The morning was bright and beautiful on which the Eliza Judd, with her
returning wanderers, arrived at the dock at San Francisco.
As they stepped ashore it seemed strange to once more hear the commotion
and bustle of a large city, the cars rumbling, the blowing of the
whistles and a thousand and one noises which go to form the city’s din.
To Ahleka, it was not only confusing, but also startling.
“What is that we hear,” he asked of Mabel, “is there war in your land?”
Mabel laughed heartily as she replied, “No, that is the noise made by
the march of civilization. It is no army of warriors that you hear, but
the vast army of workmen pursuing their daily vocations, but I confess
it does have a dreadful sound. But come, let us take a carriage to my
father’s home;” at which they stepped into a carriage, and after giving
the address of her old home, they were driven rapidly from the wharf.
Ahleka was much interested in the horses. As they were driving along he
remarked, “Who would have thought how pleasant it is to be carried along
in this manner, without the slightest effort on one’s own part? Those
immense structures that lift their heads so nearly to the sky, what are
they?”
“Oh, those? They are simply the buildings that are considered necessary
for the business of the city.”
“Is that so? I thought, perhaps, they were monuments to the dead, as you
have told me that your people erect such magnificent tributes to their
heroes.”
“They are, indeed, monuments to the dead, but not raised in their honor
as you suppose. Thousands of the poor have worked, suffered and died,
that a few men might reap rich harvests of gold, and it is that gold
which has built these magnificent buildings. For the thousandth part of
the money that it takes to build one of these structures, hundreds of
men have slaved out horrible existences, and have died without one gleam
of gladness ever having come into their lives.”
“But why does your ruler permit this? Why are not all alike, happy and
equal as in my land?”
“Ah, Ahleka, this is civilization. It would never do for every one to be
happy in this enlightened country. Equality is only to be found in
savage life. Such a thing as universal contentment could not be allowed
here. To keep the thousands from making any attempt at equality, it
requires the foot of prosperity to be kept firmly and constantly on the
neck of adversity.”
“But, Mabel, I thought that your country was different from other
countries. I thought that here, all men were free and equal, that one
man was as much respected as another, if he were honest and industrious.
That is what my father used to tell me. He has many times told me that
your country was the haven of refuge for the poor but honest men of all
other lands. Is this not true?”
“No, not in practice. It is the theory which we hold, but, alas! we do
not put into practice. It is the man who has heaped up gold that is
honored. Wealth, not worth, is the standard by which men are measured
now-a-days.”
As Mabel finished this remark the carriage stopped in front of a
substantial looking dwelling. Mabel sprang lightly out crying, “Come,
Ahleka, we are home.”
The bell sounded merrily, as she gave it a quick ring. It was answered
by her aunt, Mrs. Maynard, who, upon opening the door, regarded the pair
standing in front of her with a look of bewilderment for a moment, then
exclaimed, “Good heavens! Mabel, is it possible that you have come back?
But what a fright you do look in those clothes. Where in the world did
you get them? You look as if you had just come out of the ark. And what
is this——”
Before she could say another word, Mabel interrupted her with: “This is
Ahleka, the king of the island of Kaahlanai Aunt Kate, it is due to the
kindness of himself and his people that I am able once more to see you;
for it is they who have cared for my every want since we were
shipwrecked. But where is my father? Why don’t you tell him that I am at
home?”
As they had been talking, they had entered the parlor, and Mrs. Maynard
had seated herself as if there was nothing further to do, than to hear
all about Mabel’s adventures.
“Poor girl,” exclaimed Mrs. Maynard, “how thoughtless I am. I forgot
that of course you could not hear anything that had happened here at
home, when all this time we have not known where to send any letters to
you. Poor child, how lonesome you must have felt. How could you stand
it?”
“Oh aunt Kate, don’t talk of anything else, until you have told me of my
father. How is he and where? Is he at home? I want to go to him this
very minute.” As Mabel said this she started toward the door.
“Mabel, dear, come back and sit down,” said Mrs. Maynard, putting a
daintily embroidered handkerchief to her eyes, which, to tell the truth,
bore no traces of tears. “Your father,” she continued “is dead. He has
been dead for two years and over; he died—let me see, it was just ten
months after you left home. Of course we could not send you word as we
thought that you were drowned; in fact, I may say your father just
worried himself to death thinking of you, although I told him, time and
again, it was so foolish of him, for, if you were dead it couldn’t be
helped, and if you were alive, you would likely be taken care of
someway, as it really happened, you see. I never could see the sense of
worrying over things that way, but, my poor, dear brother was
different.” Mabel sat as if suddenly turned to stone, while her aunt
delivered this long diatribe. Slowly she seemed to recover herself and
turned to her aunt a face that was ashy in its pallor, as she almost
whispered:
“Dead! Aunt Kate, did you say dead? Oh! I never thought of this. My
father who was always so strong, dead! I always thought of him as broken
hearted by the loss of his daughter. Oh, my father, my father.” As these
words passed her lips her body swayed forward slowly and she would have
fallen to the floor, if Ahleka had not caught her in his arms. He laid
her gently on a couch, which stood near a window, supporting her head on
his arm. Mrs. Maynard rushed here and there about the room in a
fruitless search for some restorative, wringing her hands and crying:
“Oh dear, this is just like Mabel; she always did do such unexpected
things. I never saw any one like her.”
“Get some water,” said Ahleka, briefly, “and call some one who can
assist her.”
“I will get the water, but dear me I don’t want any one to see her until
she is properly dressed; for, of course, as she has just heard of her
father’s death she must put on mourning, even if he has been dead two
years.” With this she left the room, soon returning with the water
Ahleka had asked for.
Mabel slowly regained a sort of semi-consciousness, but for hours she
lay as motionless as one dead, except that her eyes sometimes moved
slowly about the room. The physician who had been summoned, gravely
shook his head as one remedy after another failed to have the desired
effect. The next day he pronounced it a case of brain fever.
For days Mabel hovered on the borders of the shadowy land of death.
Ahleka scarcely left her bedside, night or day, not withstanding the
fact that Mrs. Maynard was horrified at the frightful impropriety of
such a proceeding; in spite of all she would say or do, he would stay.