Tombstone epitaph., 1915-01-10

serves ana ner Idmiiy knOWS what mas become of her. In fact. if you were to ask any man in Honolulu. he'd tell you it was his impression that she was somewhere in Europe. It was at her request that we've been SO quiet about it."
 But who is she?" asked. Certain ly. from the way you talk about her. she must be somebody"
 Did you ever hear of Lucy Moku- muir"
 Lucy Mokunui?" I repeated, haunt. ed by some familiar association. shook my head. Tt seems to me I've heard the name. but I've forgotten it."
 Never heard of Lucy Mokunui! The Hawaiian nightingale! beg pardon. Of course you are a malahini (new- comer) and could not be expected to know. Well, Lucy Mokunui was the best beloved of Honolulu-of all Ha- waii. for that matter"
 You say 'was,'" interrupted. And I mean it. She is finished" |" He shrugged his shoulders pityingly. "A dozen haoles-I beg your pardon, white men-have lost their hearts to her at one time or another. And I'm not counting in the ruck. The dozen I refer to were ,haoles of position and prominence.
 She could have married the son of the chief justice if she'd wanted to. You think she's beautiful, eh? But you should hear her sing. Finest na- tive woman singer in Hawaii Nei. Her throat is pure silver and melted sum shine. We adored her She toured America first with the Royal Hawaiian band. After that she made two more trips on her own account-concert work"
 oh" I cried. q remember now. I heard her two years ago at the Bos- ton Symphony. So that is she. I rec ognize her now"
 Twas oppressed by a heavy sadness. Life was a futile thing at best. A short two years and this magnificent creature at the summit of her magnifi- cent success was one of the leper squad awaiting deportation to Molokai. recoiled from my own future. If this awful fate fell to Lucy Mokunui what might not my lot be-or any, body's lot? I was thoroughly aware that in life We are in the midst of death-but to be in the midst of a living death, to die and not be dead. to be one of that draft of creatures that once were men. aye. and women, like Lucy Mokunui, the epitome of all Polynesian charms. an artist as well, and well beloved of men
 am afraid must have betrayed my perturbation. for Dr. Georges has, tened to assure me that they were very happy down in the settlement. It was all too inconceivably mon strous. I could not bear to look at her. A short distance away, behind a stretched rope guarded by a police man, were the lepers' relatives and friends. They were not allowed to come near. There were no last en- braces, no kisses of farewell. They called back and forth to one another last messages. last words of love, last reiterated instructions. And those behind the rope looked with terrible intensity. It was the last time they would behold the faces of their loved ones, for they were the living dead. being carted away in the funeral ship to the graveyard of Molokai.
 Doctor Georges gave the command, and the unhappy wretches dragged themselves to their feet and under their burdens of luggage began to the steamer. It was the funeral pro- cession. At once the wailing started from those behind the rope. It was blood curdling; it was heartrending. I never heard such woe, and I hope never to again. Kersdale and Me Weigh were still at the other end of the wharf, talking earnestly; politics, of course, for both were head over heels in that particular game. When Lucy Mckunui passed me, stole, 6 look at her. She was beautiful She was beautiful by our standards, as well-one of those rare blossoms that occur but once in generations. And she, of all women, was doomed to Mo- lokai. She walked like a queen, across the lighter, straight on board, and aft on the open deck where the lepers huddled by the rail. wailing, now, to their dear ones on shore
 The lines were cast of, and the Noeau began to move away from the wharf. The wailing increased. Such grief and despair! I was just resolv- ing that never again would I be witness to the sailing of the Noeau. when McVeigh and Kersdale returned. The latter's eyes were sparkling. and his lips could not quite hide the smile of delight that was his. Evidently the politics they had talked had been sat- isfactory. The rope had been flung aside, and the lamenting relatives now crossed the stringer piece on either side of us.
 That's her mother" Dr. Georges whispered, indicating an old woman next to me, who was rocking back and forth and gazing at the steamer rail out of tear-blinded eyes. noticed also that Lucy Mokunui was also wailing. She stopped abruptly and gazed at Kersdale. Then she stretched forth