Ramona

  XII

  THE little sheepfold, or corral, was beyond the artichoke-patch, on thatsouthern slope whose sunshine had proved so disastrous a temptation toMargarita in the matter of drying the altar-cloth. It was almost like aterrace, this long slope; and the sheepfold, being near the bottom,was wholly out of sight of the house. This was the reason Felipe hadselected it as the safest spot for his talk with Alessandro.

  When Ramona reached the end of the trellised walk in the garden, shehalted and looked to the right and left. No one was in sight. As sheentered the Senora's room an hour before, she had caught a glimpse ofsome one, she felt almost positive it was Felipe, turning off in thepath to the left, leading down to the sheepfold. She stood irresolutefor a moment, gazing earnestly down this path. "If the saints would onlytell me where he is!" she said aloud. She trembled as she stood there,fearing each second to hear the Senora's voice calling her. But fortunewas favoring Ramona, for once; even as the words passed her lips, shesaw Felipe coming slowly up the bank. She flew to meet him. "Oh, Felipe,Felipe!" she began.

  "Yes, dear, I know it all," interrupted Felipe; "Alessandro has toldme."

  "She forbade me to speak to you, Felipe," said Ramona, "but I could notbear it. What are we to do? Where is Alessandro?"

  "My mother forbade you to speak to me!" cried Felipe, in a tone ofterror. "Oh, Ramona, why did you disobey her? If she sees us talking,she will be even more displeased. Fly back to your room. Leave it all tome. I will do all that I can."

  "But, Felipe," began Ramona, wringing her hands in distress.

  "I know! I know!" said Felipe; "but you must not make my mother any moreangry. I don't know what she will do till I talk with her. Do go back toyour room! Did she not tell you to stay there?"

  "Yes," sobbed Ramona, "but I cannot. Oh, Felipe, I am so afraid! Do helpus! Do you think you can? You won't let her shut me up in the convent,will you, Felipe? Where is Alessandro? Why can't I go away with him thisminute? Where is he? Dear Felipe, let me go now."

  Felipe's face was horror-stricken. "Shut you in the convent!" he gasped."Did she say that? Ramona, dear, fly back to your room. Let me talkto her. Fly, I implore you. I can't do anything for you if she sees metalking with you now;" and he turned away, and walked swiftly down theterrace.

  Ramona felt as if she were indeed alone in the world. How could shego back into that house! Slowly she walked up the garden-path again,meditating a hundred wild plans of escape. Where, where was Alessandro?Why did he not appear for her rescue? Her heart failed her; and whenshe entered her room, she sank on the floor in a paroxysm of hopelessweeping. If she had known that Alessandro was already a good half-hour'sjourney on his way to Temecula, galloping farther and farther away fromher each moment, she would have despaired indeed.

  This was what Felipe, after hearing the whole story, had counselled himto do. Alessandro had given him so vivid a description of the Senora'sface and tone, when she had ordered him out of her sight, that Felipewas alarmed. He had never seen his mother angry like that. He could notconceive why her wrath should have been so severe. The longer he talkedwith Alessandro, the more he felt that it would be wiser for him to beout of sight till the first force of her anger had been spent. "I willsay that I sent you," said Felipe, "so she cannot feel that you havecommitted any offence in going. Come back in four days, and by that timeit will be all settled what you shall do."

  It went hard with Alessandro to go without seeing Ramona; but it did notneed Felipe's exclamation of surprise, to convince him that it would befoolhardy to attempt it. His own judgment had told him that it would beout of the question.

  "But you will tell her all, Senor Felipe? You will tell her that it isfor her sake I go?" the poor fellow said piteously, gazing into Felipe'seyes as if he would read his inmost soul.

  "I will, indeed, Alessandro; I will," replied Felipe; and he held hishand out to Alessandro, as to a friend and equal. "You may trust me todo all I can do for Ramona and for you."

  "God bless you, Senor Felipe," answered Alessandro, gravely, a slighttrembling of his voice alone showing how deeply he was moved.

  "He's a noble fellow," said Felipe to himself, as he watched Alessandroleap on his horse, which had been tethered near the corral allnight,--"a noble fellow! There isn't a man among all my friends whowould have been manlier or franker than he has been in this wholebusiness. I don't in the least wonder that Ramona loves him. He's anoble fellow! But what is to be done! What is to be done!"

  Felipe was sorely perplexed. No sharp crisis of disagreement had everarisen between him and his mother, but he felt that one was comingnow. He was unaware of the extent of his influence over her. He doubtedwhether he could move her very far. The threat of shutting Ramona up inthe convent terrified him more than he liked to admit to himself. Hadshe power to do that? Felipe did not know. She must believe that shehad, or she would not have made the threat. Felipe's whole soul revoltedat the cruel injustice of the idea.

  "As if it were a sin for the poor girl to love Alessandro!" he said."I'd help her to run away with him, if worse comes to worst. What canmake my mother feel so!" And Felipe paced back and forth till the sunwas high, and the sharp glare and heat reminded him that he must seekshelter; then he threw himself down under the willows. He dreaded togo into the house. His instinctive shrinking from the disagreeable, hisdisposition to put off till another time, held him back, hour by hour.The longer he thought the situation over, the less he knew how to broachthe subject to his mother; the more uncertain he felt whether it wouldbe wise for him to broach it at all. Suddenly he heard his name called.It was Margarita, who had been sent to call him to dinner. "Goodheavens! dinner already!" he cried, springing to his feet.

  "Yes, Senor," replied Margarita, eyeing him observantly. She had seenhim talking with Alessandro, had seen Alessandro galloping away downthe river road. She had also gathered much from the Senora's look,and Ramona's, as they passed the dining-room door together soon afterbreakfast. Margarita could have given a tolerably connected account ofall that had happened within the last twenty-four hours to the chiefactors in this tragedy which had so suddenly begun in the Morenohousehold. Not supposed to know anything, she yet knew nearly all; andher every pulse was beating high with excited conjecture and wonder asto what would come next.

  Dinner was a silent and constrained meal,--Ramona absent, the fiction ofher illness still kept up; Felipe embarrassed, and unlike himself; theSenora silent, full of angry perplexity. At her first glance in Felipe'sface, she thought to herself, "Ramona has spoken to him. When and howdid she do it?" For it had been only a few moments after Ramona had lefther presence, that she herself had followed, and, seeing the girl in herown room, had locked the door as before, and had spent the rest of themorning on the veranda within hands' reach of Ramona's window. How,when, and where had she contrived to communicate with Felipe? The longerthe Senora studied over this, the angrier and more baffled she felt; tobe outwitted was even worse to her than to be disobeyed. Under her veryeyes, as it were, something evidently had happened, not only againsther will, but which she could not explain. Her anger even rippled outtowards Felipe, and was fed by the recollection of Ramona's unwiseretort, "Felipe would not let you!" What had Felipe done or said to makethe girl so sure that he would be on her side and Alessandro's? Was itcome to this, that she, the Senora Moreno, was to be defied in her ownhouse by children and servants!

  It was with a tone of severe displeasure that she said to Felipe, asshe rose from the dinner-table, "My son, I would like to have someconversation with you in my room, if you are at leisure."

  "Certainly, mother," said Felipe, a load rolling off his mind at herhaving thus taken the initiative, for which he lacked courage; andwalking swiftly towards her, he attempted to put his arm around herwaist, as it was his affectionate habit frequently to do. She repulsedhim gently, but bethinking herself, passed her hand through his arm,and leaning on it heavily as she walked, said: "This is the most fittingway, my son. I must lean more and more heavily on you e
ach year now. Ageis telling on me fast. Do you not find me greatly changed, Felipe, inthe last year?"

  "No, madre mia," replied Felipe, "indeed I do not. I see not that youhave changed in the last ten years." And he was honest in this. Hiseyes did not note the changes so clear to others, and for the best ofreasons. The face he saw was one no one else ever beheld; it was kindledby emotion, transfigured by love, whenever it was turned towards him.

  The Senora sighed deeply as she answered: "That must be because you solove me, Felipe. I myself see the changes even day by day. Troublestell on me as they did not when I was younger. Even within the lasttwenty-four hours I seem to myself to have aged frightfully;" and shelooked keenly at Felipe as she seated herself in the arm-chair wherepoor Ramona had swooned a few hours before. Felipe remained standingbefore her, gazing, with a tender expression, upon her features, butsaying nothing.

  "I see that Ramona has told you all!" she continued, her voice hardeningas she spoke. What a fortunate wording of her sentence!

  "No, mother; it was not Ramona, it was Alessandro, who told me thismorning, early," Felipe answered hastily, hurrying on, to draw theconversation as far away from Ramona as possible. "He came and spoke tome last night after I was in bed; but I told him to wait till morning,and then I would hear all he had to say."

  "Ah!" said the Senora, relieved. Then, as Felipe remained silent, sheasked, "And what did he say?"

  "He told me all that had happened."

  "All!" said the Senora, sneeringly. "Do you suppose that he told youall?"

  "He said that you had bidden him begone out of your sight," said Felipe,"and that he supposed he must go. So I told him to go at once. I thoughtyou would prefer not to see him again."

  "Ah!" said the Senora again, startled, gratified that Felipe had sopromptly seconded her action, but sorry that Alessandro had gone. "Ah, Idid not know whether you would think it best to discharge him at onceor not; I told him he must answer to you. I did not know but you mightdevise some measures by which he could be retained on the estate."

  Felipe stared. Could he believe his ears? This did not sound like therelentless displeasure he had expected. Could Ramona have been dreaming?In his astonishment, he did not weigh his mother's words carefully; hedid not carry his conjecture far enough; he did not stop to make surethat retaining Alessandro on the estate might not of necessity bode anygood to Ramona; but with his usual impetuous ardor, sanguine, at thefirst glimpse of hope, that all was well, he exclaimed joyfully, "Ah,dear mother, if that could only be done, all would be well;" and, nevernoting the expression of his mother's face, nor pausing to take breath,he poured out all he thought and felt on the subject.

  "That is just what I have been hoping for ever since I saw that he andRamona were growing so fond of each other. He is a splendid fellow, andthe best hand we have ever had on the place. All the men like him; hewould make a capital overseer; and if we put him in charge of the wholeestate, there would not be any objection to his marrying Ramona. Thatwould give them a good living here with us."

  "Enough!" cried the Senora, in a voice which fell on Felipe's earslike a voice from some other world,--so hollow, so strange. He stoppedspeaking, and uttered an ejaculation of amazement. At the first wordshe had uttered, the Senora had fixed her eyes on the floor,--a habit ofhers when she wished to listen with close attention. Lifting her eyesnow, fixing them full on Felipe, she regarded him with a look which notall his filial reverence could bear without resentment. It was nearly asscornful as that with which she had regarded Ramona. Felipe colored.

  "Why do you look at me like that, mother?" he exclaimed. "What have Idone?"

  The Senora waved her hand imperiously. "Enough!" she reiterated. "Do notsay any more. I wish to think for a few moments;" and she fixed her eyeson the floor again.

  Felipe studied her countenance. A more nearly rebellious feeling thanhe had supposed himself capable of slowly arose in his heart. Now he forthe first time perceived what terror his mother must inspire in a girllike Ramona.

  "Poor little one!" he thought. "If my mother looked at her as she did atme just now, I wonder she did not die."

  A great storm was going on in the Senora's bosom. Wrath against Ramonawas uppermost in it. In addition to all else, the girl had now been thecause, or at least the occasion, of Felipe's having, for the first timein his whole life, angered her beyond her control.

  "As if I had not suffered enough by reason of that creature," shethought bitterly to herself, "without her coming between me and Felipe!"

  But nothing could long come between the Senora and Felipe. Like a freshlava-stream flowing down close on the track of its predecessor, came therush of the mother's passionate love for her son close on the passionateanger at his words.

  When she lifted her eyes they were full of tears, which it smote Felipeto see. As she gazed at him, they rolled down her cheeks, and she saidin trembling tones: "Forgive me, my child; I had not thought anythingcould make me thus angry with you. That shameless creature is costing ustoo dear. She must leave the house."

  Felipe's heart gave a bound; Ramona had not been mistaken, then. Abitter shame seized him at his mother's cruelty. But her tears made himtender; and it was in a gentle, even pleading voice that he replied:"I do not see, mother, why you call Ramona shameless. There is nothingwrong in her loving Alessandro."

  "I found her in his arms!" exclaimed the Senora.

  "I know," said Felipe; "Alessandro told me that he had just at thatinstant told her he loved her, and she had said she loved him, and wouldmarry him, just as you came up."

  "Humph!" retorted the Senora; "do you think that Indian would have daredto speak a word of love to the Senorita Ramona Ortegna, if she had notconducted herself shamelessly? I wonder that he concerned himself tospeak about marriage to her at all."

  "Oh, mother! mother!" was all that Felipe could say to this. He wasaghast. He saw now, in a flash, the whole picture as it lay in hismother's mind, and his heart sank within him. "Mother!" he repeated, ina tone which spoke volumes.

  "Ay," she continued, "that is what I say. I see no reason why hehesitated to take her, as he would take any Indian squaw, with smallceremony of marrying."

  "Alessandro would not take any woman that way any quicker than I would,mother," said Felipe courageously; "you do him injustice." He longedto add, "And Ramona too," but he feared to make bad matters worse bypleading for her at present.

  "No, I do not," said the Senora; "I do Alessandro full justice. Ithink very few men would have behaved as well as he has under the sametemptation. I do not hold him in the least responsible for all that hashappened. It is all Ramona's fault."

  Felipe's patience gave way. He had not known, till now, how very closelythis pure and gentle girl, whom he had loved as a sister in his boyhood,and had come near loving as a lover in his manhood, had twined herselfaround his heart. He could not remain silent another moment, and hearher thus wickedly accused.

  "Mother!" he exclaimed, in a tone which made the Senora look up at himin sudden astonishment. "Mother, I cannot help it if I make you veryangry; I must speak; I can't bear to hear you say such things of Ramona.I have seen for a long time that Alessandro loved the very ground underher feet; and Ramona would not have been a woman if she had not seen ittoo! She has seen it, and has felt it, and has come to love him with allher soul, just as I hope some woman will love me one of these days. If Iam ever loved as well as she loves Alessandro, I shall be lucky. I thinkthey ought to be married; and I think we ought to take Alessandro on tothe estate, so that they can live here. I don't see anything disgracefulin it, nor anything wrong, nor anything but what was perfectly natural.You know, mother, it isn't as if Ramona really belonged to our family;you know she is half Indian." A scornful ejaculation from his motherinterrupted him here; but Felipe hurried on, partly because he was borneout of himself at last by impetuous feeling, partly that he dreaded tostop, because if he did, his mother would speak; and already he felta terror of what her next words might be. "I have often t
hought aboutRamona's future, mother. You know a great many men would not want tomarry her, just because she is half Indian. You, yourself, would neverhave given your consent to my marrying her, if I had wanted to." Againan exclamation from the Senora, this time more of horror than of scorn.But Felipe pressed on. "No, of course you would not, I always knew that;except for that, I might have loved her myself, for a sweeter girlnever drew breath in this God's earth." Felipe was reckless now; havingentered on this war, he would wage it with every weapon that lay withinhis reach; if one did not tell, another might. "You have never lovedher. I don't know that you have ever even liked her; I don't think youhave. I know, as a little boy, I always used to see how much kinder youwere to me than to her, and I never could understand it. And you areunjust to her now. I've been watching her all summer; I've seen her andAlessandro together continually. You know yourself, mother, he has beenwith us on the veranda, day after day, just as if he were one of thefamily. I've watched them by the hour, when I lay there so sick; Ithought you must have seen it too. I don't believe Alessandro has everlooked or said or done a thing I wouldn't have done in his place; and Idon't believe Ramona has ever looked, said, or done a thing I would notbe willing to have my own sister do!" Here Felipe paused. He had madehis charge; like a young impetuous general, massing all his forces atthe onset; he had no reserves. It is not the way to take Gibraltars.

  When he paused, literally breathless, he had spoken so fast,--and evenyet Felipe was not quite strong, so sadly had the fever undermined hisconstitution,--the Senora looked at him interrogatively, and said ina now composed tone: "You do not believe that Ramona has done anythingthat you would not be willing to have your own sister do? Would you bewilling that your own sister should marry Alessandro?"

  Clever Senora Moreno! During the few moments that Felipe had beenspeaking, she had perceived certain things which it would be beyond herpower to do; certain others that it would be impolitic to try to do.Nothing could possibly compensate her for antagonizing Felipe. Nothingcould so deeply wound her, as to have him in a resentful mood towardsher; or so weaken her real control of him, as to have him feel that shearbitrarily overruled his preference or his purpose. In presence of herimperious will, even her wrath capitulated and surrendered. There wouldbe no hot words between her and her son. He should believe that hedetermined the policy of the Moreno house, even in this desperatecrisis.

  Felipe did not answer. A better thrust was never seen on any field thanthe Senora's question. She repeated it, still more deliberately, in herwonted gentle voice. The Senora was herself again, as she had not beenfor a moment since she came upon Alessandro and Ramona at the brook.How just and reasonable the question sounded, as she repeated it slowly,with an expression in her eyes, of poising and weighing matters. "Wouldyou be willing that your own sister should marry Alessandro?"

  Felipe was embarrassed. He saw whither he was being led. He could givebut one answer to this question. "No, mother," he said, "I should not;but--"

  "Never mind buts," interrupted his mother; "we have not got to thoseyet;" and she smiled on Felipe,--an affectionate smile, but it somehowgave him a feeling of dread. "Of course I knew you could make but oneanswer to my question. If you had a sister, you would rather see herdead than married to any one of these Indians."

  Felipe opened his lips eagerly, to speak. "Not so," he said.

  "Wait, dear!" exclaimed his mother. "One thing at a time, I see how fullyour loving heart is, and I was never prouder of you as my son than whenlistening just now to your eloquent defence of Ramona, Perhaps youmay be right and I wrong as to her character and conduct. We will notdiscuss those points." It was here that the Senora had perceived somethings that it would be out of her power to do. "We will not discussthose, because they do not touch the real point at issue. What it isour duty to do by Ramona, in such a matter as this, does not turn onher worthiness or unworthiness. The question is, Is it right for youto allow her to do what you would not allow your own sister to do?" TheSenora paused for a second, noted with secret satisfaction how puzzledand unhappy Felipe looked; then, in a still gentler voice, she went on,"You surely would not think that right, my son, would you?" And now theSenora waited for an answer.

  "No, mother," came reluctantly from Felipe's lips. "I suppose not;but--"

  "I was sure my own son could make no other reply," interrupted theSenora. She did not wish Felipe at present to do more than reply toher questions. "Of course it would not be right for us to let Ramonado anything which we would not let her do if she were really of our ownblood. That is the way I have always looked at my obligation to her. Mysister intended to rear her as her own daughter. She had given her herown name. When my sister died, she transferred to me all her right andresponsibility in and for the child. You do not suppose that if youraunt had lived, she would have ever given her consent to her adopteddaughter's marrying an Indian, do you?"

  Again the Senora paused for a reply, and again the reluctant Felipesaid, in a low tone, "No, I suppose she would not."

  "Very well. Then that lays a double obligation on us. It is not onlythat we are not to permit Ramona to do a thing which we would considerdisgraceful to one of our own blood; we are not to betray the trustreposed in us by the only person who had a right to control her, and whotransferred that trust to us. Is not that so?"

  "Yes, mother," said the unhappy Felipe.

  He saw the meshes closing around him. He felt that there was a flawsomewhere in his mother's reasoning, but he could not point it out;in fact, he could hardly make it distinct to himself. His brain wasconfused. Only one thing he saw clearly, and that was, that after allhad been said and done, Ramona would still marry Alessandro. But it wasevident that it would never be with his mother's consent. "Nor with mineeither, openly, the way she puts it. I don't see how it can be; and yetI have promised Alessandro to do all I could for him. Curse the luck,I wish he had never set foot on the place!" said Felipe in his heart,growing unreasonable, and tired with the perplexity.

  The Senora continued: "I shall always blame myself bitterly for havingfailed to see what was going on. As you say, Alessandro has been withus a great deal since your illness, with his music, and singing, and onething and another; but I can truly say that I never thought of Ramona'sbeing in danger of looking upon him in the light of a possible lover,any more than of her looking thus upon Juan Canito, or Luigo, or anyother of the herdsmen or laborers. I regret it more than words canexpress, and I do not know what we can do, now that it has happened."

  "That's it, mother! That's it!" broke in Felipe. "You see, you see it istoo late now."

  The Senora went on as if Felipe had not spoken. "I suppose you wouldreally very much regret to part with Alessandro, and your word is in away pledged to him, as you had asked him if he would stay on the place,Of course, now that all this has happened, it would be very unpleasantfor Ramona to stay here, and see him continually--at least for a time,until she gets over this strange passion she seems to have conceivedfor him. It will not last. Such sudden passions never do." The Senoraartfully interpolated, "What should you think, Felipe, of having her goback to the Sisters' school for a time? She was very happy there."

  The Senora had strained a point too far. Felipe's self-control suddenlygave way, and as impetuously as he had spoken in the beginning, he spokeagain now, nerved by the memory of Ramona's face and tone as she hadcried to him in the garden, "Oh, Felipe, you won't let her shut me upin the convent, will you?" "Mother!" he cried, "you would never do that.You would not shut the poor girl up in the convent!"

  The Senora raised her eyebrows in astonishment. "Who spoke of shuttingup?" she said. "Ramona has already been there at school. She might goagain. She is not too old to learn. A change of scene and occupation isthe best possible cure for a girl who has a thing of this sort to getover. Can you propose anything better, my son? What would you advise?"And a third time the Senora paused for an answer.

  These pauses and direct questions of the Senora's were like nothingin life so much as like
that stage in a spider's processes when,withdrawing a little way from a half-entangled victim, which stillsupposes himself free, it rests from its weaving, and watches the victimflutter. Subtle questions like these, assuming, taking for granted assettled, much which had never been settled at all, were among the bestweapons in the Senora's armory. They rarely failed her.

  "Advise!" cried Felipe, excitedly. "Advise! This is what I advise--tolet Ramona and Alessandro marry. I can't help all you say about ourobligations. I dare say you're right; and it's a cursedly awkwardcomplication for us, anyhow, the way you put it."

  "Yes, awkward for you, as the head of our house," interrupted theSenora, sighing. "I don't quite see how you would face it."

  "Well, I don't propose to face it," continued Felipe, testily. "I don'tpropose to have anything to do with it, from first to last. Let her goaway with him, if she wants to.'

  "Without our consent?" said the Senora, gently.

  "Yes, without it, if she can't go with it; and I don't see, as you havestated it, how we could exactly take any responsibility about marryingher to Alessandro. But for heaven's sake, mother, let her go! She willgo, any way. You haven't the least idea how she loves Alessandro, or howhe loves her. Let her go!"

  "Do you really think she would run away with him, if it came to that?"asked the Senora, earnestly. "Run away and marry him, spite of ourrefusing to consent to the marriage?"

  "I do," said Felipe.

  "Then it is your opinion, is it, that the only thing left for us to do,is to wash our hands of it altogether, and leave her free to do what shepleases?"

  "That's just what I do think, mother," replied Felipe, his heart growinglighter at her words. "That's just what I do think. We can't preventit, and it is of no use to try. Do let us tell them they can do as theylike."

  "Of course, Alessandro must leave us, then," said the Senora. "Theycould not stay here."

  "I don't see why!" said Felipe, anxiously.

  "You will, my son, if you think a moment. Could we possibly give astronger indorsement to their marriage than by keeping them here? Don'tyou see that would be so?"

  Felipe's eyes fell. "Then I suppose they couldn't be married here,either," he said.

  "What more could we do than that, for a marriage that we heartilyapproved of, my son?"

  "True, mother;" and Felipe clapped his hand to his forehead. "But thenwe force them to run away!"

  "Oh, no." said the Senora, icily. "If they go, they will go of theirown accord. We hope they will never do anything so foolish and wrong. Ifthey do, I suppose we shall always be held in a measure responsible fornot having prevented it. But if you think it is not wise, or of no useto attempt that, I do not see what there is to be done."

  Felipe did not speak. He felt discomfited; felt as if he had betrayedhis friend Alessandro, his sister Ramona; as if a strange complication,network of circumstances, had forced him into a false position he didnot see what more he could ask, what more could be asked, of his mother;he did not see, either, that much less could have been granted toAlessandro and Ramona; he was angry, wearied, perplexed.

  The Senora studied his face. "You do not seem satisfied, Felipe dear,"she said tenderly. "As, indeed, how could you be in this unfortunatestate of affairs? But can you think of anything different for us to do?"

  "No," said Felipe, bitterly. "I can't, that's the worst of it. It isjust turning Ramona out of the house, that's all."

  "Felipe! Felipe!" exclaimed the Senora, "how unjust you are to yourself!You know you would never do that! You know that she has always had ahome here as if she were a daughter; and always will have, as long asshe wishes it. If she chooses to turn her back on it, and go away, isit our fault? Do not let your pity for this misguided girl blind you towhat is just to yourself and to me. Turn Ramona out of the house! Youknow I promised my sister to bring her up as my own child; and I havealways felt that my son would receive the trust from me, when I died.Ramona has a home under the Moreno roof so long as she will accept it.It is not just, Felipe, to say that we turn her out;" and tears stood inthe Senora's eyes.

  "Forgive me, dear mother," cried the unhappy Felipe. "Forgive me foradding one burden to all you have to bear. Truth is, this miserablebusiness has so distraught my senses, I can't seem to see anything as itis. Dear mother, it is very hard for you. I wish it were done with."

  "Thanks for your precious sympathy, my Felipe," replied the Senora. "Ifit were not for you, I should long ago have broken down beneath my caresand burdens. But among them all, have been few so grievous as this. Ifeel myself and our home dishonored. But we must submit. As you say,Felipe, I wish it were done with. It would be as well, perhaps, to sendfor Ramona at once, and tell her what we have decided. She is no doubtin great anxiety; we will see her here."

  Felipe would have greatly preferred to see Ramona alone; but as he knewnot how to bring this about he assented to his mother's suggestion.

  Opening her door, the Senora walked slowly down the passage-way,unlocked Ramona's door, and said: "Ramona, be so good as to come to myroom. Felipe and I have something to say to you."

  Ramona followed, heavy-hearted. The words, "Felipe and I," boded nogood.

  "The Senora has made Felipe think just as she does herself," thoughtRamona. "Oh, what will become of me!" and she stole a reproachful,imploring look at Felipe. He smiled back in a way which reassured her;but the reassurance did not last long.

  "Senorita Ramona Ortegna," began the Senora. Felipe shivered. He had hadno conception that his mother could speak in that way. The words seemedto open a gulf between Ramona and all the rest of the world, so coldand distant they sounded,--as the Senora might speak to an intrudingstranger.

  "Senorita Ramona Ortegna," she said, "my son and I have been discussingwhat it is best for us to do in the mortifying and humiliating positionin which you place us by your relation with the Indian Alessandro. Ofcourse you know--or you ought to know--that it is utterly impossiblefor us to give our consent to your making such a marriage; we should befalse to a trust, and dishonor our own family name, if we did that."

  Ramona's eyes dilated, her cheeks paled; she opened her lips, but nosound came from them; she looked toward Felipe, and seeing him withdowncast eyes, and an expression of angry embarrassment on his face,despair seized her. Felipe had deserted their cause. Oh, where, wherewas Alessandro! Clasping her hands, she uttered a low cry,--a cry thatcut Felipe to the heart. He was finding out, in thus being witness ofRamona's suffering, that she was far nearer and dearer to him than hehad realized. It would have taken very little, at such moments as these,to have made Felipe her lover again; he felt now like springing to herside, folding his arms around her, and bidding his mother defiance. Ittook all the self-control he could gather, to remain silent, and trustto Ramona's understanding him later.

  Ramona's cry made no break in the smooth, icy flow of the Senora'ssentences. She gave no sign of having heard it, but continued: "My sontells me that he thinks our forbidding it would make no difference; thatyou would go away with the man all the same. I suppose he is right inthinking so, as you yourself told me that even if Father Salvierderraforbade it, you would disobey him. Of course, if this is yourdetermination, we are powerless. Even if I were to put you in thekeeping of the Church, which is what I am sure my sister, who adoptedyou as her child, would do, if she were alive, you would devise somemeans of escape, and thus bring a still greater and more public scandalon the family. Felipe thinks that it is not worth while to attempt tobring you to reason in that way; and we shall therefore do nothing. Iwish to impress it upon you that my son, as head of this house, and I,as my sister's representative, consider you a member of our own family.So long as we have a home for ourselves, that home is yours, as italways has been. If you choose to leave it, and to disgrace yourself andus by marrying an Indian, we cannot help ourselves."

  The Senora paused. Ramona did not speak. Her eyes were fixed on theSenora's face, as if she would penetrate to her inmost soul; the girlwas beginning to recognize the Senora's
true nature; her instincts andher perceptions were sharpened by love.

  "Have you anything to say to me or to my son?" asked the Senora.

  "No, Senora," replied Ramona; "I do not think of anything more to saythan I said this morning. Yes," she added, "there is. Perhaps I shallnot speak with you again before I go away. I thank you once more forthe home you have given me for so many years. And you too, Felipe," shecontinued, turning towards Felipe, her face changing, all her pent-upaffection and sorrow looking out of her tearful eyes,--"you too, dearFelipe. You have always been so good to me. I shall always love you aslong as I live;" and she held out both her hands to him. Felipe tookthem in his, and was about to speak, when the Senora interruptedhim. She did not intend to have any more of this sort of affectionatefamiliarity between her son and Ramona.

  "Are we to understand that you are taking your leave now?" she said. "Isit your purpose to go at once?"

  "I do not know, Senora," stammered Ramona; "I have not seen Alessandro;I have not heard--" And she looked up in distress at Felipe, whoanswered compassionately,--

  "Alessandro has gone."

  "Gone!" shrieked Ramona. "Gone! not gone, Felipe!"

  "Only for four days," replied Felipe. "To Temecula. I thought it wouldbe better for him to be away for a day or two. He is to come backimmediately. Perhaps he will be back day after to-morrow."

  "Did he want to go? What did he go for? Why didn't you let me go withhim? Oh, why, why did he go?" cried Ramona.

  "He went because my son told him to go," broke in the Senora, impatientof this scene, and of the sympathy she saw struggling in Felipe'sexpressive features. "My son thought, and rightly, that the sight of himwould be more than I could bear just now; so he ordered him to go away,and Alessandro obeyed."

  Like a wounded creature at bay, Ramona turned suddenly away from Felipe,and facing the Senora, her eyes resolute and dauntless spite of thestreaming tears, exclaimed, lifting her right hand as she spoke, "Youhave been cruel; God will punish you!" and without waiting to see whateffect her words had produced, without looking again at Felipe, shewalked swiftly out of the room.

  "You see," said the Senora, "you see she defies us."

  "She is desperate," said Felipe. "I am sorry I sent Alessandro away."

  "No, my son," replied the Senora, "you were wise, as you always are.It may bring her to her senses, to have a few days' reflection insolitude."

  "You do not mean to keep her locked up, mother, do you?" cried Felipe.

  The Senora turned a look of apparently undisguised amazement on him."You would not think that best, would you? Did you not say that all wecould do, was simply not to interfere with her in any way? To wash ourhands, so far as is possible, of all responsibility about her?"

  "Yes, yes," said the baffled Felipe; "that was what I said. But,mother--" He stopped. He did not know what he wanted to say.

  The Senora looked tenderly at him, her face full of anxious inquiry.

  "What is it, Felipe dear? Is there anything more you think I ought tosay or do?" she asked.

  "What is it you are going to do, mother?" said Felipe. "I don't seem tounderstand what you are going to do."

  "Nothing, Felipe! You have entirely convinced me that all effort wouldbe thrown away. I shall do nothing," replied the Senora. "Nothingwhatever."

  "Then as long as Ramona is here, everything will be just as it alwayshas been?" said Felipe.

  The Senora smiled sadly. "Dear Felipe, do you think that possible? Agirl who has announced her determination to disobey not only you andme, but Father Salvierderra, who is going to bring disgrace both on theMoreno and the Ortegna name,--we can't feel exactly the same towards heras we did before, can we?"

  Felipe made an impatient gesture. "No, of course not. But I mean, iseverything to be just the same, outwardly, as it was before?"

  "I supposed so," said the Senora. "Was not that your idea? We must tryto have it so, I think. Do not you?"

  "Yes," groaned Felipe, "if we can!"