Jasper County Democrat, Volume 21, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 June 1918 — RAINBOW'S END A NOVEL [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

RAINBOW'S END A NOVEL

By REX BEACH

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r SYNOPSIS, •• - x ' z*" CHAPTER I—Don Esteban Yaron*. a guban plainer, possesses a great treasure oard. This wealth has been hidden In a well on the estate by Sebastian, a slave, and only he and his master know the secret cache. Don. Esteban’s wife dies at the birth of twins, Esteban and Rosa. Don Esteban marries the avaricious Donna Isabel, who knows there is hidden treasure and tries to wring the secret from Sebastian. When the slave refuses she tries to hurt him by having Evangelina, his daughter, whom he, loves dearly and who Is the special servant of the twins, sold. CHAPTER ll—Through Donna Isabel’s scheming Don Esteban risks Evangelina at cards and loses. Crazed by the loss of his daughter, Sebastian kills Don Esteban and himself. CHAPTER lit—Many years Donna Isabel searched for the hidden wealth of the man she had married. A few years later •he seeks to marry Rosa to the rich Don Mario, but Rosa is promised to O'Reilly, the American, and awaits his return from New York, whence he has gone to break Off his engagement to his employer's daughter. Esteban is secretly aiding the Insurreetos. CHAPTER V. A Cry From the Wilderness. New York seemed almost like a fof*elgn city to Johnnie O’Reilly when he stepped out into, it on the morning after his arrival. For one thing it was bleak and cold: the north wind, hailing direct from Baffin's bay. had teeth, and It bit so cruelly that he was glad when he found shelter in the building which housed the offices of the Carter Importing company. The troth is O’Reilly was not only cold but frightened.

It was not the effect of his report concerning the firm’s unprofitable Cuban connections which he feared—► Samnel Carter conld take calmly the most disturbing financial reverse —it was the blow to his pride at learning that anybody could prefer another girt to, his daughter. Johnnie shook his shoulders and stamped Ms feet, but the chill in Ms bones refused to go. He went to meet Ms employer as a man marches to execution. His heart sank further at the welcome he received, for tbe importer gave him a veritable embrace; he patted him on the back and inquired three times as to his health. O'Reilly was anything but cold now; he was perspiring profusely and he felt Ms collar growing limp. To shatter tMs old man’s eager hopes would be like kicking a Child ia the face. Carter had never been so enthusiastic, so den* nstrative; there was something almost theatrical in his greeting. “Well, my boy, you made a fizzle of it, didn’t you?” The tone was almost complimentary. “Yes, sir, I'm a bright and shining failure.” “Now, don’t ‘yes, sir’ me. We're friends, aren’t we? Good! Understand, I don’t blame yon in the least — It’s that idiotic revolution that spoiled our business. You did splendidly, under the circumstances.” “They have reason enough to revolt—oppression, tyranny, corruption.” O’Reilly mumbled the familiar words In a numb paralysis at Mr. Carter’s jovial familiarity.

“All Latin countries are corrupt." announced the importer —“always have been and always will be. They thrive under oppression. However, I dare say this uprising won’t last long.” Johnnie wondered why the old man didn’t get down to cases. “It’s more than an uprising, sir,” he said. “The rebels have overrun the east end of the island, and when I left Maceo and Gomez were sweeping west.” . “Bah! It takes money to run a war." “They have money,” desperately argued O’Reilly. “Marti raised more than a million dollars, and every Cuban cigar maker in the. United States gives a part of his wages every week to the cause. The best blood of Cuba is in the fight Spain is about basted; she can’t stand the strain.”

“I predict they’ll quit fighting as soon as they get hungry. The government is starving them out However, they’ve wound up our affairs for the time being, and —” Mr. Carter carefully shifted the position of an inkwell, a calendar and a paper knife—“that brings us to a consideration of your and my affairs, doesn’t it? Ahem! You remember our'bargain? I was to give you a chance and yon were to make good before you-—er —planned any—er —matrimonial foolishness with my daughter.” “Yes, sir.” O’Reilly Te’t that the moment had come for his carefully rehearsed speech, but, unhappily, he could not remember how the swansong started. Mr, Carter, too, was unaccountably silent. Another moment dragged past, then they-chorused. “I have an unpleasant—•” Each broke off at the echo of his own wprds. “What’s that?” inquired the im- ' porter. You were saying—" “I was thinking how lucky it is that you and Elsa waited Hm-m! Yery fortunate.” Again Mr. Carter rearranged his desk fittings. “We some

times differ. ETSi and I. but whefi Sue sets her heart on a thing I see that she gets it, even if I think she oughtn’t to have it. What’s the use of having children if yon can’t spoil ’em, eh?” He looked up with a sort of resentful challenge, and when Ms listener appeared to agree with Mm he sighed with satisfaction. “Early marriages are silly—but she seems to think otherwise. Maybe she’s right. AnyJjmv she’s licked me. I’m done. She want?) to be married right away, before we go west. That's why I waited to see you at once. You won’t object, will TOC ? We men have to take our medicine.” “It’s quite out of the question,” stammered the unhappy O’Reilly. “Come, come! It’s tough off yon, I know, but—” Johnnie had a horrified vision of himself being dragged unwillingly to the altar. “Elsa is going to have what she wants, if I have to break something. If you’ll be sensible I’ll stand behind you like a father and teach yon the business. Tm getting old, and Ethelbert conld never learn It. Otherwise —•” The old man’s jaw art; his eyes began to gleam angrily. "Who is—Ethelbert?” faintly inquired O'Reilly. “Why. dammit! He’s the fellow I’ve been telling yon about. He’s not so bad as he sounds; he’s really a nice boy—- “ Elsa is in love with another man? Is that what yon mean?" “Good Lord, yes! Don’t you understand English? I didn’t think you’d take it so hard—l was going to make a place for you here in the office, but of course if— Say! What the deuce ails yon?” Samnel Carter stared with amazement. for the injured victim of his daughter’s fickleness had leaped .to his feet and was shaking Ms hand vigor-

ously, meanwhile uttering unintelligible sounds that seemed to signify relief, pleasure, delight—anything except what the old man expected. “Are yon crazy, or am I?” he queried “Yes, sir; delirious. <■ It’s this way, sir; I’ve changed my mind, too.” - “Oh—! Yon have?” , “Tve met the dearest, sweetest”—* O’Reilly choked, then began again—“the dearest, loveliest —” “Never mind the bird-calls—don’t coo! I get enough of that at home. Humph! It turned out better than I thought. Why, I—l was positively terrified when yon walked in. I ought to be offended, and I am, bat — Get out while I telephone Elsa.” O’Reilly spent that evening in writing a long letter to Rosa Varona. Other letters went forward by succeeding posts, and-there was no doubt now that O’Reilly’s pen was tipped with magic! He tingled when he reread what he had written. He bade Rosa prepare for his return and their immediate marriage. O’Reilly’s love was unlimited; his trust in the girl was absolute. He knew, moreover, that she loved and trusted him. This, to be sure, was amiracle —a unique phenomenon which never ceased to amaze him. He did not dream that every man had felt the same vague wonder. And so the time passed rapidly. But, strange to say, there came no answer to those letters. O’Reilly cursed the revolution which had made communication so uncertain; at length he cabled, but still the days dragged on with no resale Gradually his lmna-

tience gave way to apprehension. Great was Ms relief, therefore, when one day a worn, stained envelope addressed in Rosa’s hand was laid upon his desk. The American stamp, the Key West postmark, looked strange, but— Her first letter! O’Reilly wondered if his first latter 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. , It was a generous epistle, long and closely writteh, but as he read his keen delight turned to dismay, and when he had turneji the last thin page his brain 'was in’ wildest turmoilj He thought he must be dreaming. Could it be that he had misunderstood anything? He turned to the beginning and attempted to read, but his hands shook so that lie was obliged tfi lay the letter flat upon his desk. My Dear Belovfp: It is with diffidence and hesitation that I take my pen 'in hand, for I fear you may consider me unduly forward in writing to you without solicitation. Alas! We are refugees, Esteban and I —fugitives, outcasts, living in the manigua with Asensio and Evangelina, 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. If this letter reaches you—and I send it 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 Rosja of today? I hear you murmur, “The girl forgets herself!” But, oh, the standards of yesterday are gone and my reserve is gone, too! I am a 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 sfory, fascinated. •

That is how we came to live with Asensio and his wife. Imagine it! A bohio, hidden away far up the Yumuri, and so insignificant as to escape attention. We are no longer people of consequence or authority: our safety depends upon our Inconspicuousness. 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 Spaniards are everywhere, and the country people tell atrocious tales about them. How will it end? How lons before they will discover us and the worst will happen? If only you were here — Oh, my dearest Juan! If only you were here—to take me in your arms and banish this ever constant terror at my heart. If only you weie here to tell me that you love me still In spite of my misfortune. See! The tears are falling as I write. You will return, will you not? I could not write like this if I were sure that you would read these lines. My nightly prayer— But I 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 come and search me out. When you return to Cuba —see, my faith Is strong again—avoid Matahzas, 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 powerful; he would balk you, and there is always 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 that as to the Cross. To doubt would be to perish. If we should have to find another hiding-place, and that is always likely, you can learn of our whereabouts from Colonel Dopes. 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 Its long, uncertain journey. I trust the many blots upon the paper will not give you a wrong impression of my writing, for I am neat, and I write nicely; only now the ink is poor and there is very littie of it. There Is little of anything, here at Asensfo’s house, except tears Of those I fear there are too many to please ,you, my Juan, for men do not like tears. Therefore I try to smile as I sign myself, Your loving and your faithful ROSA. O God! Come quickly, If you love me. CTO BE CONTINUED.) .

"Are You Crazy, or Am I?" He Queried