The Kadoka press and Kadoka reporter. [volume] (Kadoka, S.D.) 1910-1923, 1918-06-07

qua with Asensio and Evangelina, former
slaves of our father. Such poverty, such
| indescribable circumstances! But they
we're cur only friends and they took us
in when we were homeless so we love
them.
| If this letter reaches you-and send
II with a 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 is not the Rosa OF to-
day? | hear you murmur ''The girl for
! gets herselfr But oh, the standards OF
yesterday are gone and my reserve is
/ gone too! 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'll 4 bohio, hid
den away far UP the Yumurl and so tn
significant as TO escape attention. We are
no longer people OF consequence or au-
thorlty; our safety depends upon our in
| conspicuoIHness.
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 a guerrillero. He has stolen a
COW. and so we have milk for our coffee;
but there is only a handful Of coffee left,
and little hope OF more. Marauding bands
of Spanards 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?
II 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 I write. You will re-
turn, will you not' 1 could not write like
this II l 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. IL
, those dark hours when my doubts aris'
, I try to tell myself that you VIII surely
come and search me out
, When you return to Cuba-see. my faitl
IL strong again-avoid MatanZas. for you
, own sake and mine Don Mario wanteC
, to marry me TO save me this exile. Blu
I refused told him l was pledged 4
9 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
II could come to you, | would, but
am marked. So II you still desire me yo'
I must search me out. You will? pin m,
faith TO that as to the Cross. To doub
would be to perish. II we should have {
I 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 wit
YOU that day! would have followed you
4 for my heart beat then as II beats today
for you alone.
The candle Is burning low and It vii
soon be daylight. and then this letter mus
begin its long. uncertain journey. l trus
the many blots upon the paper Will no
give you a wrong impression of my writ
ing for am neat and I write nicely
l only now the Ink is poor and there Is yer
little Of It, There Is little OF anything
here at Asensio's house, except tears y
those fear there are too many TO pleas
l you. my Juan for men do not like tear:
| Therefore try to smile as sign myself
Your loving and your faithful
ROSA.
o God. Come quickly. IL you love me.