Kinau, surrounded by her kindred, was seen in an agitated state, frequently looking toward the Pelé of Nuanu, and wondering how the Great Spirit would interpose to save her beloved Tuanoa. Sometimes, full of hope, her countenance would brighten, and she appeared to possess new life; then again she would doubt the enchanter’s successful interference, and her spirits would sink. Thus was her gentle bosom torn with a thousand conflicting emotions. Despair for a moment shadowed her invincible spirit with his dark and death-hovering wings, and the beloved Kinau felt that she would willingly sacrifice her own life to save that of her lover. Tuanoa observed his adored girl with those acute feelings which the pencil can not paint nor the pen justly describe. He was bound to the insensate stake, which heard not the heart’s flutter or the despairing sigh—which felt not the tremulous shake of the confined but powerful limb that strove in vain to break from its moveless grasp. At last, despairing, he hung from his confinement, apparently a lifeless being. Another unfortunate but criminal victim was now given to the infuriated multitude and sacrificed; and the next was to be Tuanoa, the beloved and innocent Tuanoa, who was insensible now from the mental anguish he had suffered. To die so young, and such a horrid death—to go and leave his Kinau behind—this was more than he could bear, and he fainted from misery. The brave maiden could no longer bear this uncertainty. She rushed through the crowd of her kindred—scaled the walls of the inclosure—glided between the guards with a supernatural quickness, and encircled with her devoted arms her beloved. But the guards and the priests quickly proceeded to separate them; and now they unbound, and were about to thrust the bewildered Tuanoa among the savage group who thirsted for his blood. The gate of the inclosure was thrown open; already the savage hand was raised to smite with deadly violence; already the maddened and phrensied eyes of fanatic men were gleaming with murderous excitement to grace the royal death; the impatient, loyal crowd, heap upon heap, swayed to and fro in their eagerness to slay one of themselves—one, too, who had been formerly beloved by them, and for whom they would have made great sacrifices, but now hated and condemned; and they impatiently thirsted for his blood.