rn M5 5 BET St SE pm COMMERCIAL — 9 A00ana Rainbow’s "A NOVEL by REX BE «HEART OF THE SUNSET," Etc. (Copyright, by Harper and Brothers) Author of “THE IRON TRAIL." “THE SPOILERS,"* End ACH , O'REILLY MAKES LOVE BADLY, BUT WELL ENOUGH TO Synopsis.—Don Esteban Varona, a Cuban planter, hides his wealth —money, jewels and title deeds—in a well on his estate. The hiding place is known only to Sebastian, a slave. Don Esteban’s wife dies at the birth of twins, Esteban and Rosa. Don Esteban marries the Esteban refuses, but in the course of a gambling orgie, he risks Evangelina at cards and loses. Crazed by the loss of his daughter, Sebastian kills Don Esteban and is himself killed. Many years pass and Donna Isabel is unable to find the hidden treasure. Don Mario, rich sugar merchant, seeks to marry Rosa, who has returned from gehool in the United States. lent view of the Yumuri, or the one hand, and of the town and harbor on the other; no one ever climbed the hill from the city to gaze over into that hidden valley without feeling a pleas- urable surprise at finding it still there. CHAPTER I111—Continued. ; “Good!” Don Mario rose to leave, for the exertion of his ride had made jim thirsty. “You may name your own geward for helping me and I will pay walk in her sleep tonight, if ever.” suppressing some light reply that had sprung to his lips, inquired, curiously, WIN THE HEART OF ROSA. “What do you mean by that?” ing that Donna Isabel was given to pe- culiar actions, especially after periods of excitement or anger, and that one of her eccentricities had taken the form of somnambulistic wanderings. “Oh, avaricious Donna Isabel, who tries unsuccessfully to wring the secret she’s crazy enough,” Esteban ‘con- of the hidden treasure from Sebastian. Angered at his refusal, she cluded. “I believe it's her evil con- urges Don Esteban to sell Evangelina, Sebastian’s daughter. Don science.” it the day Rosa marries me. Now kind- ly advise her of my intentions and tell her I shall come to see her soon.” ® * * - * ® ” It was quite true that Johnnie O'Reilly—or “The O'Reilly,” as his triends called him—had little in the way of worldly advantage to offer any girl, and it was precisely because of this fact that he had accepted a posi- tion here in Cuba, where, from the very pature of things, promotion was likely to be more rapid than in the New York office of his firm. A dancing eye speaks every lan- guage; a singing heart gathers its own audience. Before the yomng Irish- American had more than a bowing ac- guaintance with the commonest Span- ish verbs he had a calling acquaint- ance with some of the most exclusive people of Matanzas. He had adjusted himself serenely to his surroundings when Rosa Varona returned from school, but with her coming, away went all his complacency. His content- ment vanished; he experienced a total change in his opinions, his hopes, and his ambitions. He discovered, for example, that Ma- tanzas was by no means the outfof-the- way place he had considered it; on the contrary, after meeting Rosa once by accident, twice by design, and three times by mutual arrangement, it had dawned upon him that this was the chief city of Cuba, if not, perhaps, the bub aroitnd which the whole world re- volved; certainly it was the most agreeable of all cities, since it con- tained everything that was necessary for man’s happiness. Yet, despite the shrill of his awakening, O'Reilly was »You May Name Your Own Reward.” pot at all pleased with himself, for, as it happened, there was another girl pack home, and during his first year sf loneliness he had written to her more freely and more frequently than any man on such a salary as his had a right to do. Inasmuch as her father was O’Reil- 1y’s “company” it may be seen that Rosa Varona’s home-coming seriously complicated matters, not only from a sentimental, but from a business stand- point. It was in a thoughtful mood that he rode up La Cumbre toward the Quinta de Esteban, late on the afternoon of Dan Mario's visit. Instead of going di- rectly to the house, 8S the merchant had done, O'Reilly turned off from the road and, afier tethering his horse in a cluster of guava bushes, proceeded on foot. He did not like Donna Isabel, por did Donna Isabel like him. More- over, he had a particular reason for avoiding her today. Just inside the Varona premises he pausnd an instant to admire the out- dook. The quinta commanded an excel- We are accustomed to think of perfect beauty as unsubstantial, evanescent; but the Yumuri never changed, and in that lay its supremest wonder. Through what had once been well- tended grounds, O'Reilly made his way to a sort of sunken garden which, in spite of neglect, still remained the most charming nook upon the place; and there he sat down to wait for Rosa. The hollow was effectually screened from view by a growth of plantain, palm, orange, and tamarind trees; over the rocky walls ran a profusion of flowering plants and vines; in the cen- ter of the open space was an old well, its masonry curb all but crumbled away. When Rosa at last appeared, O'Reilly felt called upon to tell her, somewhat dizzily, that she was beyond doubt the sweetest flower on all the Quinta dé Esteban, and since this somewhat hack- neyed remark was the boldest speech he had ever made to her, she blushed prettily, flashing him a dimpled smile of mingled pleasure and surprise. “Oh, but I assure you I'm in no sweet temper,” said she. “Just now I'm tremendously angry.” “Why?” { “It’s that stepmother—Isabel. If she dreamed that I see you as often as I do— Well—" Rosa lifted her elo- quent hands and eyes heavenward. “1 suppose that’s why I enjoy doing it—I so dearly love to spite her.” “1 see!” O'Reilly puckered his brows and nodded. “But why, in that case, haven't you seen me oftener? ‘We might just as well have made the good lady’s life totally unbearable.” “Silly! She knows nothing about it.” With a flirtatious sigh Rosa add- ed: “That's what robs the affair of its chief pleasure. Since it does not bother her in the least, I think I will not al- low you to come any more.” After judicious consideration, O'Reil- ly pretended to agree. “There's no fun in wreaking a hor- rible revenge, when your enemy isn’t wise to it,” he acknowledged. “Since it’s your idea to irritate your stepmoth- er, perhaps it would annoy her if 1 made love directly to her.” Rosa tittered, and then inquired, naively, “Can you make love, senor?’ “Can 1? It's the one ability an O'Reilly inherits. Listen to this now.” Reaching forth, he took Rosa's fingers in his: *“Wait!” he cried as she resist- ed. “Pretend that you're Mrs. Varona, vour own stepmother, and that this is her dimpled hand I'm holding.” “Oh-h!” The girl allowed his grasp to remain. “But Isabel’s hand isn’t dimpled: it's thin and bony. I've felt it on my ears often enough.” “Don’t interrupt,” he told her. “Isa- bel, my little darling—" “Isabel’!” exclaimed a voice, and the lovers started guiltily apart. They turned to find Esteban, Rosa’s twin brother, staring at them oddly. “Isa- bel?” he repeated. “What's this?” “You interrupted our theatricals. 1 was rehearsing an impassioned pro- posal to your beloved stepmother,” O'Reilly explained, with a pretense of annoyance. “Yes, Senor O'Reilly believes he can infuriate Isabel by laying siege to her. He's a—foolish person—"” Rosa's cheeks were faintly flushed and her color deepened at the amusement in Esteban’s eyes. “He makes love wretchedly.” “What little I overheard wasn’t bad,” Esteban declared; then he took O’Reilly’s hand. Esteban was a handsome boy, straight, slim and manly, and his re- -semblance to Rosa was startling. With a look engaging in its frank di- rectness, he said: “Rosa told me about your meetings here and I came to apologize for our stepmother’s discour- tesy. I'm sorry we can’t invite you into our house, but—you understand? Rosa and I are not like her; we are quite liberal in our views; we are al- most Americans, as you see. I dare say that's what makes Isabel hate Americans so bitterly.” “Wouldn't it please her to know that I'm becoming Cubanized as fast as ever I can?’ ventured the calier. “Oh, she hates Cubans, too!” laughed the brother. “She’s Spanish, you know. Well, it’s fortunace you didn’t see her | | Rosa nodded soberly, and O'Reilly, Brother and sister joined in explain- O'Reilly scanned the speaker silent- ly for a moment; then he said, with’ a gravity unusual in him, “I wonder if you know that you're suspected of— working for the insurrecto cause.” “Indeed? I didn’t know.” “Well, it’s a fact.” O'Reilly heard Rosa gasp faintly. “Is it true?” he asked. “I am a Cuban.” “Cuban? Your people were Span- ish.” “True. But no Spaniard ever raised a Spanish child in Cuba. We are Cu- bans, Rosa and I. I go everywhere, and the Spanish officers talk plainly be- fore me. Somebody must be the eyes and the ears for Colonel Lopez.” “Colonel Lopez!” exclaimed O'Reilly. Esteban nodded. Rosa’s face, as she looked at the two men, was white and worried. For a time the three of them sat silent; then the American said, slowly, “You'll be shot if you're caught.” “Some one must run chances,” Este- ban averred. “We're fighting tyranny; all Cuba is ablaze. I must do my part.” “But sooner or later you'll be dis- covered—then what?” persisted O’'Reil- ly. Esteban shrugged. “Whos knows? There’ll be time enough when—" “What of Rosa?” At this question the brother stirred uneasily and dropped his eyes. O’Reil- ly laid a hand upon his arm. “You have no right to jeopardize her safety. Without you, to whom could she turn?” The girl flashed her admirer a grateful glance. “Senor, you for one would see that she—" “But—I'm going away.” ;O’Reilly felt rather than saw Rosa start, for his face was averted. “I came here to tell you both good-by. I may be gone for some time. I—I gon’t know when 1 can get back.” “I'm sorry,” Esteban told him, with genuine regret. “We have grown very fond of you. But you will come back before long, eh? Youre one of us. In the meantime I'll remember what you say, and at least I'll be careful.” By no means wanting in tact, Esteban rose briskly and, after shaking hands with O'Reilly, left the two lovers to say fare- well as best suited them. But for once O'Reilly's ready tongue was silent. The laughter was gone from his blue eyes when he turned to the girl at his side. “You say you are going away?” Rosa inquired, breathlessly. “But why?” “I'm going partly because of this war and partly because of—something else. I tried to tell you yesterday, but I couldn't. When the revolution start- ed everybody thought it was merely a local uprising, and I wrote my com- pany to that effect; but, bless you, it has spread like fire, and now the whole eastern end of the island is ablaze. Business has stopped, and my employ- ers have ordered me home to find out what's happened to their profits.” “you said there was something else—"" O'Reilly's hesitation became an em- harrassed silence. He tried to laugh it off. “There is; otherwise I'd stay right here and tell my penurious friends to whistle for their profits. It seems I'm cursed with a fatal beauty. You may have noticed it? No? Well, perhaps it’s a magnificent business ability that I have. Anyhow, the president of my company has a notion that I'd make him a good son-in-law.” “I— Oh!” cried Rosa. And at her tone O'Reilly hurried on: “These rich men have the most ab- surd idzas. I suppose I'll have to—" “Then you are in love, senor?” The young man nodded vigorously. “Indeed I am—with the sweetest girl in Cuba. That's the whole trouble. That’s why I'm hurrying home to re- sign before I'm fired.” Not daring to look too long or too deeply into Rosa varona’s eyes until she had taken in the whole truth, he waited, staring at his feet. “I'm sort of glad it has come to a show-down and I can speak out. I'm hoping she’ll miss me.” After a moment he ventured, “Will she—er— will you, Rosa?” «1? Miss you?’ Rosa lifted her brows in pretended amazement. “You are amusing, of course, but—I won't have much time to think about you, for I am so soon to be married.” “Married? What? Nonsense!” “Indeed! Do you think I'm so ugly nobody would have me? The richest man in Matanzas has asked for my hand this very afternoon.” “Who? Mario de Castano?” “Yes.” : 1 O'Reilly laughed with rgief, and though Rosa tried to look@offended. she was forced to smile. “Be’s fat, I know,” she admitted, dfte makes so badly, dear. science. back, won't you?” asked. b A@® | hungry yearning—and with a glad, in- is richer than Croesus, and I adore rich men.” «] hate ’em!” announced O'Reilly. Then for a second time he took Rosa’s dimpled hand, saying, earnestly: “I'm | mit! are you talking sbout?’ Her eyes met sure you know now why I make love It's my Irish con- And you'll wait until I come “Will you be gone—very long?” she O'Reilly looked deeply now into the dark eyes turned to his, and found that at last there was no coquetry in them anywhere—nothing but a lonesome, coherent exclamation he held out his arms. Rosa Varona crept into them; then with a sigh she upturned her lips to his. “I'll wait forever,” she said. CHAPTER IV. Retribution. Although for a long time Donna Isa- bel had been sure in her own mind that Pancho Cueto, her administrador, was robbing her, she had never mustered courage to call him to a reckoning. Nevertheless, De Castano’s blunt accu- sationy coupled with her own urgent needs, served to fix her resolution, and on the day after the merchant's visit she sent for the overseer, who at the time was living on one ef the plan- tations. Cueto was plainly curious to learn why he had been sent for, but since he asked no questions, his employer erty with the rest of his valuables, and now that you admit—" 3 “Will You Be Gone—Very Long?” She Asked. was forced to open the subject her- self. Through dry, white lips she be- gan: “My dear Pancho, times are hard. The plantations are failing, and so—" Pan- cho Cueto’'s eyes were set close to his nose, his face was long and thin and harsh; he regarded the speaker with such a sinister, unblinking stare that she could scarcely finish: “—and so {—can no longer afford to retain you as administrador.” “Times will improve,” he said. “Impossible! I tell you I'm bank- rupt.” “So? Then the remedy is simple— sell a part of your land.” Although this suggestion came natu- rally enough, Donna Isabel turned cold, and felt her smile stiffen into a gri- mace. She wondered if Cueto could be feeling her out deliberately. “Sell the Varona lands?’ she queried, after a momentary struggle with herself. “Es- teban would rise from his grave. No. It was his wish that the plantations go to his children intact.” “And his wish is sacred to you, eh?” Cueto nodded his approval, although his smile was disconcerting. “An ad- mirable sentiment! It does you honor! But speaking on this subject, I am re- minded of that dispute with Jose Oroz over the boundary to La Joya. I have promised to show him the original deed to La Joya and to furnish him with the proofs about the boundary line. That would be better than a lawsuit, wouldn't it?” “Decidedly! But—I will settle with him myself.” Cueto lifted an admonitory hand, his face alight with the faintest glimmer of ironic mirth. “I couldn’t trust you to the mercies of that rascal,” he said piously. “No, I shall go on as I am, even at a sacrifice to myself. I love Don Esteban’s children as my very own ; and you, senora—" Isabel knew that she must win a complete victory at once or accept ir- retrievable defeat. “Never!” she interrupted, with a tone of finality. “I can’t accept your sacrifice. I gm not worthy. Kindly arrange to turn over your books of ac- count at once.” Then Pancho Cueto did an unex- pected thing: he laughed shortly and shook his head. Donna Isabel was ready to faint and her voice quavered as she went on: “Understand me, we part the best of friends despite all'I have heard against you. 1 do not believe these stories people tell, for you probably have en- emies. Even if all they said were true, I should force myself to be leni- ent because of your affection for my much?” Don Esteban hid the deeds of his prop Donna Isabel recoiled sharply. “Ad- Are you mad? Deeds! What his bravely enough, but she could feel her lips trembling loosely. Casting aside all pretense, the over- seer exclaimed: “Por el amor de Dios! An end to this! I know why you sent for me. You think I have been rob- bing you. Weli, to be honest, so 1 have. Why should I toil as I do while you and those twins live here in lux- ury and idleness, squandering money to which you have no right?” “Have I lost my reason?’ gasped the widow. “No right?” “At least no better right than L Don’t you understand? You have nc title to these plantations! They are mine, for I have paid the taxes out of my own pockets now these many years.” “Taxes! What do you mean?” “I paid them. my name.” “Heaven! Such perfidy! who knew him!” 1 long that the property would have re- verted to the crown had it not been for me. You doubt that, eh? Well, ap- peal to the court and you will find that it is true. Now, then, let us be frank. Inasmuch as we'ré both in much the same fix, hadn't we better continue our present arrangements?’ He stared unblinkingly at his listener. “Oh, I mean it! Is it not better for you te be content with what my generosity prompts me to giwe rather than to risk ruin for both by grasping for toe “The outrage! I warrant you have grown rich through your stealing.” Isabel's voice had gone flat with con- sternation. “Rich? Well, not exactly, but com- fortably well off.” Cueto actually smiled again. “Ne doubt my frankness is a shock to you. You are angry at my proposition, en? Never mind. You will think better of it in time, if you are a sensible woman. But now, since at last we enjoy such confidential re- lations, let us have no more of these miserable suspicions of each other. Let us entirely forget this unpleasant misunderstanding and be the same good friends as before.” Having said this, Pancho Cueto stood silent a moment in polite expectancy; then receiving no intelligible reply, he bowed low and left the room. To the avaricious Donna Isabel Cue- to’s frank acknowledgment of theft was maddening, and the realization that she was helpless, nay, dependent upon his charity for her living, fairly crucified her proud spirit. All day she brooded, and by the time evening came she had worked) herself into such a state of nerves that she could eat no dinner. Some time during the course of the evening a wild idea came to Isabel. Knowing that the man- ager would spend the night beneath her roof, she planned to kill him. At first it seemed a simple thing to do— merely a matter of a dagger or a pis- tol, while he slept—but further thought revealed appalling risks and diffical- ties, and she decided to wait. Poison was far safer. Constant brooding over the treasure had long since affected Donna Isabel’s brain, and as a consequence she: often dreamed about it. She dreamed about it again tonight, and, strangely enough, her dreams were pleasant. Sebastian appeared, but for once he neither cursed nor threatened her; and Este- ban, when he eame, was again the lover who had courted her in Ha- bana. It was amazing, delightful. Esteban and she were walking through the grounds of the quinta and he was telling her about his casks of Spanish with iron, about the gold and silver or- naments of heavenly beauty and the pearls as large as plums. As he talked Isabel felt herself grow hot and cold with anticipation; she experienced spasms of delight. Then of a sudden Isabel's whole dream-world dissolved. She awoke, or thought she did, at hearing her name shouted. But although she underwent the mental and the physical shock of being startled from slumber, although she felt the first swift fright of a per- son aroused to strange surroundings, she knew on the instant that she must still be asleep; for everything about her was dim and dark, the air was cold and damp, wet grass rose to her knees. Before she could half realize her con- dition she felt herself piunged into space. She heard herself scream hoarsely, fearfully, and knew, too late, that she was indeed awake. Then— whirling chaos— A sudden, blinding crash of lights and sounds— Nothing more! * * - ® * * * Esteban Varona sat until a late hour that night over a letter which required the utmost care in its composition. It was written upon the thinnest of pa- per, and when it was finished the writer inclosed it in an envelope of the same material. Esteban put the wetter in his pocket without addressing it. Letting himself out into the might, he took the path that led to the old sunken garden. He passed close by the well, and its gaping mouth, only half protected by the broken coping, reminded him that he had promised Rosa to cover it with platks. In its present condition it was a menace to animals, if not to human beings who were unaware of its presence. Esteban’s support of the In- husband.” The man rose, still smiling. “It is I who have be »nient,” said he. “Eh? Speak plainly.” | today. Brr! What a temper! Rhae'll funny noises whan he t 1ti¢ : but he % “Gladly. I bave long suspected that surrecto cause brings disaster to | himself and Rosa. The next In- stallment tells of their plight. The receipts are in| Langwater Jewel And you | Border Raider sovereigns, about those boxes bound Glen Gable Farms Wyebrooke, Chester County, Pennsylvanis Announce an AUCTION of ONE HUNDRED REGISTERED GUERNSEYS Wednesday, June 19th, 1918 Starting at 10:30 a. m. Which will include daughters of the noted “MAY ROSE" Bulls, Langwater Cavaliex May Rose King 2d Beau Regal’ Fashion Plate’s May King: Largwater Rival, etc. “The deeds have been lost fOr 50 |p} p}. the feature of this sale will be the large number of two and three year: old heifers, bred to our herd sires. 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers