t me," Kokua panted, "take the good with the evil--ask
to be delivered from your cough."

"I am an old man," replied the other, "and too near the gate of the
grave to take a favour from the devil.--But what is this? Why do you not
take the bottle? Do you hesitate?"

"Not hesitate!" cried Kokua. "I am only weak. Give me a moment. It is my
hand resists, my flesh shrinks back from the accursed thing. One moment
only!"

The old man looked upon Kokua kindly. "Poor child!" said he, "you fear;
your soul misgives you. Well, let me keep it. I am old, and can never
more be happy in this world, and as for the next--"

"Give it me!" gasped Kokua. "There is your money. Do you think I am so
base as that? Give me the bottle."

"God bless you, child," said the old man.

Kokua concealed the bottle under her holoku, said farewell to the old
man, and walked off along the avenue, she cared not whither. For all
roads were now the same to her, and led equally to hell. Sometimes she
walked, and sometimes ran; sometimes she screamed out loud in the night,
and sometimes lay by the wayside in the dust and wept. All that she had
heard of hell came back to her; she saw the flames blaze, and she smelt
the smoke, and her flesh withered on the coals.

Near day she came to her mind again, and returned to the house. It was
even as the old man said--Keawe slumbered like a child. Kokua stood and
gazed upon his face.

"Now, my husband," said she, "it is your turn to sleep. When you wake it
will be your turn to sing and laugh. But for poor Kokua, alas! that
meant no evil--for poor Kokua no more sleep, no more singing, no more
delight, whether in earth or heaven."

With that she lay down in the bed by his side, and her misery was so
extreme that she fell in a deep slumber instantly.

Late in the morning her husband woke her and gave her the good news. It
seemed he was silly with delight, for he paid no heed to her distress,
ill though she dissembled it. The words stuck in her mouth, it mattered
not; Keawe did the speaking. She ate not a bite, but who was to observe
it? for Keawe cleared the dish. Kokua saw and heard him, like some
strange thing in a dream; there were times when she forgot or doubted,
and put her hands to her brow; to know herself doomed and hear her
husband babble seemed so monstrous.

All the while Keawe was eating and talking, and planning the time of
their return, and thanking her for saving him, and fondling her, and
calli