Beatriz continued her narrative, at least all but what her heart held as too sacred for human confidence, and which indeed would have been unintelligible to the untutored forest-girl, whose bosom as yet had known only her own simple impulses, which to her nature were like the sweeping of the summer breeze over a lake, gently stirring its surface, but leaving its crystalline depths unmoved.
She comprehended that Beatriz felt like herself towards Tolta, and loved Olmedo, who was a priest, as she did her father. Her active sympathies were therefore at once enlisted in her new friendship by a common bond of feeling. As Beatriz concluded, she said, referring to Tolta, “He is a bird of evil, but no harm shall reach you with me. My father is high-priest, and will protect you from him. Let us send for Olmedo, and talk together.”
Beatriz had been longing to see Olmedo, but delicacy had prevented her from expressing her desire. She therefore joyfully acquiesced in the proposition of Liliha. Calling one of her attendants, the chief bade her request the presence of the white priest. She soon returned with the information that he had disappeared.
“And Tolta,” demanded Liliha, “where is he?”
“Gone also,” replied the messenger.
“Then he is upon some evil errand. Hasten and inquire of my people what this means. Who knows about it! Send out runners in all directions to seek the strange priest. Off, off,” said Liliha, enforcing her order with an imperious gesture to all her train.
Beatriz’s heart sank within her. But controlling her emotions, she calmly awaited farther intelligence. Meanwhile Liliha comforted her with the assurance of her friendship and her father’s assistance.
They had not long to wait before several of her people returned with the tidings, that a sacred festival had been proclaimed for the morrow at the temple at Kilauea, and all the people invited to witness a new and solemn sacrifice to Pele. Every chief also had been summoned to attend with his warriors in readiness for war. Some important event was in preparation, which the heralds would announce before the sacrifice. But the news that most touched them was, that a boy in returning home at an early hour of the morning, had passed on the road to Pohaku’s fortress, a band of armed men carrying a prisoner, clad in a strange costume.
“It is Olmedo,” said Beatriz, as the truth flashed across her mind, “they are bearing him away to be sacrificed. My friend, my sister, cannot we save him? I will go to him and share his fate. Aid me as you would act for your own father.”
Dismissing her attendants, Liliha replied, “My father charged me not to follow him to the fortress without his express orders, and never has he permitted me to witness the offices of religion. But we will go there and appeal to him. I am sure he will grant my wish. Kind he is ever to me. But you must not be known by my people. In disguise we will go together.” So saying, she summoned four of her “bosom companions,” as were called the most attached and trusty of a chief’s retinue, and confided her intention to them. With their assistance the needful disguises were soon arranged, and the little party, taking a by-path to avoid observation, began their journey to the fortress.