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.