Kiana’s ardent, generous nature, had from the first been her captive. This she saw; but it inspired in her no deeper sentiment than the respect due his qualities. He, however, unlike most men, did not fancy that to love, implied of necessity to be loved. His passion was open and honorable. To the praise of the Hawaiian race, be it recorded, that no white woman ever received other than courtesy at their hands. Rich or poor, alone among thousands of natives, they and theirs with no other protection than their own virtue, have ever been, not only respected, but cared for, and to a certain extent venerated. White men, it is true, have in general been as hospitably received. But by their passions they speedily place themselves upon the level of the native. The white woman, on the contrary, from the first went among them as a missionary,—a being superior in virtue as in knowledge to themselves,—and by the affinity of respect which human nature everywhere shows for the truly good, she has ever maintained over this semi-barbarian race an ascendancy more real than hostile fleets have ever effected.[1]
Beatriz had nothing to fear from Kiana. It was not in her power to refuse his gifts for they reached her indirectly, through the thousand channels ever open to a despotic will. Kiana’s passion, like his nature, was princely. The rarest flowers, fresh every morning, were placed by unseen hands about her house. All that Hawaii could produce that was beautiful or delicate, found its way thither; she could not tell how, though she felt from whom it came. The choicest fruits were served to her by the fairest and best of Hawaii’s maidens. No wanton curiosity was allowed to intrude upon her retirement. If she walked out, not an eye gazed rudely upon her, not a glance questioned her motives. Amid a populous district, she was as retired, at her own choice, as if it were her pleasure grounds. The gallantry of Kiana had even provided for her a bathing place in a crystalline pool, so nicely shaded by nature and screened by art, as to form a retreat that Diana might have coveted. When he visited her, it was with the state of a Hawaiian noble. Rarely, unless specially invited by Juan, did he approach her in an informal manner. Savage though he was, he possessed a tact and an intuitive perception of the delicacy of Beatriz’s character, which led him to adopt the only course that could in any wise make him personally acceptable to her.
One day not long after the scene described in the last chapter, Beatriz, sadder than usual, was alone in her garden, looking at the ocean without seeing it, when Kiana came up to her and in a low voice said, “Does the white maiden mourn her Spanish home?”
“No, chief,” said Beatriz, “my home is with my brother. We are orphans.”
“Juan loves Hawaii,” replied Kiana, “and will stay with us. He is my brother, my Hoapili, ‘close adhering companion,’ my people now call him. But my heart is lonely. Will not his sister be my wife?”
The abruptness of the proposal, although so long foreshadowed by attentions that only an honorable love could have suggested, at first startled Beatriz, and for a moment she was at a loss for a suitable reply. Decided in her own feelings, she wished to spare him unnecessary pain, and at the same time preserve a friendship so important to the welfare of her brother. Perhaps she thought too of Olmedo. Her hesitation encouraged Kiana to plead his suit still farther.
“Kiana loves only the white maiden. Since his eyes first saw her, all other loves have left him. His heart grows feeble when she speaks. He trembles at her voice, but it is music to his ears. When she smiles the sun looks brighter, the birds sing more sweetly and the flowers grow more fragrant. My people see in her a deity. To me, she is my soul, my life. Be mine, maiden, and rule Hawaii, as you now rule me,” and the haughty chief, who had never before bent the knee in prayer to God or mortal, knelt to Beatriz.
Her resolution was at once taken. With a nature like his, frankness and firmness would, she felt, be appreciated.
“Rise, chieftain,” said she, “this must not be. White maidens give their hands only with their hearts. You are generous, noble, proud. Would you wed one who cannot return your love? No! Kiana could not stoop to that.”
“But thou wilt love. Thou art formed for love. Does not each bird seek a mate? Wilt thou, of all thy sex, be always alone? Look around. All nature smiles; thou only art ever sad. Let my love be thy smile, and Hawaii shall ever rejoice that ‘the pearl of the sea-wave,’ for so thou art called among us, was found upon her shore.”