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"Haleakala," the pilot announced for their benefit. "The House of the Sun!"

Spreckelsville dominated the wide valley between the extinct volcano and the northern mountains, and beyond it mile upon mile of sugar-cane lay in the sun. The whole wide valley was lush with cane and the white ranch houses which dotted it were a planter's dream.

"Henri Duroc came here from France in the early part of the century," Charles explained. "It's been his home ever since."

"Did he marry a Frenchwoman?" Elizabeth asked, eager to hear the history of the plantation.

Charles hesitated.

"He did, in the end. Before he came out here he wanted to marry my grandmother," he said. "They were brought up in the same part of France and it was more or less expected of them," he added with a faint smile, "but she met my grandfather in Paris and that was that." He gave his attention to the scenery for a moment "She's never forgotten her youth, but I don't think she ever regretted her marriage. She made something rather special of it, you see."

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed, "I can imagine that"

"My grandfather was her constant companion till he died," Charles went on, "respecting her opinion and aware of her loyalty above everything else. Although my father's death must have been a great shock to her, she carried on where he had left off, determined that one day another Abercrombie would sit in her place."

"You and Jason," Elizabeth said.

He nodded.

"It's a simple enough story when you come to think of it," he concluded, "but as far as we're concerned it's unique. We hope there'll always be someone to carry on the Abercrombie name."

A son, Elizabeth thought, although neither of them was married. Perhaps Charles wanted that above all else, and it was quite natural, especially in a man who was justifiably proud of his lineage and the endeavour which had gone into the establishment of a prosperous shipping line.

They travelled through miles of cane fields, but there was little activity on the land.

"Something has gone wrong," Charles said.

When they reached the ranch house it was curiously still, yet Elizabeth had an odd sensation of being watched. Dark eyes with all the laughter gone out of them seemed to peer from every bush and, suddenly, there was the sound of a distant drum.

"I wonder what that means," said Charles.

The Polynesian driver brought the hire-car to a standstill before the ranch door, his face gravely concerned.

"You come at a bad time, sir," he offered. "The master is very sick."

A small, squat figure emerged from the house, her head covered by a dark scarf. She looked at them and turned away. Charles went towards the door across a broad verandah overhung with scarlet flowers, and suddenly his grandmother was standing there.

"Charles!" she exclaimed with the utmost relief in her voice. "How did you know?"

He took her into his arms, already guessing the truth.

"What went wrong?" he asked gently.

"He died early this morning. He died in my arms." She allowed him to hold her for a moment or two, resting her head on his shoulder for comfort. "I think he knew," she said, "and he wanted me to be here. My old and trusted friend!" Her eyes sought the distant outline of Haleakala. "He wanted to be buried here."

"When?" Charles asked.

"Tomorrow."

"Will you stay?"

She shook her head.

"I have done all I can do for him," she said. "His own people will bury him. I have complete faith in John Kapala. He has been a good manager, and Henri may even have left him the plantation, for all I know. The lawyer will come over from Honolulu in the morning." She turned to Elizabeth. "I'm very sorry about this, my child, giving you so much trouble, but it was something I had to do for an old friend. I had to stay with him in his hour of need."

"You mustn't worry at all about me," Elizabeth assured her. "Your message came through all right, although it was after Charles arrived."

A cart piled high with garlands of flowers came slowly along the carriageway, followed by a silent line of estate workers, Polynesians and Fijians mourning together over their loss. A tall, handsome man in a striped shirt and well-pressed jeans detached himself from the throng and came towards them, taking off his straw hat to acknowledge Elizabeth.

"This is John Kapala," Mrs. Abercrombie introduced them. "John, my companion, Miss Drummond, and my grandson from Scotland."

Gravely the Polynesian manager shook hands.

"You come at a time of sorrow," he said, "when we mourn a kind master."

He was a strong, powerful-looking man with immensely broad shoulders and a mane of thick, dark hair, but he had the trusting eyes of a child. He gazed at Charles, whom he remembered as a boy.

"We've met before, Mr. Kapala," Charles said. "You taught me to fish."

"I wondered if you would remember," said John, his eyes lighting up with pleasure. "Will you fish again, perhaps?"

"Not this time," said Charles. "I must get home to Scotland and get on with the task of sailing ships, but one day—who knows?"

"It is always best to make it today," John Kapala smiled. "You will return, of course," he added as a matter of fact. "Haleakala will call you back."

A meal was prepared for them which they shared with John on the creeper-covered verandah overlooking the estate. The fields which Henri Duroc had owned stretched on either side of them for as far as the eye could see, and beyond them dark mountains plunged to the ocean with only a narrow strip of land between. The trade winds blew across the valley and the sun shone above it, making it lush and fertile for the growing of sugar-cane, but how would it fare now that Henri Duroc had gone?

The lawyer from Honolulu would discuss that in the morning, reading Henri's will, but meanwhile the fate of two hundred plantation workers hung perilously in the balance.

"Whatever Henri has done he will have provided for them," Adele said as they prepared to leave. "John Kapala must have been in his confidence to that extent, at least"

The estate manager provided a car to take them to the airstrip.

"I am sorry you could not wait," he said, "but all will be done according to the master's wishes. You can be sure of that"

"I am sure, John," Mrs. Abercrombie said. "I'll be in touch with you, because I think you will be at Spreckelsville for a long, long time."

There were tears in John's eyes as they said goodbye.

"Come often," he invited, "if I am still here."

"Henri has provided for them," Adele told Charles as they boarded the plane. "How, he would not tell me, but I am sure it will be generously."

They flew back to Oahu as the sun dipped towards the western horizon, throwing long shadows against the mountainsides and on to the sea. In the half light all the rich background of legend and tradition that was Hawaii seemed to come alive, lingering from the older, primitive Hawaii, land of kings and conquest and strange, imaginative gods. Elizabeth knew that she was never likely to see it again. She was coming to the end of a wonderful adventure, made possible by the woman who sat by her side, but even before they reached San Francisco her task might be over. With Charles here to look after his grandmother for the remainder of the journey to Scotland her companionship might no longer be necessary.

She looked round at Adele Abercrombie, seeing the lines etched about her mouth and at the corners of her eyes. The old lady was showing her age for the first time.

"I feel quite tired," she confessed when they finally reached the hotel. "I want to do nothing but sleep."

Elizabeth went up in the lift with her.

"Rest for a while," she advised, "and then perhaps you'll feel like coming down to dinner."

Adele shook her head.

"I'm going to have something sent up," she decided. "Something light. That little Polynesian girl will attend to me, and then I shall take two of my very effective pills and sleep and sleep until the morning."

Charles agreed with her plan.

"She's probably been up all night," he said.

"I'll sit with her," Elizabeth offered.

But Adele would have none of it.

"You and Charles must dine together in a civilised manner," she declared. "You mustn't worry about me. I shall be coddled and pampered by Luana and her sister as only Polynesian women know how, so off you go and dress. I shall simply be unconscious to the world from eight o'clock onwards."

Charles half expected the command. It had taken Elizabeth a long time to pass on his grandmother's suggestion and he recognised her reluctance.

"Would you rather not come?" he asked abruptly.

"So long as we don't go too far away," she suggested.

"It's a sticky night. I was going to take you both out on a catamaran."

"I'd love that," said Elizabeth, "but how long would it take?"

"Two hours."

She went to look in on her employer to make absolutely sure that she could do nothing more for her.

Adele was sound asleep, guarded by the two Polynesian girls who were willing to sit by her side all night, if need be.

"We'll risk it," Charles decided when she reported to him. "It's as hot as an oven in the restaurant, in spite of the air-conditioning."

They sailed into the blaze of colour which was the aftermath of the tropical sunset, cruising along Waikiki's glittering coastline in the big twin-hulled catamaran which was patterned on the fast, ocean-going vessels of ancient Polynesia, A little wind crept out of the distance to fan their heated brows and little, secret waves whispered against the twin hulls. A sadness for which she could not account descended on Elizabeth, but Charles seemed content. They sat on one forepeak watching the sky turning from vermilion through orange and yellow to a hazy mauve which lay along the horizon till the first stars shone out.

A special
okolehao
punch was served to them on deck by a smiling steward, and presently they went below to share a lavish meal with the five other passengers taking the cruise. They were all pleasant Americans spending a well-earned holiday in the way they thought best, and for three of them, at least, it appeared to be the experience of a lifetime.

On deck again, Charles sat with his arm along the rail, shielding Elizabeth from the persistent little night wind which had sprung up while they were below. It had a sting in its breath, Elizabeth thought, like the chill of parting.

"You're suddenly very quiet," Charles remarked.

"I was thinking about yesterday—and today," she answered truthfully. "And perhaps I was also thinking about tomorrow. I don't want this to come to an end, although I know it has to, like most dreams."

"You've been trying to convince me that you weren't a dreamer ever since we met," he pointed out lazily. "I was to consider you practical and as hard as flint."

"Wasn't that what you wanted?"

"I thought it the best possible protection for my impractical grandmother."

"You're very fond of her."

He smiled in the starlight.

"Who wouldn't be? She can be exasperating at times, but she makes up for it in a thousand different ways, and she's extremely generous if she thinks someone needs her help. She can also be hopelessly pigheaded, of course," he added, "when she considers she is doing something for the best. Grand'mere with a Cause is the most daunting thing one can come up against."

"She's the most delightful person I've ever known," Elizabeth said generously. "You must be very proud of her."

"I wouldn't want her to know that," Charles laughed. "She would take immediate advantage of the fact."

He seemed a different person now, relaxed and happy as they sailed back to Waikiki. Two great stars hung over Diamond Head, glittering in the blue dome of heaven as they waited for the moon, and Elizabeth turned her face up to them, thinking how often she would remember this moment in the weeks to come.

Charles moved beside her and suddenly she was in his arms. Their , lips met in a long, lingering kiss which blotted out the sky and the stars and the sea for one moment of ecstasy, while the bitter little wind fretted in the rigging above their heads to no avail.

Charles was first to draw away.

"We're almost there," he said harshly, looking beyond her. "Almost back to reality."

The catamaran was approaching the shore and the landing-stage from which it had set sail two hours ago, and all along the beach the harsh kerosene flares on their long black poles marked the pathways to the hotel and the end of their day. 'Back to reality', Charles had called it, and reality for him could be complete forgetfulness. "Their romantic cruise could be nothing more than an interlude in a busy work schedule as far as he was concerned, something to be swiftly forgotten and put behind him because it had been meaningless.

Elizabeth stiffened at the thought, accepting his guiding hand as she negotiated the gangplank and felt her feet sinking into the soft, warm sand where she had gone barefooted in his company only the night before. It seemed two thousand years ago, but it was only really a kiss away.

They walked slowly under the trees in the light of the flares till they reached the hotel.

"A nightcap?" he asked conventionally.

She shook her head.

"I must go up to your grandmother. Thank you, Charles, for a wonderful evening."

Her voice had been anything but steady, and she ran from him before he could reply.

Adele Abercrombie's room was dim and quiet when she reached it and Luana tiptoed across the floor to ensure her that all was well.

"She sleeps sound, like a baby," she smiled. "She is very, very tired."

"Thank you, Luana," Elizabeth whispered. "I'll take over now. I'm just in the next room," she explained.

She left the communicating door ajar, hearing the Polynesian girl's soft footfall as she went away along the corridor to her own quarters. It was almost midnight, but sleep was far from her thoughts. For a long time she stood out on her balcony watching the stars, seeing the rising moon reflected on the bay and feeling the bitter little wind against her cheek.