On the day of Manuello's search for the girl he had so madly and hopelessly loved, old Mage made a surreptitious visit to the little cemetery in San Domingo where she had seen the body of Victorio Colenzo laid away in its final resting-place; she went among the new-made graves, of which there were a goodly number for so small a graveyard, until she found the one she sought: she stopped, then, took the dried leaves from the top of her large basket, removed a beautiful bunch of roses, tied, carefully, with a broad blue ribbon, and laid them, softly, upon the top of the mound of fresh earth; after having done this, she took a small object wrapped in tissue paper, from the very bottom of the basket, dug a small hole under the roses and buried it, covering it carefully, packing the ground over it, at first, and, then putting loose earth over the top of the miniature grave, so as to conceal its existence as much as possible, she again laid the roses carelessly over the spot.

Having performed this little ceremony, old Mage looked down at her handiwork and said, apparently addressing herself, as no other human being was in sight at the time:

"There! Now I hope that she will forget all about him ... she will think that she has mislaid the ring ... I had a hard time to get hold of it. I hope that it will never come to life again any more than him ... let them both lay there together. You lying pup, you!" she cried, shaking her trembling old fist at the grave. "You lay there and don't you ever try to come near my dear young Lady again! The idea of an ignorant thing like you ever daring to come near her, anyway. I wouldn't be so darned mad at you," she ended, "for you were a mighty good-looking fellow and any woman might have been proud of your appearance, once she could overlook your dark skin, but you even fooled me, doggone you! You lay there, now, and never do you dare to try to fool any more women ... three of us is enough in this neighborhood, anyway."

She drew a long sigh of relief after this speech and hurried out of the cemetery with her empty basket; she had slipped away when she thought no one was observing her and intended to tell Ruth after her return what she had done with the exception of any reference to the ring which, as the reader may have guessed, was the wedding ring that Ruth had, up to this time, kept always on her left hand or in her jewel-case on her little dressing-table before which she always sat when she combed and brushed her long and beautifully luxuriant brown hair; she had taken the ring off the night before, little dreaming that she was touching it for the last time, and sadly laid it among her jewels, thinking of the bright face and laughing dark eyes that had looked so handsome to her when he had put that little ring upon her finger, whispering of his undying love and of the fact that she and she alone was, and had been since his first meeting with her, the entire mistress of his hither-to untouched heart; she had even shed a few tears over the little ring, then, and old Mage, silently witnessing this fact, determined that she should never again have that opportunity; so, after Ruth was sweetly sleeping, the old woman slipped into her room and removed the object of her scorn; she lay awake almost all of that night, planning how to secrete or do away with the visible bond that had united her dear young Lady to an unworthy mate; at length, toward daylight, it seemed to old Mage as if someone had whispered to her what to do with the ring so that poetic justice would be done to the first youthful passion of Ruth Wakefield's innocent life; acting upon this suggestion, for so it seemed to her, feeling sure that she had solved the problem so nearly affecting the life of the one she loved best in all her world, she carried out the plan she instantly formed, and, while she was a very weary old woman, from lack of sleep and unusual exercise, when she again reached her much-loved home, she had within her spirit a sense of satisfaction that was beyond anything she had felt since Ruth had married the man whose grave she had, that morning, visited; she felt, in some sense, to blame for the marriage, as she had not strenuously opposed it, and found herself much in the position she used to occupy when Ruth had been a little tot and she had allowed her to do some small thing of which she knew her parents would not approve.

Now, she felt relieved because, as it seemed to her, she had sort of evened up matters, and, after informing Ruth that she had gone to the grave and put the roses there, she never intended to speak of Victorio Colenzo again, and, as far as possible, she intended to rid Ruth of his memory; with this thought in mind, she picked up many little memontos of him which she found lying about the place ... a guitar here and a ribbon there ... a photograph, perhaps, showing the dashing young Cuban in military dress, which much became him, or mounted on a fine horse which he, for the moment, had secured the use of ... even in one picture he appeared standing, proudly, behind Ruth as if protecting her; all of these and anything else that old Mage could find that would inevitably remind Ruth of the man she had married, she destroyed ruthlessly and with inward glee; her object in all this was, really, to protect her dear young Lady, and, yet, at the same time, she had as nearly a fiendish delight as it was possible for her ever to entertain, in, as she naÏvely put it to herself, "getting even" with the handsome fellow who had "pulled the wool over" her own eyes as well as the brighter and stronger ones of her young Lady.

Ruth Wakefield was never enlightened as to this little by-play, but she reaped the benefits of it in many ways, for it is true that visible reminders are necessary to a great many people, and, even the strongest minds are affected by the sudden sight of something reminding them of some object formerly dear to them; it will give almost anyone a start to come, unexpectedly, upon a picture or almost any tangible token of someone once dear, no matter what may have happened to take away that quality; lovers, by preserving evidence, like withered flowers, pictures, songs and poems, often lay up for themselves future agony of spirit ... the objects that are so dear to them may turn about and rend their inmost souls; full many times, it were better had the love-tokens been destroyed in some such way as old Mage did away with the visible memories attached to the objects which her eager hands closed upon; this secret employment, necessarily long drawn out, as she did not wish to be discovered in her labor of love, took up a good deal of the extra time she found herself in possession of on account of the presence of Estrella in the home, for the girl took up many household duties, gladly and naturally, knowing that in work she could, to some extent, forget her own sorrow, and wishing to lighten the labors of old Mage who was always kind to her.

After the information imparted to Ruth by Father Felix, regarding national affairs, she was very thoughtful and very busy, for there were very many ways in which she could make preparations to begin the duties which she expected to take up as soon as occasion would require them of her; she studied into trained nursing and found a sort of school in Havana to which she took Estrella and where they both learned many essential things pertaining to the calling which they were both trying to fit themselves for; in many ways they were both better prepared for the work of caring for the sick and wounded than many women would ever become, no matter how much they would be trained, for they were both earnest and helpful, tender-hearted and serious; in all wars, there are women who seek the familiar association with men which the calling of a nurse entails, with no better object than just the proximity to masculine humanity involved, but there are, also, such women as Ruth Wakefield who had no thought in the matter except to help where help of her should anywhere be needed ... to succor those who were not to blame for the accidents that had befallen them ... who were, indeed, entitled to the tenderest consideration on account of the very accidents which had laid them on the clean, white cots that are stretched along the wards and in the private rooms of the great, shadowy hospitals where tender women bend above the beds of pain and minister to those who lie there, suffering and weak, both in body and spirit.

On one of these numerous visits to Havana, Ruth met a man who was an old friend of her father's who was much interested in her lonely life and who came out to her home to consult with her regarding the prospects of her being surrounded by the din and pomp of actual warfare; at first, as he viewed the situation she was placed in, he felt as Father Felix had as to her staying in Cuba, in her immediate future, but listened to her patriotic resolve with high enthusiasm, as he was intensely patriotic himself and loved to think that she was every inch an American although her life had, almost all of it, been spent away from her native land.

Just as this man was leaving her home, one day, for he had been making frequent visits there, he turned to look at her as she stood between the pillar-like gate-posts at the entrance to the drive that led to her residence; the picture she made, standing there in the glow of the setting sun, lingered in his memory long after he had ceased to see her as he saw her, then; Ruth was very fond of flowers and often wore a rose tucked in among the coils of her beautiful, shining hair; that evening, her selection among her flowers for this use had been a bunch of English violets; the deep blue of the dainty blossoms accentuated the clear gray color of her star-like eyes ... her healthy skin reflected the sunset after-glow which was beginning to appear in the western sky; her small mouth, with its cute corners, puckered up as if, she used to say when a child, it had been too large to begin with and had been shirred at the corners to make it the desired size, registered each change of her inner feelings; her dress was elegant, yet simple, and her poise was splendid; there are few earthly women who have sufficient poise of manner and of nervous strength; most of them become excited and distraught under slight stress of circumstances, but Ruth Wakefield was an exception to this very general rule; there were very few things that could shake her from her serenity of purpose and intention; one of these things was being a witness to any injustice ... an indignity put upon a weaker creature by a stronger one, whether the creature be gifted with the power to express its feelings in human speech or not; those who knew her best, were well aware of her strong regard for the rights of so-called "dumb animals" ... her loving sympathy went out to every old or poorly cared for horse she saw; she had been heard to say that she would dearly love to have a good pasture, with waving grasses and running water and sheltering trees where she could gather together all the illy-used horses in the world and then just watch them enjoy their surroundings; the smaller creatures, also, were her friends ... little Tid-i-wats, to whom we have already been introduced, was a feline of very uncertain temper and most impulsive and nerve-racking little habits, yet to Ruth she could always go and be sure of a loving reception no matter to what lengths she had gone, for Tid-i-wats was far from being a perfect little cat; she very often reverted to her original type and did things that no cat with a civilized ancestry would have even thought could be done; but she knew that Ruth would only say:

"She is not feeling very well, today; she is beginning to show her years a little; I noticed a white hair only today, on her little neck; she is my own old baby-cat, anyway, and I will always take as good care of her as I possibly can."

She would watch Ruth, calmly, while she straightened out whatever she, her own self, had made it necessary to straighten, and, then, when the young woman would, finally, sit down, no matter where Tid-i-wats happened to be located at the time, she would very soon land on Ruth's lap with no fear of a scolding even; she took advantage of the gentle disposition of her care-taker, same as so many humans did.

Ruth's father's friend looked long and earnestly at the tall, straight, slender figure standing there at the entrance to her almost palatial home and the picture remained in his memory during the balance of his earthly life.

While Ruth Wakefield and Estrella were preparing themselves to assist their fellow-countrymen in case they should be needed, events were shaping themselves so that it seemed likely that Cuba would be the stage for the setting of as heroic a play as the world had ever witnessed: Commodore Dewey had bottled up the Spanish fleet in Manila Bay and Naval-Constructor Richmond P. Hobson had executed his daring and unheard-of feat although the gallant Merrimac was sunk in Santiago harbor.

Soon after the formal declaration of war on April 25, 1898, President McKinley sent forth a call for volunteers to enter the United States army and navy. Instantly, almost, the ranks were more than filled with active, alert, capable men, anxious, each one of them, to do his full share of the work that lay before his beloved land.

It was while active preparations for a war carried on in the interests of humanity were progressing rapidly that Theodore Roosevelt became prominent as representing the highest type of American manhood; he threw himself, bodily, into the breach in the interests of his country; there was no personal sacrifice which he was unwilling to make ... no task too hard for him to attempt. He became, at once, an acknowledged and adored leader of the young Americans who crowded around him, loving him like a brother, and, at the same time, revering his quick judgment and his dauntless courage.

There is no figure in American history more heroic or more admired than that of Theodore Roosevelt, mounted on a noble horse, in the uniform of a United States Volunteer and wearing a wide campaign hat.

Ruth Wakefield was kept well informed as to what was being done by her own people, mainly through the kindness of Father Felix who seldom missed an evening's visit with her and her almost constant companion, Estrella; the two girls, for they were no more than that in spite of what they had passed through, had become the best of understanding friends; the younger girl seldom spoke of her dead lover and Ruth found that the memory of her husband had been forced into the background of her thoughts by the march of passing events.

One evening, Father Felix climbed the narrow pathway to the mansion on the hill and found Ruth alone as Estrella, who was her almost constant companion, now, had gone to the village on one of her infrequent visits to her little friend, Tessa.

The good Priest was glad to find Ruth alone as he had news of great importance for her ... news that would lead to great developments in the near future; after being assured of their entire privacy, he said:

"We will have work to do, my dear Daughter, before many more months have passed by. The American people have endured the sight of the injustice and oppression exercised by the Spanish authorities toward the helpless Cubans for a long time, now, and are becoming more and more determined to break the Spanish rule. You and I must be prepared to assist and succor our own dear boys when they begin to smite the enemy of right and justice, hip and thigh. My course in this work has been made plain before me.... I have applied for the position of Chaplain in the United States service and I trust that they will allow me to accompany my little flock right into the midst of every battle in which they will be engaged. It seems to me that your path in this matter, my Daughter, is, also, plain ... you can turn this charming home into a hospital to which the sorely wounded or those who have fallen ill from any cause may be brought and where they may receive the tender care which they will deserve from every loyal heart and hand. I am certain that you will find work for Estrella as well as for every member of your family, here, in this connection, also you will be ably assisted by many who will flock to your standard when they understand what you are doing. I, myself, will always assist you in every way in my power and I may be able to spare you some uncertainty and, possibly, also, some unpleasantness. My Daughter," he ended, "there will be work for us to do that will require all our strength and courage.... May God, in His great Wisdom, guide and help us."

Ruth clasped her hands and bowed her head as Father Felix prayed for God's blessing on whatever enterprise they should be called upon to undertake in the great cause in which they were both enlisted.

After the good Priest had disappeared down the narrow path that led to the little village of San Domingo, she sat, for a long time, in deep revery, reflecting on the peace and prosperity that then covered the tropical Island upon which she had lived for so many years and trying to imagine what changes were likely to come in the wake of the probable conflict of two great nations, for Ruth realized that America was meeting a foe worthy of her steel in Spain whose far-famed Armada had been made the subject of song and story; she had no doubt of the final outcome ... whatever America attempted, that she would accomplish ... but how many splendid American men would have to lie upon the bloody battle-fields that would spring up all around her was yet an unsolved problem; and that, she thought, proudly and devotedly, would be her work ... to find those splendid American heroes, and to do for them as much as if each one of them had been her own blood brother ... to succor the wounded and bury the dead.

This line of thought led her, inevitably, to the grave already lying under the moonlight so near to her home, and, upon a sudden and almost irresistable impulse, she snatched a wrap from the rack in the hall and started down toward the little cemetery, thinking to bid an eternal farewell to the grave of the man who had been, if only for a few short months, her husband.