The Beaver herald. [volume] (Beaver, O.T. [Okla.]) 1895-1923, 1918-07-04

qua with Asensio and Evangeiina, former
slaves OF our father. Such poverty, such
indescribable circumstances! But they
were cur only friends and they took us
In when We were homeless. SO we love
them.
II this letter reaches you-and I send
II with prayer-what then? dare not
think too long Of that. for the hearts of
men are not like the hearts OF women.
What will you say when you learn that
the Rosa Varona whom you favored with
your admiration IL not the Rosa Of to-
dayf ! hear you murmur "The girl for.
gets herself"' But. oh. the standards Of
yesterday are gone and my reserve IL
gone. too! I am q hunted creature.
Rosa had compelled herself to start
with the death Of Donna Isabel and to
give him a succinct account Of all that
had followed. O'Reilly read the story.
fascinated.
That 10 how we came to live with Asensio
| and his wife. Imagine It! A bohio. hid
den away far up the Yumuri. Ind so in
| signihcant a. to escape attention. We are
no longer people OF consequence or au-
thority; our safety depends upon our In
conspicuousness
Tho whole country IL in chaos. There
II no work-nothing but suspicion. hatred.
| anu NtOlcuCo. Oh, Wnal Oe6OiatlOn tnlS
1 war has wrought! Esteban has already
become guerrillero. He has stolen q
COW. and so we have milk for our coffee;
but there IL only handful of coffee left.
and little hope OF more. Marauding bands
OF Spaniards are everywhere. and the
country people tell atrocious tales about
| them. How will II end? How long be-
fore they will discover US and the worst
will happen?
II only you were here Oh, my dear
| est Juan! II only you were hereto take
me in your arms and Danish this ever
constant terror at my heart. II only you
were here to tell me that you love me
still in spite OF my misfortune. See! The
tears are falling as write. You will re-
turn, will you not? I could not write like
this II I were sure that you would read
these lines. My nightly prayer But
will not tell you of my prayers. for fate
may guide this letter to you. after all
and the hearts of men do change. In
those dark hours when my doubts arise
try TO tell myself that you will surely
come and search me out
When you return to Cuba-see. my faith
Is strong sgain-avoid Matanzas. for your
own sake and mine. Don Mario wanted
to marry me to save me this exile. But
I refused; I told him I was pledged &c
full: he would balk you. and there is al
ways room for one more in San Severino
II I could come to you. would. but
am marke' So II you still desire me you
must searcn me out. You will? pin my
faith to that as to the Cross. To doubt
| would be to perish. II we should have tc
find another hiding-place. and that IL al.
ways likely. you can learn Of our where.
abouts from Colonel Lopez.
Alas! II you had asked mo to go with
you that day! I would have followed you
for my heart beat then as It beats today
for you alone.
The candle II burning low and II vii
soon be daylight. and then this letter must
begin its long. uncertain journey. I trust
the many blots upon the paper will moi
give you a wrong impression OF my writ
ing. for am neat. and I write nicely
only now the ink Is poor and there Is very
little of II. There Is little OF anything
here at Asensio's house, except tears. Oi
those fear there are too many to please
you. my Juan. for men do not like tears
Therefore try to smile as ! sign myself
Your loving and your faithful
ROSA.
o Godi Come quickly. II you love me.