The Hawaiian girl had contracted the malady years before her companion, so the signs of the scourge were considerably advanced on her body; but still her shoulders and breast were smooth and beautiful, and still the Hawaiian chief, O Le Haiwa-oe, sang to the beauty of Aiola’s eyes. But one day he noticed that those eyes he loved had begun to look dull and shiny-looking. His heart beat as though it would burst, so deep was his sorrow over what he knew was inevitable.
The leper girl’s swift instinct saw that look on her lover’s face. She blushed deeply and trembled with fright at the thought of the hideous rot, which at last had commenced to show itself on her features.
O Le Haiwa-oe looked at her and said: “Beloved, thou art as lovely as of yore, ’twas the beauty of your eyes that made me gaze into them.”
But Aiola was not to be deceived.
As the days went on, Waylao resolved to stay in exile with those sad fugitives.
So, without telling them, she went out to the dead screw-pine that stood on the edge of the promontory, piled up the rocks one by one, then, standing on them, took down the large bit of canvas sail, fastened there as a signal of distress. She had only allowed it to be placed there through the pleadings of the poor Hawaiians. They knew that the inevitable hour was drawing near when life would be more than a living death, for would they not see their own dissolution? They cared not for the risk of a schooner sighting that signal. It would take Waylao away to safety, but it would not take them. No; the Hawaiians had resolved to go on a longer journey should their hiding-place be discovered. When O Le Haiwa-oe saw Waylao take the signal down, his eyes filled with tears, and in a moment he had run out to the edge of the promontory and placed the canvas sail fluttering to the breeze.
At last a ship was sighted on the horizon. It was beating its lonely way to the north-west. Waylao looked at it with longing eyes. Her heart went out to the white sails that could so easily bear her homeward. She dreamed that she heard the voices of the sailors on deck, and saw the tenderness in their eyes as they carried her on board; then she turned and looked at the stalwart Hawaiian leper chief, and the clinging maid. They, too, were staring seaward, but their eyes were fevered-looking, they were both silent with fear.
“Go and hide in the cave,” said Waylao. “If they should see the signal and come, I will say there are no more here!”
For a moment both the stricken leper lovers looked at her with deep gratitude. A look was in their eyes like the look in the eyes of hunted animals, as they crept into the cave and hid.
When they had both crept away into the dark, they wondered why Waylao had not wished them good-bye, for would she not be taken away on the ship for ever? Aiola, at the thought, sobbed in her lover’s arms.