I glanced at the shadowy figure of Kahikatea, half expecting that he would make some sign, but he stood motionless, straining forward, with one hand clutching a projection of the buttress. Obviously he was too thunderstruck by this fulfilment of his dreams to act, to move, to speak. I went to him, and grasping his hand, said:
“Your dream is fulfilled. Wait a little longer and you will understand.”
He answered by a silent pressure of my fingers. Then Grey and I, in answer to the wish we had heard expressed, brought forth the marble statue from the recesses of the inner cave and placed it in its former position. I remember noting that, as we stood away leaving it there, the sounds of the war-dance on the plain sounded louder and more furious; but all thoughts, all sounds were for the time set aside by what followed.
As Hinauri stood before the stone gazing for a moment upon the finest, loftiest expression of herself, I heard a deep breath taken in the shadows near me. Then a hand trembling with a bodyfull of excitement gripped my arm, and a voice whispered hoarsely, “God, Warnock—I understand!”
Then Hinauri spoke, and her words seemed to gather to themselves all the loving prayers that have risen from the lips of women since the human world began. The thrilling music of her voice struck some invisible but responsive harp-strings in the air of the silent cave, and the song of it went singing on and on, coalescing with the sweet tones that underlie the universe of women’s hearts—on and on until the Great Tohungas of the Earth quieted the music of their deeds to hear the strain, and, listening, to whisper: “Hush! we toil in vain. A woman prays and all is done. Gentle hands knock at the door of heaven, and the Sons of God come forth to walk among us”—on and on, a voice made universal, welling from the heart of every woman and falling on the ear of That-which-Listens in the throbbing heart of all. Her black eyes—dark with excess of light—were fired with all the intensity of a woman’s love, as she raised her arms and voice to the image that was to remain in the high solitudes of the mountain:
“My pure white Higher Self! I go down to the world, but thou must stand for ever gazing out into the future, thy very look a prayer for all that Heaven holds back. Pray on, pure self, and may thy prayer be ours. When we weak women of a darkened world lose heart, and almost fall into forgetfulness, then may we look up to the everlasting hills and see the age-long hope upon thy face, the vision of the Golden Age within thine eyes, and crystal purity upon thy brow. Symbol of ideal woman! In every deed may we live always in the silence of the age with thee, for thou art in the stillness, and the stillness is with beauty, and beauty is with God. Thine arms are raised in constant longing; thine eyes look forth into a further and a further sky. So may our arms be raised for ever; so may we look beyond the level of the earth and pray that we may always know that, far above the world’s loud roar, our pure white Higher Self stands ever as we might stand—clear seers of a pristine beauty, seekers of a further God and, like thee, crowned with precious gems of womanhood.”
She removed the circlet from her head, and, approaching the image, paused before it with the talisman in her hands.
“This will link thee and me together in one life, so that there shall be one spirit between us. For long ages have we been spoken of as one: let us so remain, and I, below upon the earth, will never stain thy glistening white, for all the holy blessings that have fallen on thee since the world began will fall on me and hold me up. So I remain while thou remainest, breathing this same pure air. Lo! in token that we are one life and one spirit, I place my crown upon thy brow.”
She raised it, but her eyes fell upon the characters engraven upon the inner surface, and, with hands arrested, she read aloud:
“Thou, Hia, shalt return at the dawn of a new age, but ere the sun has shone twice upon this, thy crown, thou shalt withdraw into the sky.”