there is very little of it. There is little of anything, here at
Asensio'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.




VI

THE QUEST BEGINS


When O'Reilly had finished his second reading of the letter there
were fresh blots upon the pitifully untidy pages. "I write nicely,
only the ink is poor--" "There is little of anything here at
Asensio's house--" "It is cold before the dawn--" ... Poor little
Rosa! He had always thought of her as so proud, so high-spirited,
so playful, but another Rosa had written this letter. Her appeal
stirred every chord of tenderness, every impulse of chivalry in
his impressionable Irish nature. She doubted him; she feared he
would not come' to her. Well, he would set her doubts at rest. "O
God! Come quickly, if you love me." He leaped to his feet; he
dashed the tears from his eyes.