How happily the day sped on, the weeks ran into months bringing no
change to this flower embowered kingdom of the sea. Etta and Mabel spent
their time in learning to weave the beautiful, soft mats, in the
plaiting of which they grew very skillful. They also made for themselves
large hats of delicate white bamboo. These drooping, broad brimmed hats,
when surrounded by wreaths of natural flowers and placed upon their
heads, gave the girls an exceedingly quaint and picturesque appearance.
Their girl friends of darker color also made hats for themselves, as
women of whatever land or clime, are ever ready to follow a caprice of
fashion which appeals to their ideas of the beautiful or useful. The
girls had also become interested in teaching their language to a large
number of the young people of Nahua and learning in return, the soft,
poetic tongue of their entertainers. They learned to sing the sweet
songs of tender love that seemed to float on the fragrant air, for there
was music and dancing continually, as this happy people gave expression
to their feelings without restraint.
One afternoon the two friends sat idly watching the soft play of the
waves on the beach when Mabel suddenly said, “Do you know, Etta, if it
were not for my father I believe I should never wish to leave Kaahlanai,
but as it is I long for something to happen that I may once more see my
father.”
“I feel as you do, Mabel. It is so pleasant here with these days of
perpetual summer. There seems a feeling of perfect contentment to steal
over one without one’s knowing why it is.”
“The reason is, I think,” replied Mabel, “that we have constantly around
us those who are contented and happy, and there is nothing so contagious
as contentment. They live to enjoy the beauties of God’s handiwork
instead of striving continually after empty honors. To satisfy their
eyes no painter’s skill is needed. They have but to look about them at
dawn, when the first warm rays of sunlight bathe their home in a flood
of beauty, or watch the soft little rain clouds as they drift slowly up
from the south, and when it finally descends upon the grateful land in a
shower of radiance, hanging glistening jewels on every branch and leaf,
tipping with diamonds every trembling blade of grass, and watch the
glorious hues of the rainbow, that arches in its loveliness their fair
land. To watch the showers here fills my heart with a feeling of
surprise at the beauty of it all.”
“Do you feel that way, too, Mabel?” broke in Etta, “I did not like to
speak of it for fear you would laugh at my foolish notions, but that is
just the way I have come to feel. And, do you know I could never see
anything pretty in rain before? I always hated to see it rain at home,
but here it is as you say, a shower of radiance.”
“Then,” continued Mabel, “the evenings! If the days are filled with
loveliness, how much more the nights? Ah! At sunset to watch the sun,
slowly losing itself in the sea, and as it sinks, throwing broad beams
of shimmering crimson light far over the gently dappling waves until it
reaches the shore line, as if it had stretched out a loving hand to give
a gentle good-night touch with warm fingers to the land on which, all
days in the year, the sun smiles. And then, after the sun has sunk to
rest, to watch the pure cold moon appear, like a silver cimeter laid
against the background of dark, rich plush of deepest blue, and see the
twinkling worlds wake up one after another. I never see the stars appear
here but what I think of that sweet little couplet:
‘Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the Angels.’
Then all is silent in a holy hush of expectancy. My whole being seems
changed by the strange power of this hour of calm repose. Night! how
divine is thy beauty beneath these southern skies. But we seldom have
positive night; every time we say what a beautiful night we speak of a
rift in the night through which comes to us more or less light. Many a
night is but a low, starry day, a softened background against which
shines the far-off suns of millions of other days. The world lies in a
deep silence, and on fairy-like wings of sombre hue comes sleep to drug
the world into happy repose.”
“Why, Mabel, I had no idea you were so poetical. Where did you get all
your romantic ideas? I feel what you say, but could not give utterance
to it as you do.”
“Well, my dear, there was a time when I would have shrunk from giving
voice to the deep, true feelings of my heart, because I felt they would
have been ridiculed. But here, among this people, I find that the best
and most beautiful of their thoughts are freely given expression to, and
the study of nature awakens the heart to beauty, truth and love.”
The two girls were still talking in this strain when a bevy of joyous,
singing maidens broke in upon them with the request that they should
join in a swimming contest. Gladly assenting to the proposal, the two
girls joined their darker friends and soon all might be seen disporting
themselves gaily in the water.