He rubbed a grimy hand over his stomach, murmuring,
faintly: "Cristo! It is hard to be a man when you smell things
cooking!"
XXV
THE HAUNTED GARDEN
Rosa Varona did not die. On the contrary, under her lover's care
she made so amazingly swift a recovery that improvement was
visible from hour to hour; she rallied like a wilted flower under
a refreshing rain. It was O'Reilly's presence as much as the
nourishing diet provided by his money which effected this marvel,
although the certainty that Esteban was alive and safe put added
force into her determination to live. Rosa found hope springing up
in her breast, and one day she caught herself laughing. The marvel
of it was unbelievable. O'Reilly was sitting beside her bed of
leaves at the time; impulsively she pressed his hand to her lips,
repeating a question she had asked him many times:
"Do you love me?"
For answer he bent and kissed her. What he said was of no
consequence.
Rosa held his hand against her cheek, at a loss for words with
which to voice her gladness.
"Such happiness as mine belongs in heaven," she managed to tell
him. "Sometimes it frightens me. With you by my side this prison
is a paradise and I want for nothing. War, suffering, distress--I
can't imagine they longer exist."
"Nevertheless, they do, and Matanzas is anything but a paradise,"
said he.
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