contrary. Those pages between his thumb and finger were real. Yes,
and that was Rosa's writing. Could it be that he had misunderstood
anything? He turned to the beginning and attempted to read, but
his hands shook so that he was obliged to lay the letter flat upon
his desk.

Rosa's Spanish training had been severely tried. The stiff, quaint
formality of her opening paragraphs only served to emphasize her
final frightened cry for help.

MY DEARLY BELOVED,--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. Believe me, I appreciate
the reserve which a young lady of refinement should practise even
in her correspondence with the gentleman who has honored her with
his promise of marriage, but my circumstances are such as to
banish consideration of the social niceties.

Alas! What events have followed your departure from Matanzas! What
misfortunes have overtaken Esteban and me. That happiness could be
so swiftly succeeded by misery, that want could follow plenty,
that peril could tread so closely upon the heels of safety! Where
to begin, how to tell you, I scarcely know; my hand shakes, my
eyes are blinded--nor dare I trust myself to believe that this
letter will ever reach you, for 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 our only friends and
they took us in when we were homeless, so we love them.