewas something subtler and mysterious that she remembered, and thatshe was even then just beginning to understand--the aura of the malecreature that is man, all man, masculine man. She came to herselfwith a shock of shame at the thoughts she had been thinking. Hercheeks were dyed with the hot blood which quickly receded and leftthem pale at the thought that she would never see him again. Thestem of the transport was already out in the stream, and thepromenade deck was passing abreast of the end of the dock."There's Steve now," her father said. "Wave good-bye to him,Dorothy."Steve was looking up at her with eager eyes, and he saw in her facewhat he had not seen before. By the rush of gladness into his ownface she knew that he knew. The air was throbbing with the song -My love to you.
My love be with you till we meet again.There was no need for speech to tell their story. About her,passengers were flinging their garlands to their friends on thedock. Steve held up his hands and his eyes pleaded. She slippedher own garland over her head, but it had become entangled in thestring of Oriental pearls that Mervin, an elderly sugar king, hadplaced around her neck when he drove her and her father down to thesteamer.She fought with the pearls that clung to the flowers. The transportwas moving steadily on. Steve was already beneath her. This wasthe moment. The next moment and he would be past. She sobbed, andJeremy Sambrooke glanced at her inquiringly."Dorothy!" he cried sharply.She deliberately snapped the string, and, amid a shower of pearls,the flowers fell to the waiting lover. She gazed at him until thetears blinded her and she buried her face on the shoulder of JeremySambrooke, who forgot his beloved statistics in wonderment at girlbabies that insisted on growing up. The crowd sang on, the songgrowing fainter in the distance, but still melting with the sensuouslove-languor of Hawaii, the words biting into her heart like acidbecause of their untruth.Aloha oe, Aloha oe, e ke onaona no ho ika lipo,
A fond embrace, ahoi ae au, until we meet again.
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