Spring in very truth was there.

And looking down upon it from her cavern bower high above the beach,
watched the Princess Wildenai. Kneeling there, the light of dawn shining
on her long black hair, she was, herself, the sweetest blossom of the
spring. Loveliest was she among all the maidens of the Mariposa and of
royal blood besides; although of this the great chief Torquam, who even
at that moment lay sleeping in his lodge of deerskin on the crescent
beach below, knew more than he had ever told.

With eyes rapt, her breath scarcely stirring the folds of softest
fawnskin drawn across her breast, the princess bent her gaze to where
the waves ran silver on the ocean's distant rim. 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!"