“I have placed the things on, you see, Hawahee,” she murmured, as she dropped her glance and gazed down at her sandalled feet.
“Thou hast grown more beautiful than I dreamed, Sestra,” said Hawahee, as he gazed on the perfect symmetry of his lone companion’s form. True enough the loose picturesque bodice, short-sleeved and low in the shoulders and again below the throat’s fullness, and the skirt, also, had been artfully devised so that the beauty of her figure should please Hawahee’s eyes. The flush of health, the oval, dimpled face, the coral red lips and lustrous eyes might well have brought the light of admiration to the eyes of men placed in less loneliness than that which passed over the Hawaiian’s solitary days. Perhaps it was the glory of Sestrina’s mass of hair that made her look like some wonderful picture that represented the zenith of woman’s physical loveliness. But the perfect beauty of Sestrina gleamed in the earnest, spiritual light of her eyes, the expression on the tremulous mouth, and the calm pure brow. It was a lovely face. The Fates seemed to have meditated deeply over her soul’s welfare when they fashioned that faultless face and remembered all that destiny had planned, and the temptation that would beset her path. As she stood there, the winds tossed her disordered hair till the tresses fell in confusion over her face, hiding her own confusion as they floated out and went rippling down far below her waist. A great fire was burning in the Hawaiian’s eyes as he continued to gaze upon her. Sestrina returned the gaze in a steady glance. She began to see how the man felt for her. He put forth his hand, and taking her soft fingers in his own placed them near his lips, then immediately dropped her hand again. It was a long, long time since he had touched her; for though she had often approached him, he had ever warned her of the danger she ran. For though the leper-spot had almost healed, he knew the dreadful scourge lurked in his body.
“Ah, wahine, I thank the gods for giving such a one as you to dwell here with me in my sorrow,” murmured Hawahee as he sighed and stared seaward.
“Then, why have you placed the flag out again? Do you want me to leave you for ever?” queried Sestrina as she hung her head, pleased to say something as the Hawaiian’s glowing eyes once more stared upon her. Sestrina had referred to the tappa-cloth signal flag which had flown for years from the dead palm top out on the promontory’s edge. For Sestrina, acting on a sudden impulse, had a week before, run out to the promontory’s edge and climbing the palm had taken the flag down!
“No, I would not lose thee, beloved Sestra; but still, I feel worried and much sad in the thought of the day which must come—when I am not here!”
“Not here!” said Sestrina, great alarm in her voice.
“The gods may take me, wahine. For thou as well as they know that the palms grow on and the seas roll for ever, but man departs.” So saying, Hawahee sighed deeply and broke a piece of firewood on his knee. Then continuing, he said: “Wahine, thou art a woman and I a man, and your beauty sears my heart with thoughts that bring grief to the soul when I hear the mouths of the gods warn me from their temple in the valley as I lie sleepless in the night. And, Sestra, I see that too in your eyes which tells me that I may speak this way to you.”
Sestrina listened with bowed head. She knew what the Hawaiian meant. And so, through the innocence and natural modesty of her life and her deep reverence for Atua, Pelé and Kauhilo, she was enabled to calmly take the Hawaiian’s hand and say: “Dear Hawahee, we will kneel together and pray deeply before the shell-altars asking that we may be made strong in the hour of temptation.” Then, as she leaned forward and examined a small blue flower that grew by the kitchen door, she said in a tremulous, hesitating voice: “I too, at times, feel that thou art more than a dear brother to me. And I say, O Hawahee, this feeling troubles me, since I know it is the love of the flesh and not of the soul.”
“Since ’tis only love of the flesh and not of the soul, I will leave thee and attend to the yam patch,” said Hawahee with a catch in his throat. Then he strode away with deep sadness in his heart.
Sestrina gazed tenderly after him. Then she sat down by her kitchen door and wept.