Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1918-05-23

TO those letters. O'KeilIy cursed the
revolution which had made commune
cation so uncertain; at length he
cabled, but still the days dragged on
with no result. Gradually his impa.
thence gave way to apprehension.
Great was his relief, therefore, when
n day a worn, stained envelope ad.
dressed in Rosa's hand was laid upon
his desk. The American stamp, the
Key West postmark, looked strange,
but Her first letter! O'Reilly Won
dered if his first letter to her could
possibly have moved her as this moved
him. He kissed the envelope where
her lips had caressed it in the sealing.
Then with eager fingers he broke it
open.
1t was a generous epistle, long and
closely written, but as he read his keen
delight turned to dismay, and when
he had turned the last thin page his
brain was in widest turmoil. He
thought he must be- dreaming. Could
it be that he had misunderstood any,
thing? He turned to the beginning and
attempted to read, but his hands shook
so that he was obliged to lay the letter
fiat upon his desk.
My Dear Beloved: 1t is with diffdence
and hesitation that 1 take my pen in
hand, for I fear you may consider me
unduly forward in writing to you with
out solicitation.
Alas! We are refugees, Esteban and I
-fugitives, outcasts, living in the mani
slaves of our father. Such poverty, such
indescribable circumstances! But they
were our only friends and they took US
in when we were homeless, so we love
them.
If this letter reaches you-and I send
1t with a 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-
day? I hear you murmur, "The girl for
gets herself" But, oh, the standards of
yesterday are gone n my reserve is
gone, too! I am a hunted creature.
Rosa had compelled herself to start
with the death Of Donna Isabel and to
SISC iii a SUBMIT dSSOull VI Ill llldL
had followed. O'Reilly read the story,
Fascinated.
That Is how we came to live with Asensio
and his wife. Imagine 1t! 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.
thorlty; our safety depends upon our in
conspicuousness.
The whole country is in chaos. There
1s no work-nothing but suspicion, hatred,
and violence. Oh, what desolation this
war has wrought! Esteban has already
become a guerrillero. He has stolen a
cow, and so we nave milk for our coffee;
but there is only a 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 it enc? How long be-
fore they will discover us n the worst
will happen?
If only you were here oh, my dear
est Juan! If only you we're hereto take
me In your arms and Danish this ever
constant terror at my heart. If only you
were here to tell me that you love me
still in spite Of my misfortune. See! The
tears are falling as I write You will re-
turn, will you not? I could not write like
SAAAo a. ! ooA ShAhS yOo "oo4o ACdu
these lines. My nightly prayer But I
will not tell o 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
T try to tell myself that you will surely
come Il 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
I 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 I
am marked. So if you still desire me you
must search me out. You will? I pin my
faith to tina as to the Cross. To doubt
would be to perish. If we should ave to
find another ~hiding-place, and hat is al
ways likely, you can learn Of our where
abouts from Colonel Lopez.
Alas! If 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 it's long, uncertain journey. I trust
the many blots upon the paper will not
give you a wrong impression of my writ
ing, for I am neat, and I write nicely:
only nor the ink is poor and there is very
little of it. There is little of anything,
here at Esensio's house, except tears. OF
those I fear there are too many to please
you, my !tuan, for men do not like tears.
Therefore I try to smile as I sign myself,
Yout loving and your faithful