Presently the princess came and sat by the side of her aunt, the queen. Ihoas bowed herself away and as quickly disappeared below, where she sought relief and opportunity in the crowded garden. She had a duty to perform, and though her position must be an embarrassing one, her appearance could but arouse interest, invoking both happiness and hope. On the steps at the veranda in front Ihoas met Aokahameha accompanied by Colonel Young; they had disposed of their commands at the armory and returned to pay respects and join in the festivities at the villa. The one tall, dark and austere: the other slight, fair and genteel, they doffed their helmets to the stately princess as she met and congratulated them upon the events of the day. There was indeed a wide contrast between the old-time feats of chivalry, as exemplified in the one, and the modern heraldic display, underlying the martial supremacy of the other; yet Ihoas was brave, and with her memory running back and her heart yearning for still another she made no distinction, greeting them alike with a heartiness that bespoke neither preference nor prejudice. Perhaps Floyd Young may have conjured a distrust in her composure, but he became quite undeceived as to his comrade’s position, for the young prince unconsciously betrayed the secret of his love. Designing not to intrude upon good will, Young withdrew and sauntered into the midst of the gayety on the lawns. Not a few offered words of felicitation as the deserving young officer passed on, addressing this one or recognizing that one, but none seemed to express more than passing interest in what he had hoped to be the most successful military parade the little kingdom had seen. The seeming indifference stung him sharply, but he remembered that this was the queen’s day, however loyal the opposition, and acting in obedience to natural impulse turned toward the portico where his eyes met fairly those of the princess, Kaiuolani. The dazzling garnishments of his regalia glittered in the sunlight and heightened the sparkle in Kaiuolani’s eyes as he bowed and turned to shake the hand of Mr. Elmsford—Oscar Donworth Elmsford—a discarded English duke, an artist by profession, but at that time a resident manager who stood high in social circles at the capital city, Honolulu. A frown crossed the queen’s brow; she had witnessed the glance of recognition, which had so inadvertently passed between the two, and as quickly engaged the princess in conversation. Young did not observe the apparent change in her majesty’s countenance, but continued talking to his neighbor, Elmsford, till presently Ihoas again came upon the scene of his discomfiture. This faithful intermediary had had her say with Aokahameha, and left him standing in the shade of the veranda, debating whether to follow and press his claim for a true love or go above and encourage a false one. He had understood Ihoas’s warning only too well, but for that did not believe her lost to him,—although she had positively declared her preference for the man that she was at that very moment approaching,—and as to Kaiuolani: she was entirely too frolicsome for him, and he doubted even her aunt’s ability to govern her decision in any manner, much less about a thing so vital as that of marriage. The sudden turn of affairs disturbed but did not overwhelm the puzzled man, who stood momentarily debating his proper course, then entered the house and ascended the stairs. Turning, Young again paid his respects to the designing Ihoas. A slight flush perceptibly reddened his face. A new thought possessed him; he would use her to relieve himself and disarm others as to the possible thought of any rising intimacy with Kaiuolani. Barely granting Ihoas an opportunity to recognize the artist manager, whom she had grown to love with a passion characteristic only of her race, Young said, banteringly: “You do me undeserved honor, in granting me this the second opportunity to greet you this morning. Will you join me while paying respects to Sir Charles, the princess Kaiuolani’s father? He is over there, in the shade of the old historic palm—let us go.” The thought of arousing Kaiuolani’s jealousy suddenly flashed into Ihoas’s mind. Possibly she may have divined a submerged interest in herself, lurking in the colonel’s motive: if so, she was mistaking; withal her dignified bearing and noble sentiment, Floyd Young at heart preferred another kind of quest. And when he really led her away his only purpose augured of the subtle art of diplomacy. His every hope was founded upon the progress of events, and from the time he had landed in Honolulu—an ambitious but penniless youth, from far distant New York, a recent graduate from Columbia, educated in the law and honorably discharged from the State militia—his advance had been due to his sterling grasp with opportunity, his ideals founded upon what he believed to be the ultimate decree of human greatness—the military strength of a country, the force behind the throne and the arbiter of God’s eternal law. Love, with him, was an essential trait of manly existence, but its rite should be more: marriage must be made the stepping-stone to a broader usefulness, used to round out a sphere in which man attains his noblest virtue, serves in the molding and wielding of destiny. A union with the heir apparent would strengthen his position and open the way to a larger development, but the time had not yet come nor was it advisable upon this occasion to publish even the possibility of so daring a prospect. If he could only check the impetuous princess, and confuse the minds of others, by paying some unusual attention to Ihoas, he should gain a positive advantage; so he led the advance adroitly, and his willing victim—of the same mind, but with a different end in view—assisted in the ruse with all the grace and likelihood at her disposal. “By jove,” said the surprised Englishman, to himself, as the others walked away; “she has cut me cold! I wonder if she really means it? I hope so, at all events. I can’t stand her pose: it lacks in perspective. Besides, a respite would give me the chance to trim my sails for a more likely princess.” Elmsford once more shifted positions, always keeping himself in the open and within sight of the portico, frequently adjusting his eyeglass and vainly assuming a bearing strictly in accord with his shrivelled dignity. His robust figure and odd mannerism finally attracted the queen’s attention, causing her to remark, pleasantly: “I wonder who is the guest in fancy dress? He seems to be always looking this way!” “Oh, that is Mr. Elmsford—the gentleman papa has given the privilege of doing my portrait in oil. He is really an interesting character; and, they say, of the English nobility. We shall, no doubt, see more of him before the day is out,” said Kaiuolani, in her characteristically careless way. “I trust not; at least, until after the leis” (a kind of ceremony, at which the victor in the games—formerly literally, but at that time figuratively—was crowned with a garland by the queen of flowers, usually a chosen princess). “Any sort of a coxcomb from over there becomes a gentleman immediately he is stranded upon our shores. I am very weary of it all,” replied the queen, with emphasis. “But, aunty, they are so nice; and then, you know, the ‘foreigners’ have given us so much of civilization—they say, all that we have,” continued the princess, innocently. “They say so; but, I vow, we have not gained so very much. There was far more contentment and much less distress before they set their treacherous feet upon our sacred soil. Excuse me, dear; I should not talk like that; but, I cannot help giving vent to my feelings, at times,” said Liliuokolani, proud, and unable to restrain the deep and abiding sorrow that welled up from her hard-tried benevolence. “Never mind, aunty; everything will in time come out for the best. We all love you, and will comfort you, no matter what the consequences,” said Kaiuolani, moved with natural sympathy. “I do wish that Aokahameha would come; we can trust him, and he is such a noble man. I should choose him to others less qualified if more pretentious,” answered the queen, guardedly concerned as to Kaiuolani’s attitude. The princess did not answer, but her thoughts went out, in a myriad aspects, to the crowning event of the day. It had of right fallen to her to place the braided wreath upon the brow of a chosen champion, and there arose no question in her mind as to the choice she should make, yet the pathos of her majesty’s situation appealed momentarily to Kaiuolani’s sympathy. Judgment seemed a thing quite foreign to her temperament, and she sat battling between love and affection till presently Aokahameha walked into their presence, bidding both a friendly good-morning. Kaiuolani brightened. It mattered not so much who the visitor might be, just so his coming brought new interest; for remaining there on that portico, alone with her aunt, on so delectable a morning, amid such a host of admirers, became almost unbearable. “I am so glad you came, Aoka—aunty and I were this moment talking about you—the parade was just lovely—how I do admire the—horses!” said Kaiuolani, without stopping to regain her breath or divine the effect of her speech. “The prince deserves our compliments,” said the queen, quickly and earnestly. “Thank you,” replied he, bowing. Perhaps Aokahameha’s unsympathetic answer caused her majesty to hesitate further conversing,—Kaiuolani waited for him to introduce a more inviting subject,—and the prince, glad that the queen had stopped short of then and there betrothing them, the hapless culprits, leaned against the railing and pondered anxiously an incident accidentally noticed while approaching. On reaching the top of the stairs, having trod softly over the noiseless carpet, the prince had involuntarily hesitated before entering the boudoir, through which he must pass to gain access to the portico, and observed through the wide open door one of her majesty’s ladies in waiting hidden behind the folds of the drapery, overhanging the exit, and within convenient hearing distance of Kaiuolani and the queen. The recognition, instantaneous and unpleasant as it proved to be, was mutual, and Martha Norton, flushed and confused, tried as best she could to divert attention by pretending to have been arranging Liliuokolani’s private writing table, the most convenient if suspicious article at hand. Aokahameha paused suddenly, then recovering himself walked in and through the room to the portico in front without manifesting the slightest concern or pretending to notice the surprised woman’s unbecoming act. The unexpected meeting, however, though to neither of them no more disconcerting than pleasing, revealed to him a pressing danger.