On the evening of that day Hokosa was baptised. The ceremony took place, not in the church, for Owen was too weak to go there, but in the largest room of his house and before some few witnesses chosen from the congregation. Even as he was being signed with the sign of the cross, a strange and familiar attraction caused the convert to look up, and behold, before him, watching all with mocking eyes, stood Noma his wife. At length the rite was finished, and the little audience melted away, all save Noma, who stood silent and beautiful as a statue, the light of mockery still gleaming in her eyes. Then she spoke, saying:—
“I greet you, Husband. I have returned from doing your business afar, and if this foolishness is finished, and the white man can spare you, I would talk with you alone.”
“I greet you, Wife,” answered Hokosa. “Say out your say, for none are present save us three, and from the Messenger here I have no secrets.”
“What, Husband, none? Do you ever talk to him of certain fruit that you ripened in a garden yonder?”
“From the Messenger I have no secrets,” repeated Hokosa in a heavy voice.
“Then his heart must be full of them indeed, and it is little wonder that he seems sick,” replied Noma, gibing. “Tell me, Hokosa, is it true that you have become a Christian, or would you but fool the white man and his following?”
“It is true.”
At the words her graceful shape was shaken with a little gust of silent laughter.
“The wizard has turned saint,” she said. “Well, then, what of the wizard’s wife?”
“You were my wife before I became Christian; if the Messenger permits it, you can still abide with me.”