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I took the well-remembered path, and before I had walked halfway to the house I met a middle-aged man of commanding presence, who halted at sight of me. Our eyes met, and for an instant neither spoke.

“Tuahu?” I said.

“Byam!” He stepped forward to clasp me in the Indian embrace. There were tears in his eyes as he looked at me. Presently he said, “Come to the house.”

“I was on my way there,” I replied, “but let us stop a moment where we can be alone.”

He understood perfectly what was in my mind, and waited with downcast eyes while I mustered up courage to ask a question his silence answered only too eloquently.

“Where is Tehani?”

“Ua mate—dead,” he replied quietly. “She died in the moon of Paroro, when you were three moons gone.”

“And our child?” I asked after a long silence.

“She lives,” said Tuahu. “A woman now, with a child of her own. Her husband is the son of Atuanui. He will be high chief of Taiarapu one day. You shall see your daughter presently.”

Tuahu waited in considerate silence for me to speak. “Old friend and kinsman,” I said at last, “you know how dearly I loved her. All these years, while my country has been engaged in constant wars, I have dreamed of coming back. This place is a graveyard of memories, and I have been stirred enough. I wish to see my daughter; not to make myself known to her. To tell her that I am her father, to embrace her, to speak with her of her mother, would be more than I could endure. You understand?”