There she knew the sun
must rise and, as the first dazzling ray sparkled across the water, she
rose slowly until she stood erect, a slender, graceful figure against
the dim, gray rocks, and stretching her arms toward the East, spoke in
the musical words of her people.
"Oh, Waken-ate, great spirit-father," she pleaded, "have mercy on me.
Grant to me, thy humble daughter, one only boon. Grant, I pray thee,
that it need not be I wed with Torquam's friend, the pale-face stranger.
Well knowest thou I would not disobey my father, him the bravest and
most powerful of all thy warriors, him whom his people delight to honor,
and whom I strive to please. All the more I feel my duty since, many
moons ago, they laid my mother underneath the flowers. Yet, even so, I
cannot find it in my heart to wed with Don Cabrillo, dearly as does my
father wish it. Can'st thou not then, in thy great power, turn his
heart, oh lord of spirits, that he no longer may desire it? Help me in
this, my only trial, I pray thee, and in all else will I be indeed his
loyal daughter, - in all else save alone in this one thing!"
Her arms fell. Slowly she sank again to her knees, bending her head
until her forehead touched the ground. For many minutes she lay thus
prostrate while the glory of the rising sun bathed the sea in splendor.
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