On the Makaloa Mat Island Tales E-Book

Jack London

• Herausgeber: ShadowPOET
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

ON THE MAKALOA MAT/ISLAND TALES
ON THE MAKALOA MAT
Unlike the women of most warm races, those of Hawaii age well and nobly. With no pretence of make-up or cunning concealment of time's inroads, the woman who sat under the hau tree might have been permitted as much as fifty years by a judge competent anywhere over the world save in Hawaii. Yet her children and her grandchildren, and Roscoe Scandwell who had been her husband for forty years, knew that she was sixty-four and would be sixty-five come the next twenty-second day of June. But she did not look it, despite the fact that she thrust reading glasses on her nose as she read her magazine and took them off when her gaze desired to wander in the direction of the half- dozen children playing on the lawn.
It was a noble situation—noble as the ancient hau tree, the size of a house, where she sat as if in a house, so spaciously and comfortably house-like was its shade furnished; noble as the lawn that stretched away landward its plush of green at an appraisement of two hundred dollars a front foot to a bungalow

Leseprobe

OntheMakaloaMat/IslandTales

ByJackLondon

Publisher: ShadowPOET

ONTHEMAKALOAMAT/ISLANDTALES

ONTHEMAKALOAMAT

Unlike the women of most warm races, those of Hawaii age well and nobly.With no pretence of make-up or cunning concealment of time's inroads, thewoman who sat under the hau tree might have been permitted as much as fiftyyears by a judge competent anywhere over the world save in Hawaii. Yet herchildren and her grandchildren, and Roscoe Scandwell who had been herhusband for forty years, knew that she was sixty-four and would be sixty-fivecome the next twenty-second day of June. But she did not look it, despite thefact that she thrust reading glasses on her nose as she read her magazine andtook them off when her gaze desired to wander in the direction of the half-dozenchildrenplayingonthelawn.

It was a noble situation—noble as the ancient hau tree, the size of a house,where she sat as if in a house, so spaciously and comfortably house-like wasitsshadefurnished;nobleasthelawnthatstretchedawaylandwarditsplushofgreenatanappraisementoftwohundreddollarsafrontfoottoabungalow

equally dignified, noble, and costly. Seaward, glimpsed through a fringe ofhundred-foot coconut palms, was the ocean; beyond the reef a dark blue thatgrew indigo blue to the horizon, within the reef all the silken gamut of jadeandemeraldandtourmaline.

And this was but one house of the half-dozen houses belonging to MarthaScandwell. Her town-house, a few miles away in Honolulu, on Nuuanu Drivebetween the first and second "showers," was a palace. Hosts of guests hadknown the comfort and joy of her mountain house on Tantalus, and of hervolcano house, her mauka house, and her makai house on the big island ofHawaii. Yet this Waikiki house stressed no less than the rest in beauty, indignity,andinexpensivenessofupkeep.TwoJapaneseyard-boysweretrimming hibiscus, a third was engaged expertly with the long hedge of night-blooming cereus that was shortly expectant of unfolding in its mysteriousnight-bloom. In immaculate ducks, a house Japanese brought out the tea-things, followed by a Japanese maid, pretty as a butterfly in the distinctivegarb of her race, and fluttery as a butterfly to attend on her mistress. AnotherJapanesemaid,anarrayofTurkishtowelsonherarm,crossedthelawnwelltothe right in the direction of the bath-houses, from which the children, inswimming suits, were beginning to emerge. Beyond, under the palms at theedge of the sea, two Chinese nursemaids, in their pretty native costume ofwhite yee-shon and-straight-lined trousers, their black braids of hair downtheirbacks,attendedeachonababyinaperambulator.

Andallthese,servants,andnurses,andgrandchildren,wereMarthaScandwell's. So likewise was the colour of the skin of the grandchildren—theunmistakable Hawaiian colour, tinted beyond shadow of mistake by exposuretotheHawaiiansun.One-eighthandone-sixteenthHawaiianwerethey,whichmeant that seven-eighths or fifteen-sixteenths white blood informed that skinyet failed to obliterate the modicum of golden tawny brown of Polynesia. Butin this, again, only a trained observer would have known that the frolickingchildren were aught but pure-blooded white. Roscoe Scandwell, grandfather,was pure white; Martha three-quarters white; the many sons and daughters ofthem seven-eighths white; the grandchildren graded up to fifteen-sixteenthswhite, or, in the cases when their seven-eighths fathers and mothers hadmarried seven-eighths, themselves fourteen-sixteenths or seven-eighths white.On both sides the stock was good, Roscoe straight descended from the NewEngland Puritans, Martha no less straight descended from the royal chief-stocks of Hawaii whose genealogies were chanted in males a thousand yearsbeforewrittenspeechwasacquired.

In the distance a machine stopped and deposited a woman whose utmost yearsmight have been guessed as sixty, who walked across the lawn as lightly as awell-cared-forwomanofforty,andwhoseactualcalendaragewassixty-eight.

Martha rose from her seat to greet her, in the hearty Hawaiian way, armsabout,lipsonlips,faceseloquentandbodiesnolesseloquentwithsincerenessand frank excessiveness of emotion. And it was "Sister Bella," and "SisterMartha," back and forth, intermingled with almost incoherent inquiries abouteach other, and about Uncle This and Brother That and Aunt Some One Else,until, the first tremulousness of meeting over, eyes moist with tenderness oflove, they sat gazing at each other across their teacups. Apparently, they hadnot seen nor embraced for years. In truth, two months marked the interval oftheirseparation.Andonewassixty-four,theothersixty-eight.Butthethorough comprehension resided in the fact that in each of them one-fourth ofthemwasthesun-warm,love-warmheartofHawaii.

The children flooded about Aunt Bella like a rising tide and were capaciouslyhuggedandkissederetheydepartedwiththeirnursestotheswimmingbeach.

"I thought I'd run out to the beach for several days—the trades had stoppedblowing,"Marthaexplained.

"You've been here two weeks already," Bella smiled fondly at her youngersister. "Brother Edward told me. He met me at the steamer and insisted onrunning me out first of all to see Louise and Dorothy and that first grandchildofhis.He'sasmadasasillyhatteraboutit."

"Mercy!"Marthaexclaimed."Twoweeks!Ihadnotthoughtitthatlong.""Where'sAnnie?—andMargaret?"Bellaasked.

Martha shrugged her voluminous shoulders with voluminous and forgivingaffection for her wayward, matronly daughters who left their children in hercarefortheafternoon.

"Margaret's at a meeting of the Out-door Circle—they're planning the plantingof trees and hibiscus all along both sides of Kalakaua Avenue," she said. "AndAnnie'swearingouteightydollars'worthoftyrestocollectseventy-fivedollarsfortheBritishRedCross--thisistheirtagday,youknow."

"Roscoe must be very proud," Bella said, and observed the bright glow ofpridethatappearedinhersister'seyes."IgotthenewsinSanFranciscoofHo-o-la-a's first dividend. Remember when I put a thousand in it at seventy-fivecentsforpoorAbbie'schildren,andsaidI'dsellwhenitwenttotendollars?"

"And everybody laughed at you, and at anybody who bought a share," Marthanodded."ButRoscoeknew.It'ssellingto-dayattwenty-four."

"I sold mine from the steamer by wireless—at twenty even," Bella continued."And now Abbie's wildly dressmaking. She's going with May and Tootsie toParis."

"AndCarl?"Marthaqueried.

"Oh,he'llfinishYaleallright—"

"Which he would have done anyway, and you KNOW it," Martha charged,lapsingcharminglyintotwentieth-centuryslang.

Bella affirmed her guilt of intention of paying the way of her school friend'ssonthroughcollege,andaddedcomplacently:

"Just the same it was nicer to have Ho-o-la-a pay for it. In a way, you see,Roscoe is doing it, because it was his judgment I trusted to when I made theinvestment." She gazed slowly about her, her eyes taking in, not merely thebeauty and comfort and repose of all they rested on, but the immensity ofbeauty and comfort and repose represented by them, scattered in similar oasesall over the islands. She sighed pleasantly and observed: "All our husbandshavedonewellbyuswithwhatwebroughtthem."

"Andhappily..."Marthaagreed,thensuspendedherutterancewithsuspiciousabruptness.

"And happily, all of us, except Sister Bella," Bella forgivingly completed thethoughtforher.

"It was too bad, that marriage," Martha murmured, all softness of sympathy."Youweresoyoung.UncleRobertshouldneverhavemadeyou."

"I was only nineteen," Bella nodded. "But it was not George Castner's fault.And look what he, out of she grave, has done for me. Uncle Robert was wise.He knew George had the far-away vision of far ahead, the energy, and thesteadiness. He saw, even then, and that's fifty years ago, the value of theNahala water-rights which nobody else valued then. They thought he wasstrugglingtobuythecattlerange.Hestruggledtobuythefutureofthewater-

-and how well he succeeded you know. I'm almost ashamed to think of myincome sometimes. No; whatever else, the unhappiness of our marriage wasnot due to George. I could have lived happily with him, I know, even to thisday, had he lived." She shook her head slowly. "No; it was not his fault. Noranybody's.Notevenmine.Ifitwasanybody'sfault—"Thewistfulfondnessof her smile took the sting out of what she was about to say. "If it wasanybody'sfaultitwasUncleJohn's."

"Uncle John's!" Martha cried with sharp surprise. "If it had to be one or theother,IshouldhavesaidUncleRobert.ButUncleJohn!"

Bellasmiledwithslowpositiveness.

"But it was Uncle Robert who made you marry George Castner," her sisterurged.

"That is true," Bella nodded corroboration. "But it was not the matter of ahusband, but of a horse. I wanted to borrow a horse from Uncle John, andUncleJohnsaidyes.Thatishowitallhappened."

A silence fell, pregnant and cryptic, and, while the voices of the children andthe soft mandatory protests of the Asiatic maids drew nearer from the beach,Martha Scandwell felt herself vibrant and tremulous with sudden resolve ofdaring.Shewavedthechildrenaway.

"Runalong,dears,runalong,GrandmaandAuntBellawanttotalk."

And as the shrill, sweet treble of child voices ebbed away across the lawn,Martha, with scrutiny of the heart, observed the sadness of the lines graven bysecret woe for half a century in her sister's face. For nearly fifty years had shewatchedthoselines.ShesteeledallthemeltingsoftnessoftheHawaiianofhertobreakthehalf-centuryofsilence.

"Bella," she said. "We never know. You never spoke. But we wondered, oh,oftenandoften—"

"Andneverasked,"Bellamurmuredgratefully.

"ButIamaskingnow,atthelast.Thisisourtwilight.Listentothem!Sometimes it almost frightens me to think that they are grandchildren, MYgrandchildren—I, who only the other day, it would seem, was as heart-free,leg-free, care-free a girl as ever bestrode a horse, or swam in the big surf, orgathered opihis at low tide, or laughed at a dozen lovers. And here in ourtwilight let us forget everything save that I am your dear sister as you aremine."

Theeyesofbothweredewymoist.Bellapalpablytrembledtoutterance.

"WethoughtitwasGeorgeCastner,"Marthawenton;"andwecouldguessthedetails. He was a cold man. You were warm Hawaiian. He must have beencruel.BrotherWalcottalwaysinsistedhemusthavebeatenyou—"

"No! No!" Bella broke in. "George Castner was never a brute, a beast. Almosthave I wished, often, that he had been. He never laid hand on me. He neverraised hand to me. He never raised his voice to me. Never—oh, can youbelieve it?—do, please, sister, believe it—did we have a high word nor a crossword. But that house of his, of ours, at Nahala, was grey. All the colour of itwas grey and cool, and chill, while I was bright with all colours of sun, andearth, and blood, and birth. It was very cold, grey cold, with that cold greyhusband of mine at Nahala. You know he was grey, Martha. Grey like thoseportraits of Emerson we used to see at school. His skin was grey. Sun andweather and all hours in the saddle could never tan it. And he was as greyinsideasout.

"And I was only nineteen when Uncle Robert decided on the marriage. Howwas I to know? Uncle Robert talked to me. He pointed out how the wealth andpropertyofHawaiiwasalreadybeginningtopassintothehandsofthehaoles"(Whites)."TheHawaiianchiefslettheirpossessionsslipawayfromthem.The

Hawaiian chiefesses, who married haoles, had their possessions, under themanagement of their haole husbands, increase prodigiously. He pointed backtotheoriginalGrandfatherRogerWilton,whohadtakenGrandmotherWilton's poor mauka lands and added to them and built up about them theKilohanaRanch—"

"EventhenitwassecondonlytotheParkerRanch,"Marthainterruptedproudly.

"And he told me that had our father, before he died, been as far- seeing asgrandfather,halfthethenParkerholdingswouldhavebeenaddedtoKilohana,making Kilohana first. And he said that never, for ever and ever, would beefbe cheaper. And he said that the big future of Hawaii would be in sugar. Thatwas fifty years ago, and he has been more than proved right. And he said thatthe young haole, George Castner, saw far, and would go far, and that therewere many girls of us, and that the Kilohana lands ought by rights to go to theboys,andthatifImarriedGeorgemyfuturewasassuredinthebiggestway.

"I was only nineteen. Just back from the Royal Chief School—that was beforeour girls went to the States for their education. You were among the first,Sister Martha, who got their education on the mainland. And what did I knowof love and lovers, much less of marriage? All women married. It was theirbusinessinlife.Motherandgrandmother,allthewaybacktheyhadmarried.ItwasmybusinessinlifetomarryGeorgeCastner.UncleRobertsaidsoinhiswisdom, and I knew he was very wise. And I went to live with my husband inthegreyhouseatNahala.

"You remember it. No trees, only the rolling grass lands, the high mountainsbehind, the sea beneath, and the wind!—the Waimea and Nahala winds, wegot them both, and the kona wind as well. Yet little would I have mindedthem, any more than we minded them at Kilohana, or than they minded themat Mana, had not Nahala itself been so grey, and husband George so grey. Wewere alone. He was managing Nahala for the Glenns, who had gone back toScotland. Eighteen hundred a year, plus beef, horses, cowboy service, and theranchhouse,waswhathereceived—"

"Itwasahighsalaryinthosedays,"Marthasaid.

"And for George Castner, and the service he gave, it was very cheap," Belladefended. "I lived with him for three years. There was never a morning that hewas out of his bed later than half-past four. He was the soul of devotion to hisemployers. Honest to a penny in his accounts, he gave them full measure andmore of his time and energy. Perhaps that was what helped make our life sogrey. But listen, Martha. Out of his eighteen hundred, he laid aside sixteenhundred each year. Think of it! The two of us lived on two hundred a year.Luckilyhedidnotdrinkorsmoke.Also,wedressedoutofitaswell.Imade

my own dresses. You can imagine them. Outside of the cowboys who choredthefirewood,Ididthework.Icooked,andbaked,andscrubbed—"

"You who had never known anything but servants from the time you wereborn!"Marthapitied."NeverlessthanaregimentofthematKilohana."

"Oh, but it was the bare, naked, pinching meagreness of it!" Bella cried out."HowfarIwascompelledtomakeapoundofcoffeego!Abroomworndownto nothing before a new one was bought! And beef! Fresh beef and jerky,morning, noon, and night! And porridge! Never since have I eaten porridge oranybreakfastfood."

She arose suddenly and walked a dozen steps away to gaze a moment withunseeing eyes at the colour-lavish reef while she composed herself. And shereturned to her seat with the splendid, sure, gracious, high-breasted, noble-headedportofwhichnoout-breedingcaneverrobtheHawaiianwoman.Veryhaole was Bella Castner, fair-skinned, fine-textured. Yet, as she returned, thehigh pose of head, the level-lidded gaze of her long brown eyes under royalarches of eyebrows, the softly set lines of her small mouth that fairly sangsweetness of kisses after sixty-eight years—all made her the very picture of achiefess of old Hawaii full-bursting through her ampleness of haole blood.TallershewasthanhersisterMartha,ifanythingmorequeenly.

"You know we were notorious as poor feeders," Bella laughed lightly enough."It was many a mile on either side from Nahala to the next roof. Belatedtravellers, or storm-bound ones, would, on occasion, stop with us overnight.And you know the lavishness of the big ranches, then and now. How we werethe laughing-stock! 'What do we care!' George would say. 'They live to-dayand now. Twenty years from now will be our turn, Bella. They will be wherethey are now, and they will eat out of our hand. We will be compelled to feedthem,theywillneedtobefed,andwewillfeedthemwell;forwewillberich,Bella, so rich that I am afraid to tell you. But I know what I know, and youmusthavefaithinme.'

"George was right. Twenty years afterward, though he did not live to see it,my income was a thousand a month. Goodness! I do not know what it is to-day. But I was only nineteen, and I would say to George: 'Now! now! We livenow. We may not be alive twenty years from now. I do want a new broom.And there is a third-rate coffee that is only two cents a pound more than theawful stuff we are using. Why couldn't I fry eggs in butter—now? I shoulddearly love at least one new tablecloth. Our linen! I'm ashamed to put a guestbetweenthesheets,thoughheavenknowstheydarecomeseldomenough.'

"'Bepatient,Bella,'hewouldreply.'Inalittlewhile,inonlyafewyears,thosethat scorn to sit at our table now, or sleep between our sheets, will be proud ofaninvitation—thoseofthemwhowillnotbedead.Yourememberhow

Stevens passed out last year—free-living and easy, everybody's friend but hisown. The Kohala crowd had to bury him, for he left nothing but debts. Watchthe others going the same pace. There's your brother Hal. He can't keep it upand live five years, and he's breaking his uncles' hearts. And there's PrinceLilolilo. Dashes by me with half a hundred mounted, able-bodied, roysteringkanakas in his train who would be better at hard work and looking after theirfuture, for he will never be king of Hawaii. He will not live to be king ofHawaii.'

"George was right. Brother Hal died. So did Prince Lilolilo. But George wasnot ALL right. He, who neither drank nor smoked, who never wasted theweight of his arms in an embrace, nor the touch of his lips a second longerthan the most perfunctory of kisses, who was invariably up before cockcrowand asleep ere the kerosene lamp had a tenth emptied itself, and who neverthought to die, was dead even more quickly than Brother Hal and PrinceLilolilo.

"'Be patient, Bella,' Uncle Robert would say to me. 'George Castner is acomingman.Ihavechosenwellforyou.Yourhardshipsnowarethehardshipsonthewaytothepromisedland.NotalwayswilltheHawaiiansrulein Hawaii. Just as they let their wealth slip out of their hands, so will their ruleslip out of their hands. Political power and the land always go together. Therewill be great changes, revolutions no one knows how many nor of what sort,save that in the end the haole will possess the land and the rule. And in thatdayyoumaywellbefirstladyofHawaii,justassurelyasGeorgeCastnerwillbe ruler of Hawaii. It is written in the books. It is ever so where the haoleconflicts with the easier races. I, your Uncle Robert, who am half-Hawaiianandhalf-haole,knowwhereofIspeak.Bepatient,Bella,bepatient.'

"'Dear Bella,' Uncle John would say; and I knew his heart was tender for me.Thank God, he never told me to be patient. He knew. He was very wise. Hewaswarmhuman,and,therefore,wiserthanUncleRobertandGeorgeCastner,whosoughtthething,notthespirit,whokeptrecordsinledgersrather than numbers of heart- beats breast to breast, who added columns offigures rather than remembered embraces and endearments of look and speechand touch. 'Dear Bella,' Uncle John would say. He knew. You have heardalways how he was the lover of the Princess Naomi. He was a true lover. Helovedbuttheonce.Afterherdeaththeysaidhewaseccentric.Hewas.Hewasthe one lover, once and always. Remember that taboo inner room of his atKilohana that we entered only after his death and found it his shrine to her.'DearBella,'itwasallheeversaidtome,butIknewheknew.

"And I was nineteen, and sun-warm Hawaiian in spite of my three- quartershaole blood, and I knew nothing save my girlhood splendours at Kilohana andmyHonolulueducationattheRoyalChiefSchool,andmygreyhusbandat

Nahala with his grey preachments and practices of sobriety and thrift, andthose two childless uncles of mine, the one with far, cold vision, the other thebroken-hearted,for-ever-dreamingloverofadeadprincess.

"Think of that grey house! I, who had known the ease and the delights and theever-laughingjoysofKilohana,andoftheParkersatoldMana,andofPuuwaawaa!Youremember.Wedidliveinfeudalspaciousnessinthosedays.Would you, can you, believe it, Martha—at Nahala the only sewing machine Ihad was one of those the early missionaries brought, a tiny, crazy thing thatonecrankedaroundbyhand!

"Robert and John had each given Husband George five thousand dollars at mymarriage. But he had asked for it to be kept secret. Only the four of us knew.And while I sewed my cheap holokus on that crazy machine, he bought landwith the money—the upper Nahala lands, you know—a bit at a time, eachpurchase a hard-driven bargain, his face the very face of poverty. To-day theNahalaDitchalonepaysmefortythousandayear.

"But was it worth it? I starved. If only once, madly, he had crushed me in hisarms! If only once he could have lingered with me five minutes from his ownbusinessorfromhisfidelitytohisemployers!SometimesIcouldhavescreamed, or showered the eternal bowl of hot porridge into his face, orsmashed the sewing machine upon the floor and danced a hula on it, just tomake him burst out and lose his temper and be human, be a brute, be a man ofsomesortinsteadofagrey,frozendemi-god."

Bella'stragicexpressionvanished,andshelaughedoutrightinsheergenuinenessofmirthfulrecollection.

"And when I was in such moods he would gravely look me over, gravely feelmy pulse, examine my tongue, gravely dose me with castor oil, and gravelyput me to bed early with hot stove-lids, and assure me that I'd feel better in themorning. Early to bed! Our wildest sitting up was nine o'clock. Eight o'clockwasourregularbed-time.Itsavedkerosene.WedidnoteatdinneratNahala—remember the great table at Kilohana where we did have dinner? But HusbandGeorge and I had supper. And then he would sit close to the lamp on one sidethetableandreadoldborrowedmagazinesforanhour,whileIsatontheotherside and darned his socks and underclothing. He always wore such cheap,shoddystuff.Andwhenhewenttobed,Iwenttobed.Nowastageofkerosenewith only one to benefit by it. And he went to bed always the same way,winding up his watch, entering the day's weather in his diary, and taking offhis shoes, right foot first invariably, left foot second, and placing them just so,sidebyside,onthefloor,atthefootofthebed,onhisside.

"He was the cleanest man I ever knew. He never wore the same undergarmentasecondtime.Ididthewashing.Hewassocleanithurt.Heshavedtwicea

day.Heusedmorewateronhisbodythananykanaka.Hedidmoreworkthananytwohaoles.AndhesawthefutureoftheNahalawater."

"Andhemadeyouwealthy,butdidnotmakeyouhappy,"Marthaobserved.Bellasighedandnodded.

"Whatiswealthafterall,SisterMartha?MynewPierce-Arrowcamedownonthe steamer with me. My third in two years. But oh, all the Pierce-Arrows andall the incomes in the world compared with a lover!—the one lover, the onemate, to be married to, to toil beside and suffer and joy beside, the one malemanloverhusband..."

Her voice trailed off, and the sisters sat in soft silence while an ancient crone,staff in hand, twisted, doubled, and shrunken under a hundred years of living,hobbled across the lawn to them. Her eyes, withered to scarcely more thanpeepholes, were sharp as a mongoose's, and at Bella's feet she first sank down,in pure Hawaiian mumbling and chanting a toothless mele of Bella and Bella'sancestry and adding to it an extemporized welcome back to Hawaii after herabsenceacrossthegreatseatoCalifornia.Andwhileshechantedhermele,theold crone's shrewd fingers lomied or massaged Bella's silk-stockinged legsfromankleandcalftokneeandthigh.

BothBella'sandMartha'seyeswereluminous-moist,astheoldretainerrepeated the lomi and the mele to Martha, and as they talked with her in theancient tongue and asked the immemorial questions about her health and ageand great-great-grandchildren— she who had lomied them as babies in thegreathouseatKilohana,asherancestresseshadlomiedtheirancestressesbackthrough the unnumbered generations. The brief duty visit over, Martha aroseand accompanied her back to the bungalow, putting money into her hand,commandingproudandbeautifulJapanesehousemaidstowaituponthedilapidated aborigine with poi, which is compounded of the roots of the waterlily, with iamaka, which is raw fish, and with pounded kukui nut and limu,which latter is seawood tender to the toothless, digestible and savoury. It wastheoldfeudaltie,thefaithfulnessofthecommonertothechief,theresponsibility of the chief to the commoner; and Martha, three-quarters haolewith the Anglo-Saxon blood of New England, was four-quarters Hawaiian inher remembrance and observance of the well-nigh vanished customs of olddays.

As she came back across the lawn to the hau tree, Bella's eyes dwelt upon themoving authenticity of her and of the blood of her, and embraced her andloved her. Shorter than Bella was Martha, a trifle, but the merest trifle, lessqueenly of port; but beautifully and generously proportioned, mellowed ratherthan dismantled by years, her Polynesian chiefess figure eloquent and gloriousunderthesatisfyinglinesofahalf-fitting,grandlysweeping,black-silkholoku

trimmedwithblacklacemorecostlythanaParisgown.

And as both sisters resumed their talk, an observer would have noted thestriking resemblance of their pure, straight profiles, of their broad cheek-bones, of their wide and lofty foreheads, of their iron-grey abundance of hair,of their sweet-lipped mouths set with the carriage of decades of assured andaccomplished pride, and of their lovely slender eye-rows arched over equallylovelylongbrowneyes.Thehandsofbothofthem,littlealteredordefacedbyage, were wonderful in their slender, tapering finger-tips, love-lomied andlove-formed while they were babies by old Hawaiian women like to the oneeventheneatingpoiandiamakaandlimuinthehouse.

"I had a year of it," Bella resumed, "and, do you know, things were beginningto come right. I was beginning to draw to Husband George. Women are somade, I was such a woman at any rate. For he was good. He was just. All theold sterling Puritan virtues were his. I was coming to draw to him, to like him,almost, might I say, to love him. And had not Uncle John loaned me thathorse, I know that I would have truly loved him and have lived ever happilywithhim—inaquietsortofway,ofcourse.

"You see, I knew nothing else, nothing different, nothing better in the way ofmen. I came gladly to look across the table at him while he read in the briefinterval between supper and bed, gladly to listen for and to catch the beat ofhis horse's hoofs coming home at night from his endless riding over the ranch.And his scant praise was praise indeed, that made me tingle with happiness- -yes, Sister Martha, I knew what it was to blush under his precise, just praiseforthethingsIhaddonerightorcorrectly.