Americans -- Cuba -- Fiction; Spanish-American War, 1898 -- Fiction
I do not think that there can be an everlasting hell except for those
who wish to dwell in darkness. I do not think there can be perpetual
punishment except for those who do not wish to climb beyond it. Ruth and
Father Felix felt that this was so, although the good Priest tried to
think far otherwise, and, yet, deep down within his inner consciousness,
he felt that God, although He is so just, yet pities those who err and
welcomes all who wish to put their sins behind them in the path they
find themselves upon, no matter whether they may find that path upon the
earthly plane or on a higher one. They turned away from that white cot
with almost God-like pity in their inmost hearts for him who lay there,
or for him who had just left his body lying there upon that little cot.
Ruth sought Estrella so that she might not, again, behold the face of
him, who, for the love of her, had done a fearful crime; she wished to
save the girl for she had been as innocent of wrong as she, herself, had
been; both had been led away by human passion, it is true, but led
within the bounds of human law, and, so, according to that human law,
neither one was culpable ... the man, alone, had sinned, and whether it
had been because he had been stronger, every way, than were the women in
the case, we cannot judge. 'Tis God alone must judge us all, and may He
guide us all, at last, into the light that is His holy Smile.
CHAPTER XVII
When Ruth had left the cot where Manuello died, she, first, found
Estrella and told her what had happened after she had gone, and, then,
as she had liberty to go where she desired, she started out, just as the
dusk was falling, to drive along an unknown road, which as she thought
must lead away from the battle-field; she felt secure for armed men of
her own race and nation were patrolling all the roads surrounding the
hospital; the freshness of the coming night appealed to her and, under
its enticing influence, she went much farther than she meant to do; her
horses often shied at little heaps that seemed to take on most fantastic
shapes with the increasing darkness.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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