Chief Te Wharepouri looked carefully at the faces of those gathered around him. He knew he was dying and didn't have much time left. Each day saw his condition worsen, and as any loving father, he was concerned for the happiness and future of his daughter. He was a good judge of character, it had helped him remain alive all these years, and from this small group of friends he felt genuine familial warmth that transcended race or culture.
He raised a trembling unsteady hand and, with some difficulty, slowly dabbed at the drool that ran from his mouth and onto his chin.
He felt reassured that Aroha would be taken care of, not only by her immediate family, but also by the Pakeha who sat here with him. He looked into Eleanor's eyes and then Andrew's, yes, he trusted them implicitly. He tu
