Jasper County Democrat, Volume 21, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 April 1918 — RAINBOW'S END A NOVEL [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

RAINBOW'S END A NOVEL

By REX BEACH

'7Zf/&2V77PAJL ~ ~7H£’JPQ!L£y?<s ” CDPyRT&HT >B v HARPER. ANDBROTHERS. .1

CHAPTER 1.

The Valley of Delight. In all probability your first view of the valley of the Yumuri will be from the Hermitage of Montserrate. for it is there that the cocheros drive you. There you overlook the fairest sight in all Christendom —“the loveliest valley in the world,” as Humboldt called it — for the Yumuri nestles right at your feet, a vale of pure delight, a glimpse of Paradise that bewilders the eye and fills the soul with ecstasy. Standing beside the shrine of Our Lady of Montsejrate, you will see beyond the cleft through which the river emerges another hill, La Cumbre, from which the view is wonderful, and your driver may tell yoti about the splendid homes that used to grace its slopes in the golden days when Cuba had an aristocracy. Your cochero may point out a certain grove of orange trees, now little more than a rank tangle, and tell you about the quinta of Don Esteban Varona, and its hidden treasure ; about little Esteban and Rosa, the twins; and about Sebastian, the giant slave, who died in fury, taking with him the secret of the well. The Spanish Main is rich in tales of treasure-trove, for when the Antilles were most affluent they were least secure, and men were put to strange shifts to protect their fortunes. Cer- ' tain hoards, like jewels of tragic history, in time assumed a sort of evil personality, not infrequently exercising a dire influence over the lives of those ■who chanced to fall under their spells. It was as if the money were accursed, for certainly the seekers often came to evil. Of such a character was the Varona treasure. Don Esteban himself was neither better nor worse than other men of his time, and although part of the money he hid was wrung from the toil of slaves and the traffic in their bodies, much of it was clean enough, and in time the earth purified it all. Since his acts made so deep an

impress, and since the treasure he left | played so big a part in the destinies of those who came after him, it is well that some account of these matters should be given. The story, please remember, is an old one; it has been often told, and in the telling and retelling it is but natural that a certain glamour, a certain tropical extravagance, should attach to it, therefore you should make allowance for some exaggeration, some accretions due to the lapse of time. In the main, however, it is well authenticated and runs parallel to fact. Donna Rosa Varona lived barely long enough to learn that she had given birth to twins. Don Esteban, whom people knew as a grim man, took the blow of his sudden bereavement as became one of his strong fiber. Leaving the priest upon his knees and the doctor busied with the babies, he strode through the house and out into the sunset, followed by the wails of the slave women. Don Esteban was at heart a selfish roan, and now, therefore, be felt a sullen, fierce resentment mingled with his grief. What trick was this? he asked himself. What had he done to merit such misfortune? Had he not made rich gifts to the church? Had he not knelt and prayed for his wife’s safe delivery and then hung his gifts upon the sacred image, as Loyola had hung up his weapons before that other counterpart of Our Lady? Don Esteban scowled at the memory, for those gems were of the finest. He looked up from his unhappy musings to find a gifcanfic barefooted negro standing before him. The slave was middle-aged; his kinky hair was growing gray; but he was of | superb proportions, and the muscles I which showed through the rents in his ; cotton garments were as smooth and | supple as those of a stripling. His black face was puckered with grief, as he began: “Master, is it true that Donna Rosa —” The fellow choked. , “Yes,” Esteban nodded, wearily, “she is dead, Sebastian.” Tears came to Sebastian’s eyes and overflowed his cheeks; he stood motionless, striving to voice his sympathy. At length he said: “She was too good for this world. God was jealous and took here to Paradise.” The widowed man cried out angrily: “Paradise ! What is this but Paradise?” He stared with resentful eyes at the beauty round about him. “See! The Yumuri!” Don Esteban flung a long arm outward. “Do you think there is a sight like that in heaven? Paradise indeed! I gave her everything. She gained nothing by dying.” With a grave thoughtfulness which proved him superior to the ordinary slave, Sebastian replied: "True! She had all that any wom- / an’s heart could desire, but in return > for your goodness she gave you chil- ' dren. You have lost her, but you have gained an heir, and a beautiful girt

baby who will grow to be another Donna Rosa. I grieved as you grieve, once upon a time, for my woman died in childbirth, too. You remember? But my daughter lives, and she has brought sunshine into my old age. That is the purpose of children.” He paused and shifted his weight uncertainly, digging his stiff black toes into the dirt. After a time he said, slowly: “Excellency! Now, about the —well —?” “Yes. What about it?” “Did the Donna Rosa * confide her share of the secret to anyone? Those priests and those doctors, you know—” “She died without speaking.” ’ “Then it rests between you and me?” “It does, unless you have babbled.” “Master!” Sebastian drew himself up and there was real dignity in his black face. “Understand, my whole fortune is there —everything, even to the deeds of patent for the plantations. If I thought there was danger of you betraying me I would have your tongue pulled out and your eyes torn from their sockets.” The black man spoke with a simplicity that carried conviction: “Times are unsettled, Don Esteban, and death comes without warning. You are known so be the richest man in this province and these government officials are robbers. Suppose —I should be left alone? What then?’ The planter considered for a moment. “Well, when my children are .old enough to hold their tongues they will have to be told. If Um gone, you shall be the one to tell them. Now leave me; this is no time to speak of such things.” Sebastian went as noiselessly as he had come. On his way back to his quarters he took the path to the well —the place where most of his time was ordinarily spent. Sebastian had dug this well, and with his own hands he had beautified its surroundings until they were the loveliest on the Varona grounds. It was Sebastian's task to keep this place green, and thither he took his way, from force of habit. Through the twilight came Pancho Cueto, the manager, a youngish man, with a narrow face and bold, close-set eyes. Spying Sebastian, he began: “So Don Esteban has an heir at last?’ The slave rubbed his eyes with the heel of his huge yellow palm and answered, respectfully: “Yes, Don Pancho. Two little angels, a boy and a girl.” His gray brows drew together in a painful frown. “Donna Rosa was a saint. No doubt there is great rejoicing in heaven at her coming. Eh? What do you think?” “Um-m! Possibly. Don Esteban will miss her for a time and then, I dare say. he will remarry.” At the negro’s exclamation Cueto said: “So! And why not? Everybody knows how rich he is. From Orient e to Pinar del Rio the women have heard about his treasure.”

“What treasure?” asked Sebastian, after an instant’s pause. Cueto’s dark eyes gleamed resentfully at this show of ignorance, but he laughed. “Ho! There’s a careful fellow for you! No wonder he trusts you. But do you think I have neither eyes nor ears? My good Sebastian, you know all about that treasure; in fact, you know far more about many things than Don Esteban would care to have you tell. Come now, don’t you?” Sebastian’s face was like a mask carved from ebony. “Of what does this treasure consist?” he inquired. “I have never heard about it.” “Of gold, of jewels, of silver bars end precious ornaments.” Cueto’s head was thrust forward, his nostrils were dilated, his teeth gleamed. “Oh, it is somewhere about, as you very well know! Bah! Don’t deny it. I’m no fooL What becomes of the money from the slave girls, eh? And the sugar crops, too? Does it go to buy arms and ammunition for the rebels? No. Don Esteban hides it, and you help him. Come,” he cried, disregarding Sebastian’s murmurs of protest, “did .you ever think how fabulous that fortune must be by this time? Did you ever think that one little gem, one bag of gold, would buy your freedom ?” > “Don Esteban has promised to buy my freedom and the freedom of my girt.” “So?” The manager was plainly surprised. “I didn’t know that” After a moment he began to laugh. “And yet you pretend to know nothing about that treasure? Hal You’re a good boy, Sebastian, and so I am. I admire you. We’re both loyal to our master, eh? But now about Evangelina.” Cueto’s face took on a craftier expression. “She is a likely girl, and when she grows up she will be worth more than you, her father. Don’t forget that Don Esteban is before all else a business man- Be careful that some one doesn’t make him so good an offer for your girl that he will forget his promise and —sell her.” Sebastian uttered a hoarse, animal ery and the whites of his eyes 'showed

through the gloom. “He would never sell Evangelina!” Cueto, laughed aloud once more. “Of course! He would hot dare, eh? lam only teasing you. But see! You have given yourself away. Everything you tell, me proves that you know all about that treasure.” >. , “I know but one thing," the slave declared, stiffening himself slowly, "and that is to be faithful to Don Esteban.” He turned and departed, leaving Pancho Cueto staring after him meditatively. '7: 7-77 In the days following the birth of his children and the death of his wife, Don Esteban Varona, as had been his custom, steered a middle course in politics, in that way managing to avoid a clash with the Spanish officials who ruled the island, or an open break with his Cuban neighbors, who rebelled beneath their wrongs. Esteban dealt diplomatically with 1 both factions and went on raising slaves and sugar to his own great profit. - The’ twins, Esteban and Rosa, developed into healthy children and became the pride of Sebastian and his daughter, into whose care they had been given. As for Evangelina, the young negress, she grew tall and strong and handsome, until she was the finest slave girl in the neighborhood. Then, one day, Don Esteban Varona remarried, and the Donna Isabel, who had been a famous Habana beauty, came to live at the quinta. The daughter of impoverished parents, she had heard and thought much about the mysterious treasure of La Cumbre. Before the first fervor of his honeymoon cooled the groom began to fear that he had made a serious mistake. Donna Isabel, he discovered, was both vain and selfish. Not only did she crave luxury and display, but with singular persistence she demanded to know all about her husband’s financial affairs.

Now Don Esteban was no longer young; age had soured him with suspicion, and when once he saw himself as the victim of a mercenary marriage he turned bitterly against his wife. Her curiosity ne sullenly resented, and he unblushingly denied his possession of any considerable wealth. In fact, he tried with malicious ingenuity to make her believe him a poor man. But Isabel was not of the sort to be readily deceived. Finding her arts and coquetries of no avail, she flew into a rage, and a furious quarrel ensued — the first of many. For the lady could not rest without knowing all there was to know about the treasure. She searched the quinta, of course, whenever she had a chance, but she discovered nothing—with the result that the mystery began to engross her whole thought. She pried into the obscurest corners, she questioned the slaves, she lay awake at night listening to Esteban’s breathing, in the hope of surprising his secret from his dreams. At length a time came when they lived in frank enmity; when Isabel never spoke to Esteban except jn reproach or anger, and when Esteban unlocked his lips only to taunt his wife with the fact that she had been thwarted despite her cunning. It was only natural uryler such conditions that Donna Isabel should learn to dislike her stepchildren —Esteban had told her frankly that they would inherit whatever fortune he possessed. As may be imagined, she foqnd ways to vent her spite upon the twins. She widened her hatred so as to include old Sebastian and his daughter, and even went so far as to persecute Evangelina’s sweetheart, a slave named Asensio.

It had not taken Donna Isabel long to guess the reason for Sebastian’s many privileges, and ( one of her first efforts had been to win the old man’s confidence. It was in vain, however, that she flattered and cajoled, or stormed and threatened; Sebastian withstood her as a towering ceiba withstands the summer heat and the win-* ter hurricane. His firmness made her vindictive, and so in time she laid a scheme to eStrange him from his master. Donna Isabel was crafty, She began to complain about Evangelina, but it was only after many months that she ventured to suggest to her husband that he sell the girl. Esteban, of course, refused point-blank ; he was too fond of Sebastian’s daughter, he declarer], to think of such a thing. “So, that is it,” sneered Donna Isabel. “Well, she is young and shapely and handsome, as wenches go. I rather suspected you were fond of her —” With difficulty Esteban restrained an oath. “You mistake my meaning,” he said stiffly. “Sebastian has served me faithfully, and Evangelina plays with my children. She is good to them; she. is more of a mother to them than you have ever been.” “Is that why you dress her like a lady? Bah! A likely story*!” Isabel tossed her fine, dark head. “I’m not blind; I see what goes on about me. I won’t have that wench in my house.” Goaded to fury by his wife’s senseless accusation, Esteban cried: “Your house? By what license do you call it yours?” “Am I not married to you?” “Yes —as a leech is married to its victim. You suck my blood.” “Your blood 1” The woman laughed shrilly. “You have no blood; your veins run vinegar. You are a miser.” “Miser! Miser! I grow sick of the word. It is all you find to taunt me with. Confess that you married me for my money,” he roared. “Of course I did! Do you think a woman of my beauty would marry you for anything else? But a fine bargain I made!” * “Vampire!” "Wife or vampire, I Intend to rule this house, and I refuse" to be shamed by a thick-lipped African. Her airs tell her story. She is insolent to me,

but —I sha’n’t endure it. She laughs at me. Well, your friends shall laugh at you.” “Silence!” commanded Esteban. “Sell her, ow-” Without waiting to hear her threat Esteban tossed his arms above his head and fled from the room. Flinging himself into the saddle, he spurred down the hill and through the town to the Casino de Espanol, where he spent the night at cards with the Spanish officials. But he did not sell Evangelina. hrthe days that followed many similar scenes oceurre 1, and as Esteban’# home life grevv more unhappy his dissipations increased. He drank and gambled heavily; he brought his friends to the quinta with him, and strove to forget domestic unpleasantness in boisterous revelry. His wife, however,'found opportunities enough to weary and exasperate him with reproaches regarding the slave girl. (TO BE CONTINUED.)