"But--I'm going away." O'Reilly felt rather than saw Rosa start, for his face was averted. Purposely he kept his gaze upon Esteban, for he didn't wish to see the slow pallor that rose in the girl's cheeks, the look of pain that crept into her eyes. "I came here to tell you both good-by. I may be gone for some time. I--I don't know when I can get back." "I'm sorry," Esteban told him, with genuine regret. "We have grown very fond of you. You will leave many friends here in Matanzas, I'm sure. But you will come back before long, eh?" "Yes, as soon as I can. That is, if--" He did not finish the sentence. "Good. You're one of us. In the mean time 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 farewell 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 started everybody thought it was merely a local uprising, and I wrote my company to that effect; but, bless you, it has spread like fire, and now the whole eastern end of the island is ablaze." "Esteban says it will be more terrible than the Ten Years' War." "God forbid! And yet all the old fighters are back again. Nobody believed that Maximo Gomez had returned, but it's true. And the Maceos are here, too, from Costa Rica. Antonio has already gained control of most of Santiago Province, and he's sweeping westward. Of course the Spaniards minimize the reports of his success, and we, here, don't understand what's really going on. Anyhow, business has stopped, and my employers have ordered me home to find out what's happened to their profits. They seem to hold me personally responsible for this insurrection." "I see. And when you have told them the truth you will come back. Is that it?" "I--Perhaps." "You said there was something else--" O'Reilly's hesitation became an embarrassed 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 absurd ideas. I suppose I'll have to--" "Then you are in love, senor?"