The king, Hoapili, had been dangerously ill for some days, and the active mind of Kinau saw the dreadful chasm which might be opened to receive her in the event of the king’s death. She knew that Nahi had the power of choosing one of the victims for the sacrifice, and the thought almost bereft her of her senses. She well knew that Tuanoa, the brave and beloved Tuanoa, would be sacrificed to the revenge of the cruel eric; and, under these trying circumstances, the constitution of Kinau evidently began to decline, much to the grief of her lover, who perceived his beautiful companion, like a lovely flower beset by the canker-worm, silently robbed of her beauty. He saw the devastation it committed, but could not discover its retreat. Kinau still kept the secret within her own breast. One evening, as, to their minds, the sun was once more going to rest in the deep bosom of the ocean, the lovers reclined on the shelving and moss-covered rocks which were near to the habitation of Kinau, in the beautiful valley of Menoa. The broad-leaved banana waved around them, and fanned their cheeks with the sweet-scented evening air, when, just as the Pelé of Nuanu cast its deep shadow across the valley of her fathers, a distant cry of sorrow fell upon the ears of the unhappy pair. To Kinau’s mind the cause was revealed in an instant. “The king is gone!” shrieked the unhappy maid. “Oh, Tuanoa, let us fly; let us bury ourselves in the depths of the ocean, for death is for us also!” The extreme agitation of her mind robbed her of her senses; and as she lay, apparently without life, in the arms of her beloved and thunder-stricken Tuanoa, a number of their friends quickly approached the scene to render assistance, and to inquire the cause of the outcry.