Cuba -- History -- Revolution, 1895-1898 -- Fiction
"I'm going to take you away," she exclaimed, forcefully.
Esteban stroked her hand softly. "You can't do that, Miss Evans. You
have been wonderful to me and I can't begin to express my gratitude--"
Norine stirred, but he retained his grasp of her fingers, gaining
courage from the contact to proceed. "I have been trying for a long
time to tell you something. Will you listen?"
Norine possessed a dominant personality; she had a knack of tactfully
controlling and directing situations, but of a sudden she experienced a
panic-stricken nutter and she lost her air of easy confidence.
"Not now," she exclaimed, with a visible lessening of color. "Don't
bother to tell me now."
"I've waited too long; I must speak."
Norine was amazed at her own confusion, which was nothing less than
girlish; she had actually gone to pieces at threat of something she had
long expected to hear.
"I know how tired of this work you have become," the man was saying. "I
know you're eager to get back to your own work and your own life."
"Well?"
"You have stayed on here just to nurse me. Isn't that true?"
She nodded somewhat doubtfully.
"Now then, you must stop thinking about me and--make your arrangements
to go home."
Norine eyed the speaker queerly. "Is THAT what you have been trying so
long to tell me?" she inquired.
"Yes."
"Is that--all?"
There was a moment of silence. "Yes. You see, I know how tired you are
of this misery, this poverty, this hopeless struggle. You're not a
Cuban and our cause isn't yours. Expeditions come from the United
States every now and then and the Government will see that you are put
safely aboard the first ship that returns. I'll manage to get well
somehow."
Norine's color had returned. She stood over the hammock, looking down
mistily. "Don't you need me, want me any more?" she inquired.
Esteban turned his tired eyes away, fearing to betray in them his utter
wretchedness. "You have done all there is to do. I want you to go back
into your own world and forget--"
A sudden impulse seized the girl. She stopped and gathered the sick man
into her young, strong arms. "Don't be silly," she cried. "My world is
your world, Esteban dear. I'll never, never leave you."
"Miss Evans! NORINE!" Varona tried feebly to free himself. "You
mustn't--"
Norine was laughing through her tears. "If you won't speak, I suppose I
must, but it is very embarrassing. Don't you suppose I know exactly how
much you love me? Why, you've told me a thousand times--"
"Please! PLEASE!" he cried in a shaking voice. "This is wrong. I won't
let you--you, a girl with everything--"
"Hush!" She drew him closer. "You're going to tell me that you have
nothing, can offer me nothing. You're going to do the generous, noble
thing. Well! I hate generous people. I'm selfish, utterly selfish and
spoiled, and I don't propose to be robbed of anything I want, least of
all my happiness. You do love me, don't you?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account