# Kat and Copy-Cat/Chapter 8

THE next morning Dick drove down to town early, ran out to Waikiki to have a talk with Bert Sands, and was back up the mountain before luncheon time. However, he possessed his soul with such patience as he could muster, until four o'clock, as he had promised Evalani; but, nevertheless, before that hour came, he was nervously pacing the lanai and consulting his watch anxiously, and rather breathlessly wondering if the grey canvas curtain was already rolled up, or if it still hung its gloomy blank between them.
At last, with his thumb-nail upon the dial of his watch, he approached the rail and knocked with what he tried to make resemble his old nonchalance. Evalani's answering voice came from the other side so clearly that he did not have to brush aside the ironwood boughs to know that the curtain was rolled up and that the way was open for his coming.
When he vaulted over the rail, she was sitting in a low canvas chair among a brilliant array of cushions, her fingers busy stringing stephanotis and mu​lang blossoms into a lei. She looked up as he approached, and held out her hand. "I'm not going to get up," she said. "I feel as if I were one great bruise all over, and so stiff that Grandma is an athlete compared to me."
He sat down in the chair beside her, still holding the hand, and kissed the fingers softly and held them to his cheek for a moment; and then, as she drew them away, he relinquished them regretfully and turned his chair to face her. "Well," he said, "I don't quite know where to begin. That is, I know where I want to begin, but I suppose that, being feminine, you want all of the news before we get down to the hard, cold facts which I am going to lay before you presently. Besides, some of the news might have a bearing upon our affairs, more or less. Now, go ahead with your questions."
Evalani straightened herself among her cushions. "Did you see Mrs. Sands this morning?" she asked.
"I did," said Dick. "I knew that you would be burning up with curiosity as to how she knew where to look for you; and I might admit, on the side, that I was a bit curious myself; but it's all plain enough when you know Bert."
"Intuition? Clairvoyance?" asked Evalani, smiling.
"No," said Dick. "Just plain ordinary common sense, but speeded up to top-notch action. It's like this with Bert: her minds acts so quickly along ​logical lines that what might seem like intuition in anybody else, is with her just that lightning reasoning power of hers acting among a lot of factors and picking out the right ones and deducing the answer before anyone else would have had time to even get focused upon the situation. She's a lightning calculator among facts instead of figures. Snap judgment, and right snap judgment, at that, is her long suit, and she certainly does get results."
"I'd like to know her," said Evalani, interestedly.
"Well, you're going to," said Dick, "and that mighty soon."
"You haven't told her—anything?" gasped Evalani, looking at him with wide eyes.
"Certainly not; but it's going to be so absolutely obvious to the whole world in next to no time——"
But Evalani put up a hand. "You haven't told me yet how she knew," she protested.
"That's so," said Dick, contritely. "Well, I'm not so very responsible today, and that's a fact. I'm too happy to bother about details. However, this was the way of it. Several weeks ago Mrs. Walters invited Bert and her husband to a picnic over at Waimea. Just a small party; the two Morton girls and Carter McKnight and Bert and Jack Sands; that was all. They went by way of Leilehua and when they reached Waimea they found that the road did not run very near to the beach, and as Mrs. Walters did not feel equal to walking much, ​they kept on down the road until they came to a place which more nearly approached the sea, and they got out there to have their supper on the sand. Well, just as they were about ready to eat, there came up a rainstorm and that isolated and temporarily uninhabited bungalow being near at hand, they took shelter there on the lanai facing the sea until the storm had passed, and incidentally ate their supper there. Bert said that while she and Mrs. Walters were unpacking the baskets, Kat Morton and McKnight were nosing all about the house. Kat is the kind that is always peeping and prying into other people's affairs, just for sheer, unmitigated curiosity. Anyway, Mrs. Walters was very humiliated and apologetic because of it, and sent Calista to tell them to come to supper; but evidently the Copy-cat got interested, too; and after they had tried to look into all of the windows, evidently McKnight succeeded in climbing into one of them and came around and unlocked a door and the two girls went inside and continued their peeping and prying, and then they came out laughing and making fun of what they found and what they considered the bad taste of everything in the home. Well, that was all, excepting that it spoiled the picnic, because Mrs. Walters was so indignant that she became a perfect iceberg to the guilty members of the party, and everybody was glad when supper was finished and it was time to go home.
​"Now that is all that there was to the incident and there was no reason why it should have impressed itself upon Bert's mind, excepting that that little brain of hers simply files away everything that comes along, and has it where she can lay her logic upon it any minute that it will dovetail with any other factors of any problem that may come to her attention. And so when I telephoned that they had carried you off, her wits flashed over the fact that they would need an isolated place to take you to, and that the place of the picnic exactly filled the bill. And so there you are."
"Well," said Evalani, with a deep breath, "I certainly am glad that Mrs. Sands went to that picnic."
"Am I?" asked Dick, reaching for her hand again. And then he went on, gravely: "I have some other news for you, too, dear."
Evalani looked up anxiously at the tone of his voice. He leaned nearer, still holding her hand. "Carter McKnight went back to the bungalow last night, after we left," he said.
"Yes?" said Evalani, quickly. "How do you know? What happened?"
Dick went on very quietly. "He was pretty drunk by that time, I guess; and when he found that you were gone, he started speeding back to town, by the same way that you went out, by Leilehua;—and—at one point he rounded a curve right into the face ​of another car, smashed his fender and then slewed off of the road and went over—into Kipapa Gulch."
"Oh!" said Evalani. "Kipapa! That death trap! And—and was he killed?" she asked, in a hushed voice.
"Yes," said Dick. "Instantly."
Evalani sat silent, her lip caught between her teeth and her big eyes fixed upon his.
"I know, dear," said Dick, putting his other hand over the one which he held, and smiling down at her gently. "You feel as if you ought to be sorry, and you are not, and you don't know how to be; not through any feeling of vengeance, but only because it spells safety for your boy and relief from anxiety for you."
"But it seems so dreadful not to be sorry when someone has died." Dick was silent; only pressed her hand softly. Evalani heaved a big sigh. "And yet, just to think, I won't have to worry about David any more—or, at least, not so much, and—" The fingers of her free hand played nervously with the blossoms in her lap, "——and I was so dreadfully afraid of what might happen if you were to meet him—after this."
"Well," said Dick, "I don't know, myself, what might have happened, no matter how wise my resolutions might have been; but we don't have to think about that now, for Fate has taken it all out of our ​hands." And then he added, "And, too, with his going, has gone the only incentive that the Morton girls had for injuring you or your boy." Evalani was silent, her fingers twining in and out of the twist of flowers. "And anyway," he continued, "in about three days you and the kiddie will be so well taken care of that we won't have to think about them at all;" and he leaned back, contemplating her with a smile which was almost boyish in its open satisfaction.
But Evalani's eyes did not meet his. Gently she drew away her hand and rising from the cushions she walked slowly across the lanai and stood looking off toward Diamond Head and the blue sea beyond.
Dick followed her and laid his hand lightly upon her shoulder. "Come, dear," he said, cheerily, "turn around and face the music. You can't tell me that you don't care for me—not after last night. We're going to be married inside of three days, I tell you, and that's all there is about it. I'm giving you three days to prepare your trousseau, and that's certainly a plenty!"
Evalani turned, her eyes misty, but even then with a little smile at his boyish assurance; but when he would have taken her in his arms, she shook her head slowly and put up both hands against his breast, and he covered them with his own. "Well?" he said, looking down into her eyes.
​Her lips trembled for a moment and then her head came up with a little proud gesture as if tossing off her momentary weakness. "Yes," she said, steadily, "I do love you. I love you more than there are words to tell you. It isn't a wild, unreasoning infatuation, but a love that has come into my life like a benediction. When I am worried or frightened, and think of you and your strength and your dearness, the tumult all goes and I feel as if my tired soul had come into its haven of rest." Dick's hands tightened upon hers, but he waited, silently, for her to go on. "And yet, dear,——" she hesitated, "——and yet there isn't any way." Her head bowed for an instant.
"Not any way?" Dick questioned, gravely.
"No. I can't see any possible way. All night and all day I've thought and thought, and I can't see any opening anywhere. It's just a blank wall of fog."
"But," said Dick, pleadingly, "can't you tell me all about it? Perhaps I could see daylight where you, who have been so long in the fog, cannot even glimpse it."
But she only shook her head. "No," she said, "I've been all over it and over it, again and again, and it can't be done. I'm enmeshed in a net of conditions, and there is no way out."
"Not ever?" asked Dick, definitely.
Evalani was silent for a moment, looking up into ​his face wistfully. "I don't know," she said, reluctantly. "I can't see now how there can ever be a way out; anyway, not while David is so little. No, dear, there is absolutely no escape from the fog or the tangle of circumstances. There is no use for us to hope."
"But couldn't I take you both away, where no one knows anything about you or about anything here?"
"Away from Grandma, and leave her old and alone? Oh, no, I couldn't."
"But wouldn't she go, too?"
"Transplant her, at her age, to foreign soil? No, no; it couldn't be done. No, I've thought of everything, absolutely everything, but there is no way."
"Then you mean that there is actually no hope for me? That I must go away——"
"Oh, not go away! You wouldn't go away?" cried Evalani, her eyes wide with fear and pain.
"But how can I stay here like this?" protested Dick, "loving you as I do and knowing that you love me. You don't know—you can never know—what I suffered with that dead grey curtain down between us for all of those interminable days."
Evalani glanced at the ironwood screen which now swayed softly where the curtain had spread its dull, grey barrier. "Don't I know?" her lips quivered and she bowed her head upon their folded hands upon his breast.
For several moments they stood silently and then ​At last she raised her head again. "It frightened me when you spoke of going away," she said, swallowing what seemed like tears. "Would it really be so hard for you that you must go?"
"It would be very hard," said Dick, solemnly.
Her form trembled a little. "Dear," she said, "if you love me a very, very great deal——"
"If I do?"
"I was just wondering," she began again, "if you might not care enough to be willing to—to just be my comrade for a little while. Couldn't we go back to the old friendship that we had before—before you told me that you cared? Perhaps after a little while I might get used to the idea of your going away, but just now it—it frightens me so." And again she bowed her head upon her clasped hands.
For a long time Dick stood silent, gazing out across the brilliant tapestry of color spread out below him, but seeing nothing; conscious only of the pain in his soul and the precious contact of the girl who stood with head bowed upon his breast. At last he released one hand and slipping it under her chin he raised her head so that he could look into her troubled eyes, and he smiled down into them a gentle smile of renunciation. "Little Pal," he said, "we're going to be the very finest comrades in the world, beginning right now. Both of us are going to lock away in our hearts something sweet and beautiful beyond words. We are not going to try to ​kill it or to stamp it out; but we are going to cherish it as the most wonderful thing in our lives; but on the surface we are going to be just good chums and comrades, for the time being. But some day, dear, someway, I don't know how, things will come right; for a love like ours was never created to eat itself out, shut away from all that it was made for. But until then, we two are just splendid pals. Is it a go?"
And Evalani, holding her head high once more, looked fairly in his face and smiled. "It is a go," she said; and for a long moment their hands were clasped in the sealing of the compact.
And so the two slipped back into their old camaraderie, and yet it was a companionship a thousand times sweeter than had been the old contact; for now they had with them the peace and confidence engendered by the knowledge of the deep and abiding love which each had for the other. And then, as the days passed, even a certain amount of gaiety grew out of the little everyday happenings and their keen enjoyment of any bit of amusement which came their way. Dick was tireless in his efforts to bring entertainment into their lives; and eventually, besides books and flowers and a victrola, a radio found its way up the mountain; and thereafter, on many an evening the two danced there on the moonlit lanai to the music which came out of the air from far down below, where the lights ​twinkled, or from some wider range when conditions were right; and the old grandmother sat back in her corner silently listening and perhaps wondering at the curious experiences which these strange and curious times were bringing into her later years. But it was only occasionally that they could pick up the wider range, when the atmospheric conditions happened to be favorable, and then it was mostly one or another of the coast cities.
Upon one of these evenings, when the moon was gorgeously full and round, they had been dancing to Honolulu music and then, by way of experiment, Evalani began turning the dial to find if they could pick up anything else, and in a moment came a strain of different music and shortly afterward a voice announcing a Los Angeles station. The music was good and again they danced, paying no further heed to the announcer but only following the melody and dreaming to its strains. And then for a moment they thought that they had been switched back onto their own Island again, for there came the sound of Hawaiian boys singing. But when the interval came, Los Angeles announced again, and they once more fell into the rhythm, even more pleased to think of the music which they loved best, coming over all of those far miles of sea, for their pleasure here on the lonely mountainside.
Presently Evalani wearied and they stopped to rest, the girl curling up among the cushions in her ​canvas chair and Dick drawing a similar chair tete-a-tete, where he could watch the play of the moonlight over the features which he so ardently loved and see the gleam in her eyes as they met his in her answering glances of happiness.
The Hawaiian songs presently varied from the gay dance music to some of the old chants; He Manao he Aloha, with its weird, high strains, and again Kaena, with its soft, vibrating cadences. A momentary interval, and then a new voice came crying forth from the radio, crying forth in a chant of similar tone and rhythm but a woman's voice, clear and vibrant, but with the plaintive, wailing quality which only the Hawaiian voice can produce.
From the shadowy corner where the old woman sat, there came an answering wail, high-pitched, ululating. With the first notes, Evalani's pliant form resting against the cushions, had suddenly seemed to grow tense and her hand clutched the arm of her chair, while her eyes suddenly grew large and startled. The chanting voice went on:
Again rose the wail of the old woman in her shadowy corner, high-pitched, grief-laden: "Auwe! Auwe! Evalani, auwe!"
Dick leaned forward and laid his hand upon the small clenched one on the arm of the chair. "Dear," he said, "won't you let her come home?"
For a moment the wide dark eyes stared into his face and then, with a cry, she buried her face in her cushions and began to sob heavily, great tearing sobs, while her form shook as they were torn from her.
Dick dropped upon his knees beside the chair and drew her into his arms, holding her close and whispering tenderly and smoothing the soft, dark hair; and after a time the sobs eased a little and she relaxed, exhausted, in his arms; but for a long time he held her and soothed her as he would a little child.
At last she drew herself away and sat up, brushing the damp hair from her face and then dropping her hands limply into her lap and sitting with closed eyes, great tears still slipping from beneath her lashes. And then, finally, she opened her eyes and turned toward him, kneeling there beside her. ​"How did you know?" she asked.
Dick took one of her hands again, in a strong, warm clasp. "A veil fell from my eyes," he said. "It fell from my eyes while she was singing, and I saw through the brown stain upon your skin, and saw all of the scattered pieces of the puzzle and how they fitted together, and everything was plain."
The girl let her hand remain in his and lay quietly back upon the cushions for a few minutes, and then she sat up and withdrew her hand and her head rose to its old proud poise. "I am going to tell you about it," she said.
"You need not," said Dick, quickly. "I have heard the story and I understand it all now. It will hurt you to live it over again."
"I want to tell you," she said, evenly, "and I would rather do it now. Otherwise, I shall live it over a hundred times while I am waiting to tell you."
"Go on," said Dick, gravely.
She was silent for a little while, evidently seeking for a starting point, and then she began. "My father had two daughters. One the daughter of his wife, the other the daughter of a sixteen year old Hawaiian girl who died when the child was born. We were very nearly of the same age and we both looked like him excepting that I, the daughter of his wife, had, with his dark eyes and thick, fair hair, my mother's white skin. My half-sister had the same dark eyes ​and heavy hair, but her hair was black and she had the tawny skin of a half-white; but our forms and features were so much alike that anyone must have known that we were sisters. I was still a child when I first heard about her, through the Morton girls, of course. First it was sneers and innuendo, which I did not understand; and then gradually I came to comprehend and to feel the odious humiliation, and to realize what was meant by the meaning smiles and the veiled comment whenever the little girl happened to appear anywhere at the same time that I did. And then, when we both went into Punahou School and into the same class, the situation became unbearable; for even among children there are always those who delight in malicious persecution of anyone who has a vulnerable spot; and of course the Morton girls, although they were my cousins, were in the van of the torturers. Naturally I realized that it was harder upon Evalani than it was upon me; for she was the one who bore the stigma; and yet her pride was equal to it and I never saw her cringe, even under the bitter prods of my cousins.
"I bore it with as much cool indifference as possible, but when I was about fourteen the situation became absolutely intolerable and I determined to face it and see if I could not figure out some way to mitigate the torture. I had never become very well acquainted with Evalani, because whenever we ​came into contact there was always an oppressive silence and every one was watching curiously and gloating over the flavor of the situation, and exchanging glances and whispering. I did not feel actual antagonism toward the girl; but for years she had come to mean to me humiliation and discomfort, and naturally I avoided her, and no doubt her attitude was similar. Anyway, when I decided to take the matter in hand, I went to her quietly and told her that I wanted to have it out with her and said that I had an idea of a way of lessening the difficulty. And so we two kiddies went over the situation and discussed it frankly and we agreed that my solution was at least worth trying out, and the suggestion was that we should become chums. That would soon do away with the spice of seeing us together and would make commonplace a matter which was interesting mostly by way of its uniqueness.
"Well, it worked out as I had anticipated. At first there was quite a flutter of excitement and comment and whispering, all over the school; but we kept serenely upon our appointed way and paid no heed, and in a remarkably short time the savor was all out of the affair and the most of the students lost interest and turned their attention to their own concerns. Of course the Morton girls tried to make trouble for me home, going to my mother with the pathetic story of their humiliation over my inti​macy with a person of that character, as they put it, and publicly parading the disgrace of the family in everyone's face. Mother took it up with me and I told her exactly what I had done, and why; and she, the dear, while she couldn't really understand my attitude and seemed to think it very dreadful, still acquiesced as she always did with anything which seemed to be my wish. And so Evalani and I became close friends; at first outwardly for convention's sake, and then, as we came to know each other better and find how close we really were in thought and tastes, the assumed friendship ripened into a very real and deep-seated affection. We were even nearer than most sisters and the barrier between us actually dropped out of sight for us.
"This went on for a year or two and if the affair ever came to the attention of my father, he at least never mentioned it to me; but at last I went and took it up with him. Evalani was growing older and the allowance made for her was not sufficient for her proper pride, I told him. Everyone knew who she was, and for the sake of his own pride, if not for hers, he ought to give her enough for her fitting appearance and tastes. He met the issue nonchalantly and said that he would attend to the matter, which he did promptly, though not very magnificently. However, there was one point which he took pains to impress upon me, and that was that ​however friendly we might be in public, under no circumstances was Evalani ever to come to our home; this out of consideration for my mother. I stated with dignity that nothing could possibly tempt Evalani to come even if I asked her to, and reminded him that her family name was Hookano. And that closed the episode.
"Probably you know that I went to the mainland to school for a time, and when I came back Evalani had finished Punahou and had come back up here on Tantalus to live with her grandmother again. Of course she occasionally came down to town to visit her aunt, but naturally we did not see nearly so much of each other, though our friendship was essentially just as strong, and when we did meet, we were just as intimate as ever.
"And then David Malua came into my life." The girl was silent for a few moments, her eyes closed and her face strangely immobile in the moonlight. Then she raised herself on her cushions and turned breathlessly upon Dick. "That," she said, "was like the gorgeous blossoming of a poinciana tree. My life suddenly flamed into intense living and eager loving. It was a mad love, an irresistible force, that tore me with both joy and fear. I had always had everything that I wanted, all my life, and now I wanted David. Nothing else mattered, no one else existed; it was all David, David, and nothing else in the world. And he loved me, too. He always loved ​me, and I knew it, but he had himself too well in hand. Even greater than his love for me, was his love for his people. Race devotion and pride of family and of blood was instilled into his very soul. His race was dwindling, dying out, becoming vitiated by alien blood and, to his mind, the great duty of every member of his race was the perpetuation of that race; and with him, personally, the preservation of his family and blood was a principle which must stand first and foremost at every point of his life. It was a splendid principle and in my heart I honored him for it, but it played havoc with the one desire of my soul."
Again she was silent for a few moments, and then she went on. "Those months were very terrible and very wonderful. I gloried in my love and in the love which he had for me, and I suffered untold agonies because I was not able to break down his resolution. At, one time I would be in the seventh heaven because of some momentary flaming up of his love, though quickly and firmly crushed and mastered; and again I was in the depths because the barrier of his principle stood like a stone wall between us and I realized that he would never surmount it and marry me. I scarcely knew whether my people objected or not—it wouldn't have mattered if they had. I would have married David any moment if he would only have taken me. And there was no humiliation in this, either; for I knew that he loved me ​and that, but for that one stronger passion of race, he would have begged me to marry him. And then the time came when we talked it all over together, brought about by one of his momentary lapses into showing his affection for me; and solemnly he told me where he stood and that, much as he might love, he could never marry one who had not at least as much Hawaiian blood as he had; and that if our friendship was making it too hard for me, then he would not come to see me again. But I could not bear that and so things went on as before; my only hope being that he might eventually come to care so much that he would abandon his ideals for the sake of his love. And sometimes I even thought that I had reason for the hope.
"And then one day when we were driving up here on the mountain, we met Evalani and picked her up on the road and brought her back home. David had not seen her since she was a child and now she seemed a sort of revelation to him. I saw how it was with him at the very first, and my soul turned sick. She was like me, but she was part Hawaiian and of excellent blood. He could give her the love which he had for me and take her into his life without abandoning his dear principle. It seemed as if all hope had suddenly gone out and left me stranded; but even then I felt no antagonism for Evalani, she was not to blame; it was only that we were both involved in a terrible complication ​from which there seemed no way out. The only chance was that Evalani would not care for him, and so a few days later I drove up the mountain to see her. She said that David had been to call upon her but that she had refused to receive him. We talked it all out. She knew how much I loved him, and she herself was at that time interested in Jim McKnight, who had a surveyors' camp in the forest near them, and she assured me that she was not at all interested in David and that she certainly should not encourage him at all. And she kept her word so loyally that he never even had a chance to become half acquainted with her, for she avoided him at every point and was scarcely civil to him when he managed to make an opportunity for a few words with her.
"But it didn't make any difference. Love is a queer thing; it seems more an obsession than anything which we, ourselves, can direct or control. Just as I wanted David, so David wanted Evalani, and no coldness upon her part could dampen or discourage his determination to win her.
"And meanwhile Evalani had become infatuated with the idea of going into the films. A company had been here on location and she had taken some small parts and caught the fever. She was a lovely girl and a wonderful dancer and the director saw her possibilities and offered her a chance to go back with them to the Coast. They would pay her ex​penses, and all that she would need would be enough money to get such wardrobe as she might require and for emergency and small immediate outlays. We discussed it thoroughly and it seemed like a sort of heaven-sent dispensation. She did not care in the least for David, and if she went away, he might come back to me; at least there was a chance of it and we both welcomed the opening eagerly. We were only seventeen, you know. I was able to supply the necessary money for Evalani's venture and I also rifled my own wardrobe to make hers adequate, and we even became quite gay over the way that we were circumventing David and his infatuation. I was so entirely sure that it was really I whom he loved, and that Evalani was only the clothing of his ideal in human form, and that with her withdrawal, he would come to the realization that there had been no actual substance to his sudden passionate desire for her.
"Evalani and I had been very quiet about our plans for her going. The grandmother had consented and had agreed to go and stay with her daughter in Honolulu, but we could not be sure as to what my father's attitude might be and we were not taking any chances of its getting to his ears in time for him to take steps to prevent her departure. And so Evalani booked with the company under a stage name, and was so booked upon the steamer records, and everything went smoothly until two days be​fore the ship was to sail, and then in some way David found it out. And then he was a mad-man. He drove up to her home that evening and insisted upon seeing her and begged of her to abandon the plan and marry him at once. She refused indignantly and told him that she did not care for him in the least and would not think of marrying him, whether she went away or not; and that she was certainly going and that nothing should prevent her. He begged of her to give him a chance, to at least postpone the trip and let him try to make her care for him; but she dismissed him definitely and said that there was absolutely no use in his persisting any further. He became bitter and accused her of being fond of Jim McKnight, although McKnight was engaged to Kat Morton; and, thinking the more definitely to discourage him, she refused to deny the accusation, and he left, still in a bitter mood.
"And then he came direct to me. It was a rather dreadful thing for him to do under the circumstances; but the man was half mad at the prospect of losing this girl whom he had made into a sort of idol without even knowing her; and perhaps I could in a measure understand, for I loved him in the same mad way. Well, he begged me to intercede for him. He knew that we two sisters were devoted to each other and he gathered that I was helping her to go away, and he thought that I might have influ​ence enough to get her to at least postpone her departure and give him a chance to try to make her love him. It was a bitter experience for me—to have him pleading with me to help his cause with another woman, when I, myself, loved him better than life. I told him that it would do no good, that Evalani's mind was set upon the project and that she was determined upon a career, and that she certainly would go in spite of anything that I might say. And then he went all to pieces. He declared that if she went, he would give up his position and follow her, would follow her to the ends of the earth, that in spite of everything adverse in the world, he would still win her or die trying. And then he begged me again to try to influence her; until at last, in heart-broken desperation, I promised to come up the mountain the next morning and do my best to prevent her from going. And then he left me, and I crouched there on the lanai all night, utterly exhausted. But I kept thinking and thinking and thinking. I knew that Evalani would not give up this one opportunity which had come to her and which would probably be the only one in her lifetime. I believe that at that moment I would have really tried to influence her to stay, for I was so weary of the dreadful problem; but I knew that it would be of no use, and I knew, too, that David ​would follow her, as he said, and that with his going, all hope would go out of my life.
"And then, during those long night hours, this fantastic plan began to take shape. I remembered how, years before, when Evalani and I had been coaxing the grandmother for stories of the old times here, she had told us of a young sailor lad in the navy who had fallen in love with a friend of hers and wanted to desert and stay here and marry her; and how one of the old Hawaiian women had given him the material for a bath of some simple herbal stain and a dye for his hair, and he had come forth as a very presentable half-white and had taken a job in town; and then, when at last the navy had given up the search and his mates were gone, the stain had gradually disappeared and he was now, in these later years, one of the pillars of commerce and society in the Islands, with a large and respected family of descendants. And so, as the memory of this flitted through my mind, I began to see the possibilities of my substituting for Evalani. We looked alike, all but our coloring; there was no question about that, and David scarcely knew Evalani at all; and, too, it was really I whom he loved, so there would be no shame in the substitution; and if we continued to live up here in the mountains and I kept away from my friends and Evalani's, there would really be very little chance of discovery, for a long time at least. And I refused to look ​further ahead than the mere fact that I would be David's wife. That seemed to be all that the world could hold for me.
"And it looked so easy. Evalani was to sail in two days and was booked under a stage name which would hide her identity; and as for me, I could just quietly disappear, and people might think what they chose—that item was of small moment to me—excepting for my mother. But even the thought of her could not weigh against the fact that here was a chance for me to gain the one thing that I craved, and nothing else really mattered. One is very selfish at seventeen," she added, with a sorry little smile.
Dick only pressed her hand, and she went on. "Well, the next morning I came up the mountain, as I had promised David that I would, but my errand was a very different one from the useless effort which he had demanded. I put the project before Evalani and after her first gasp of incredulity, she fell in with the idea with enthusiasm. It was harder to convince the old grandmother and get her help, but we both argued and explained and told her how David had threatened to go to our father and try to get him to prevent Evalani's leaving, and how it was Evalani's one chance of her whole life; and so, as she was passionately devoted to her motherless grandchild, she at last consented and agreed to prepare the stain and the hair dye ​and have them ready for me the next morning, shortly after Evalani would have sailed. Evalani was to board the boat early and remain in her state-room throughout the entire voyage under the plea of sea-sickness, in order to avoid all possibility of recognition.
"And strange as it may seem, the plan actually worked out. As soon as I got back to town I called up David on the telephone and told him that I had been to see Evalani and that she had agreed to stay on and marry him. And then I told him that Evalani had really loved him all the time but had kept it hidden because of her loyalty to me, but that now that it was out, she was willing to marry him at once. And I advised him to put it through immediately, lest she change her mind, and said that she had set the following evening, if he was agreed; and that he might see her for a few minutes that same night, if he chose, for confirmation.
"I suppose that all of this deception seems very dreadful to you; but remember, we were only seventeen and full of romance and both of us wildly infatuated, she with the possibilities of a career, and I with an overmastering and consuming love which, to me, justified the deception, upon the plea that it was I whom he really loved and that when we were married he would fully realize it; and then, at last, I might tell him and beg his forgiveness in my proper person. It looked like such a beautiful ​scheme, and someway we scarcely noticed its dreadfulness, in the fascination of its fantastic possibilities.
"Well, at first David could hardly credit his good fortune, and then his next thought was for me; but I rather coldly told him to consider my pride and leave me out of the question entirely; and so I left him to his happiness and went home to prepare for my wedding day. He came up the mountain that evening and Evalani saw him only briefly and in the dusk of the garden; and she confirmed everything that I had said; stipulating only that they should continue to live here on the mountain with Grandmother, as she hated the social life in town, where she had been always marked as one with the bar sinister. David was willing to promise anything, and returned to town in an ecstacy of happiness.
"And so Evalani sailed the next morning, and the same morning I disappeared. I had come up here, keeping to the trails and out of sight as much as possible; and then, with Grandmother's help, I was turned into an exact duplicate of my half-sister. Truly it was startling when I looked into the mirror and saw Evalani staring back at me, instead of myself. For a moment I felt weird, as if I had exchanged my very identity, as I actually had. And that evening we were married, here on the lanai with only the minister and, for witnesses, Grand​mother and the minister's chauffeur; that was all."
There was another long silence, and when the girl's voice came again it was very soft and full of memories. "We were madly happy," she said. "I was the wife of the man whom I loved dearer than life, and he believed that he had won the one woman in the world whom he passionately adored;—and he never guessed, never suspected, while he lived. It was what he saw of me in Evalani, that he had loved, coupled with the realization of his cherished ideal; and now that love found absolute completeness in myself. There was not one flaw in our happiness. Such qualms of conscience as I might have had, were inundated in the fullness of my joy and my love for my husband. I am not ashamed, even now, of that happiness. I cannot even say that I regret all that was involved in it. It is given to few on this earth to have such measure of joy for even so brief a time, and for it I, to this day, give thanks." There was something of reverence in her voice and her face as she spoke in defense of her love. "Those months are sacred. They compass the perfect flowering of two lives in perfect accord, brought together as one complete unit. They were worth all that Fate has ever demanded of me in recompense."
"I understand," said Dick, solemnly. "You have been blessed beyond most of us in this life."
The girl went on. "Excepting just at first, we ​were almost untouched by the wave of excitement created by the disappearance of Jean Walters. At the first news David was horribly shocked and went out over the mountains to help in the search. And, of course, I had to affect a certain amount of grief myself; but soon the hue and cry died down and the incident slid into the past. Anyway, all other life seemed absolutely outside of the radius of our little circle of happiness, up here above the small, sordid affairs of the town; and there was not room in our lives for any memory of Jean Walters; nor did it even occur to me to be grieved that David had let her drop out of his life so easily; for it was the I which I am, that David loved, no matter by what name or race; and so, when I was filling his life to overflowing, why even remember that name which now belonged to nobody? Also, Evalani wrote to me often that she was happy and was being, in a measure, successful, and all ran smoothly. It was easy enough to keep the stain on my skin and the dye on my hair always even and true, with Grandmother's help; and she was contented and satisfied in the thought that Evalani was having her chance in the world.
"And then, when at last we found that our baby was coming, it seemed as if Heaven were showering us with blessings beyond all computing. David was delighted beyond expression at the prospect and so was I, only I prayed day and night that the little ​one might be dark like its father, and was sure that the eyes, at least, would be brown or black like our own. We took such joy in making our plans, David and I, and because the home seemed scarcely large enough, we decided to build the bungalow next door for Grandmother and to fit up her room here, for a nursery; and I had such a wonderful time making lovely things for the little one.
"And in all of those months, the only shadow that arose was because of Jim McKnight. Of course I had known him before, though only slightly, although he was engaged to my cousin; but I didn't like him and had never had any more to do with him than I could help. However, he was still camped here on the mountain and several times he came to the door and asked for Mrs. Malua, but, according to orders, Fong always turned him away upon some pretext or other. However, one day he came in through the hedge suddenly while I was in the garden. I tried to escape, but he insisted upon talking and I was conscious that he was watching me all the time, and before I could get away I had become convinced that he at least suspected me, and that it was very bad business because, with me out of the way, the Morton girls would come in for the bulk of my mother's fortune; and, as he was engaged to Kat, the discovery of my continued existence would be far from a happy one for him. However, as I had so much to do and so much to think about just then, ​the matter nearly slipped from my mind; and when I did think of it, I decided that I had probably been mistaken about his suspicion; although it made me anxious when I remembered that he and Evalani had been very good friends indeed, and that if any one could detect my masquerade, he would be the most likely to. And it was several weeks, the house next door being nearly finished, before he made another move, and by that time he had probably consulted with Kat Morton and had decided to make sure, and very likely she even plotted with him that he should make another occasion to see me and if that confirmed his suspicions, to at least give me a good fright, hoping that it might have evil results.
"He evidently watched the house for an opportunity, for late one afternoon, when Grandmother was over directing the carpenters and Fong had gone down to town, he suddenly came through the house and out here upon the lanai where I was sitting. I sprang up and demanded how he had dared to come in that way. He only laughed and came close to me and looked into my eyes and then he grasped my wrist and drew me to him and tried to kiss me. I was wild with anger and hatred. And then he told me that he knew, and tried to blackmail me—not for money; and said that he would tell David who I was, if I was cold to him. I tried to break away from him, but he continued to laugh ​and threw his arm around me and I screamed; and it was just at that moment that I saw David coming through the door. And you have probably heard how David threw him out. I know that the carpenters working on the house next door, saw and told it all.
"When David came back I was crying hysterically, and he was very grave. He remembered that Evalani had once, long ago, admitted to him that she cared for Jim McKnight, though she had denied it afterward, when she promised to marry him. The trouble was that I had screamed just as David had reached the door, and he could not be sure whether I had screamed because I had seen him, or because I was afraid of McKnight. But my agony at the very thought of the first suggestion was so intense that he was convinced of my absolute innocence and threatened to go out after McKnight then and bring him to account; but I begged him not to. I was afraid that McKnight might tell him, if he were given a chance, and so I persuaded David to let it go, but to get the big police dog for my future protection; and that he did at once.
"But the shock had been too much for me and I was sick a great deal after that, and David worried constantly and cursed McKnight for his behavior and was desperately anxious until the baby came. But my greatest anxiety was that my baby should be like its father; and the first question that I asked ​Grandma was: "Is it dark? Tell me, quick; is it dark?" And she had to tell me that it was fair.
"I was so frightened then; for David had been so eager for a child typical of his race, and I was so afraid that when he saw it he would realize the trick that I had played upon him and would hate me. And so I decided to tell him all about it at once, before he saw the baby; and then I was sure that when he realized how desperately I loved him and had done it all because I loved him so, and when he remembered how happy we had been, I was sure that he would forgive me—I didn't see how he could help but forgive me. I told Grandma that I was going to tell him, but she said that I was too weak then for any excitement and must wait a few days; but that she would keep David from seeing the child until then. I begged her to stain his skin, for I knew David's impetuousness and was afraid that he would not be kept out. But she said that she could not do it to so tiny a baby with its tender flesh; but promised that she would keep David out until I was strong enough to see him and tell him. She was my only doctor, and I had to obey her.
"And she did keep him out for several days, and then one day his fever to see me and his child became too strong for him and he pushed by her and came into my room; and the baby was lying beside me, all pink and white with wide open blue eyes ​staring at his father. David just stood and looked for one long moment, and then, without a word, he turned and strode out of the room. I called after him, but he never turned, he never waited for me to tell him, but went off up the road into the mountains. You see, it never entered my mind that he would think what he did. I thought that he had just gone away to fight down his disappointment that the child was white. Whether he realized that I was Jean or whether he thought that it was only the working out of the white blood in us both, I did not know; but I thought that he would come back, when he had fought it down; and that then, when I had confessed and told him all, he would forgive me, for the sake of our child. But—he never came back."
It was a long time before she took up the story again. "You know what happened. And even then I could not grasp at first why he had done it. It never entered my mind that he could really doubt me. The momentary distrust that he had felt when he found McKnight here that day, had seemed so entirely eradicated and had really impressed me so little because of the utter absurdity of it, despising McKnight as I did, that the thought was not a factor in the case at all, so far as I was concerned. And then, when I learned what had happened, and suddenly and horribly I realized what he had thought, then my very life went out. Evidently the suspicion ​had stayed with him, subconsciously, and when he saw the face of the little fair-haired baby staring up at him from beside me, the awful conclusion surged up over him and he went forth to wipe out the stain which he saw upon his honor. And I—I had to live on for my baby's sake."
"Thank God for that!" said Dick, fervently.
"And now," the girl went on, presently, her voice low and musing, "it all seems so dreadfully long ago, as if it had happened in some past life; and yet many of the memories are so beautiful."
For a long time neither of them spoke. She was living with her dreams of the past and he felt that he, for the moment, had no place, and he was content to sit quietly watching her face in the moonlight and waiting for his day to come again.
At last she turned to him and smiled, and then he rose up and taking both of her hands he drew her up beside him, holding the hands close to his breast again. "I am going to leave you now, dear," he said, "but tomorrow morning I am coming over to talk to you. Thank you for telling me the story. It has made me understand you better and love you more."
"You still love me?" she asked, smiling up at him, mistily, "After all that I have done?"
"Still love you! Why, child, when I think of what you did and what you dared for your love, I feel like going down on my knees to you. And, too, dear ​heart, I begin to see light for us both, and perhaps Heaven is going to be so good as to give us a taste of real happiness, after all. Tomorrow morning we will talk it all over. Good-night, sweetheart; sleep well; there will be a lot of sunshine for us tomorrow."