Belington progressive. [volume] (Belington, W. Va.) 1912-1927, 1918-07-25

qua with Asensio and Evangelina, former
slaves of our father. Such poverty, such
indescribable circumstances But they
we're our only friends and they took us
in when we were homeless, SO we love
them.
If this letter reaches you-and I send
It with prayer-what then? I 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 is not the Rosa of to-
gets herselfr' But, oh, the standards of
yesterday are gone and my reserve is
gone, tool I am a hunted creature.
Rosa had compelled herself to start
with the death of Donna Isabel and to
give him succinct account of all that
had followed. O'Reilly read the story,
fascinated.
That is how we came to live with Asensio
and his wife. Imagine it! A bohio, hid
den away far up the Yumuri, and so in
significant as to escape attention. We are
no longer people of consequence or au-
thority; our safety depends upon our in
| conspicuousness.
| The whole country is in chaos There
is no work-nothing but suspicion, hatred,
and violence. Oh what desolation this
war has wrought! Esteban has already
become guerrillero. He has stolen a
COW, and so we have milk for our coffee;
but there is 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 1t end? How long be-
| fore they will discover US and the worst
will happen?
If only you were here oh, my dear
est Juan If 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 if / 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
! I try to tell myself that you will surely
J come and search me out.
| When you return to Cuba-see, my faith
is strong again-avoid Matanzas, for your
own sake and mine. Don Mario wanted
| to marry me to save me this exile. But
l refused I told him I was pledged to
you. and he was furious. He is power
| full; he would balk you, and there is al
ways room for one more in San Severino.
| If I could come to you, I would but ]
am marked. So If you still desire me you
must search me out. You will? I pin my
| faith to that as to the Cross. To doubt
would be to perish. If we should have to
find another hiding-place, and that is al
ways likely. you can learn of our where
abouts from Colonel Lopez.
| Alas! II you had asked me 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 is burning low and it will
soon be daylight and then this letter must
begin its long, uncertain journey. I trust
the many blots upon the paper will not
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 it. There is little of anything
here at Asensios house except tears. OF
those / fear there are too many to please
you, my Juan, for men do not like tears
Therefore I try to smile as 1 sign myself
Your loving and your faithful
I ROSA.
God! Come quickly, If you love me.