VIII
FELIPE gained but slowly. The relapse was indeed, as Father Salvierderrahad said, worse than the original attack. Day after day he lay withlittle apparent change; no pain, but a weakness so great that it wasalmost harder to bear than sharp suffering would have been. Nearly everyday Alessandro was sent for to play or sing to him. It seemed to be theonly thing that roused him from his half lethargic state. Sometimes hewould talk with Alessandro on matters relative to the estate, and showfor a few moments something like his old animation but he was soontired, and would close his eyes, saying: "I will speak with you againabout this, Alessandro; I am going to sleep now. Sing."
The Senora, seeing Felipe's enjoyment of Alessandro's presence, sooncame to have a warm feeling towards him herself; moreover, she greatlyliked his quiet reticence. There was hardly a surer road to the Senora'sfavor, for man or woman, than to be chary of speech and reservedin demeanor. She had an instinct of kinship to all that was silent,self-contained, mysterious, in human nature. The more she observedAlessandro, the more she trusted and approved him. Luckily for Juan Can,he did not know how matters were working in his mistress's mind. If hehad, he would have been in a fever of apprehension, and would have gotat swords' points with Alessandro immediately. On the contrary, allunaware of the real situation of affairs, and never quite sure that theMexican he dreaded might not any day hear of his misfortune, and appear,asking for the place, he took every opportunity to praise Alessandro tothe Senora. She never visited his bedside that he had not something tosay in favor of the lad, as he called him.
"Truly, Senora," he said again and again, "I do marvel where the ladgot so much knowledge, at his age. He is like an old hand at the sheepbusiness. He knows more than any shepherd I have,--a deal more; and itis not only of sheep. He has had experience, too, in the handling ofcattle. Juan Jose has been beholden to him more than once, already, fora remedy of which he knew not. And such modesty, withal. I knew not thatthere were such Indians; surely there cannot be many such."
"No, I fancy not," the Senora would reply, absently. "His father is aman of intelligence, and has trained his son well."
"There is nothing he is not ready to do," continued Alessandro'seulogist. "He is as handy with tools as if he had been 'prenticed to acarpenter. He has made me a new splint for my leg, which was a relieflike salve to a wound, so much easier was it than before. He is a goodlad,--a good lad."
None of these sayings of Juan's were thrown away on the Senora. More andmore closely she watched Alessandro; and the very thing which Juanhad feared, and which he had thought to avert by having Alessandro histemporary substitute, was slowly coming to pass. The idea was workingin the Senora's mind, that she might do a worse thing than engage thisyoung, strong, active, willing man to remain permanently in her employ.The possibility of an Indian's being so born and placed that he wouldhesitate about becoming permanently a servant even to the Senora Moreno,did not occur to her. However, she would do nothing hastily. There wouldbe plenty of time before Juan Can's leg was well. She would study theyoung man more. In the mean time, she would cause Felipe to think of theidea, and propose it.
So one day she said to Felipe: "What a voice that Alessandro has,Felipe. We shall miss his music sorely when he goes, shall we not?"
"He's not going!" exclaimed Felipe, startled.
"Oh, no, no; not at present. He agreed to stay till Juan Can wasabout again; but that will be not more than six weeks now, or eight, Isuppose. You forget how time has flown while you have been lying hereill, my son."
"True, true!" said Felipe. "Is it really a month already?" and hesighed.
"Juan Can tells me that the lad has a marvellous knowledge for one ofhis years," continued the Senora. "He says he is as skilled with cattleas with sheep; knows more than any shepherd we have on the place. Heseems wonderfully quiet and well-mannered. I never saw an Indian who hadsuch behavior."
"Old Pablo is just like him," said Felipe. "It was natural enough,living so long with Father Peyri. And I've seen other Indians, too, witha good deal the same manner as Alessandro. It's born in them."
"I can't bear the idea of Alessandro's going away. But by that time youwill be well and strong," said the Senora; "you would not miss him then,would you?"
"Yes, I would, too!" said Felipe, pettishly. He was still weak enough tobe childish. "I like him about me. He's worth a dozen times as much asany man we've got. But I don't suppose money could hire him to stay onany ranch."
"Were you thinking of hiring him permanently?" asked the Senora, in asurprised tone. "I don't doubt you could do so if you wished. They areall poor, I suppose; he would not work with the shearers if he were notpoor."
"Oh, it isn't that," said Felipe, impatiently. "You can't understand,because you've never been among them. But they are just as proud as weare. Some of them, I mean; such men as old Pablo. They shear sheep formoney just as I sell wool for money. There isn't so much difference.Alessandro's men in the band obey him, and all the men in the villageobey Pablo, just as implicitly as my men here obey me. Faith, much moreso!" added Felipe, laughing. "You can't understand it, mother, but it'sso. I am not at all sure I could offer Alessandro Assis money enough totempt him to stay here as my servant."
The Senora's nostrils dilated in scorn. "No, I do not understand it,"she said. "Most certainly I do not understand it. Of what is it thatthese noble lords of villages are so proud? their ancestors,--nakedsavages less than a hundred years ago? Naked savages they themselvestoo, to-day, if we had not come here to teach and civilize them. Therace was never meant for anything but servants. That was all the Fathersever expected to make of them,--good, faithful Catholics, and contentedlaborers in the fields. Of course there are always exceptionalinstances, and I think, myself, Alessandro is one. I don't believe,however, he is so exceptional, but that if you were to offer him, forinstance, the same wages you pay Juan Can, he would jump at the chanceof staying on the place."
"Well, I shall think about it," said Felipe. "I'd like nothing betterthan to have him here always. He's a fellow I heartily like. I'll thinkabout it."
Which was all the Senora wanted done at present.
Ramona had chanced to come in as this conversation was going on. HearingAlessandro's name she seated herself at the window, looking out, butlistening intently. The month had done much for Alessandro withRamona, though neither Alessandro nor Ramona knew it. It had donethis much,--that Ramona knew always when Alessandro was near, that shetrusted him, and that she had ceased to think of him as an Indian anymore than when she thought of Felipe, she thought of him as a Mexican.Moreover, seeing the two men frequently together, she had admitted toherself, as Margarita had done before her, that Alessandro was far thehandsomer man of the two. This Ramona did not like to admit, but shecould not help it.
"I wish Felipe were as tall and strong as Alessandro," she said toherself many a time. "I do not see why he could not have been. I wonderif the Senora sees how much handsomer Alessandro is."
When Felipe said that he did not believe he could offer Alessandro Assismoney enough to tempt him to stay on the place, Ramona opened her lipssuddenly, as if to speak, then changed her mind, and remained silent.She had sometimes displeased the Senora by taking part in conversationsbetween her and her son.
Felipe saw the motion, but he also thought it wiser to wait till afterhis mother had left the room, before he asked Ramona what she was on thepoint of saying. As soon as the Senora went out, he said, "What was it,Ramona, you were going to say just now?"
Ramona colored. She had decided not to say it.
"Tell me, Ramona," persisted Felipe. "You were going to say somethingabout Alessandro's staying; I know you were."
Ramona did not answer. For the first time in her life she found herselfembarrassed before Felipe.
"Don't you like Alessandro?" said Felipe.
"Oh, yes!" replied Ramona, with instant eagerness. "It was not that atall. I like him very much;" But then she stopped.
"Well, what is it, then? Have
you heard anything on the place about hisstaying?"
"Oh, no, no; not a word!" said Ramona. "Everybody understands that he ishere only till Juan Can gets well. But you said you did not believe youcould offer him money enough to tempt him to stay."
"Well," said Felipe, inquiringly, "I do not. Do you?"
"I think he would like to stay," said Ramona, hesitatingly. "That waswhat I was going to say."
"What makes you think so?" asked Felipe.
"I don't know," Ramona said, still more hesitatingly. Now that she hadsaid it, she was sorry. Felipe looked curiously at her. Hesitancy likethis, doubts, uncertainty as to her impressions, were not characteristicof Ramona. A flitting something which was far from being suspicionor jealousy, and yet was of kin to them both, went through Felipe'smind,--went through so swiftly that he was scarce conscious of it; ifhe had been, he would have scorned himself. Jealous of an Indiansheep-shearers Impossible! Nevertheless, the flitting something left atrace, and prevented Felipe from forgetting the trivial incident; andafter this, it was certain that Felipe would observe Ramona more closelythan he had done; would weigh her words and actions; and if she shouldseem by a shade altered in either, would watch still more closely.Meshes were closing around Ramona. Three watchers of her every look andact,--Alessandro in pure love, Margarita in jealous hate, Felipe in loveand perplexity. Only the Senora observed her not. If she had,matters might have turned out very differently, for the Senora wasclear-sighted, rarely mistaken in her reading of people's motives, neverlong deceived; but her observing and discriminating powers were not infocus, so far as Ramona was concerned. The girl was curiously outside ofthe Senora's real life. Shelter, food, clothes, all external needs, inso far as her means allowed, the Senora would, without fail, provide forthe child her sister had left in her hands as a trust; but a personalrelation with her, a mother's affection, or even interest andacquaintance, no. The Senora had not that to give. And if she had itnot, was she to blame? What could she do? Years ago Father Salvierderrahad left off remonstrating with her on this point. "Is there more Ishould do for the child? Do you see aught lacking, aught amiss?" theSenora would ask, conscientiously, but with pride. And the Father, thusinquired of, could not point out a duty which had been neglected.
"You do not love her, my daughter," he said.
"No." Senora Moreno's truthfulness was of the adamantine order. "No, Ido not. I cannot. One cannot love by act of will."
"That is true," the Father would say sadly; "but affection may becultivated."
"Yes, if it exists," was the Senora's constant answer. "But in this caseit does not exist. I shall never love Ramona. Only at your command, andto save my sister a sorrow, I took her. I will never fail in my duty toher."
It was of no use. As well say to the mountain, "Be cast into the sea,"as try to turn the Senora's heart in any direction whither it did not ofitself tend. All that Father Salvierderra could do, was to love Ramonathe more himself, which he did heartily, and more and more each year,and small marvel at it; for a gentler, sweeter maiden never drew breaththan this same Ramona, who had been all these years, save for Felipe,lonely in the Senora Moreno's house.
Three watchers of Ramona now. If there had been a fourth, and thatfourth herself, matters might have turned out differently. But howshould Ramona watch? How should Ramona know? Except for her two years atschool with the nuns, she had never been away from the Senora's house.Felipe was the only young man she had known,--Felipe, her brother sinceshe was five years old.
There were no gayeties in the Senora Moreno's home. Felipe, when heneeded them, went one day's journey, or two, or three, to get them; wentas often as he liked. Ramona never went. How many times she had longedto go to Santa Barbara, or to Monterey, or Los Angeles; but to haveasked the Senora's permission to accompany her on some of her nowinfrequent journeys to these places would have required more couragethan Ramona possessed. It was now three years since she left the conventschool, but she was still as fresh from the hands of the nuns as on theday when, with loving tears, they had kissed her in farewell. The fewromances and tales and bits of verse she had read were of the mostinnocent and old-fashioned kind, and left her hardly less childlike thanbefore. This childlikeness, combined with her happy temperament, hadkept her singularly contented in her monotonous life. She had fed thebirds, taken care of the flowers, kept the chapel in order, helped inlight household work, embroidered, sung, and, as the Senora eightyears before had bade her do, said her prayers and pleased FatherSalvierderra.
By processes strangely unlike, she and Alessandro had both been keptstrangely free from thoughts of love and of marriage,--he by living inthe shadow, and she by living in the sun; his heart and thoughts filledwith perplexities and fears, hers filled by a placid routine of lightand easy tasks, and the outdoor pleasures of a child.
As the days went on, and Felipe still remained feeble, Alessandromeditated a bold stroke. Each time that he went to Felipe's room to singor to play, he felt himself oppressed by the air. An hour of it made himuncomfortable. The room was large, and had two windows, and the door wasnever shut; yet the air seemed to Alessandro stifling.
"I should be as ill as the Senor Felipe, if I had to stay in that room,and a bed is a weakening thing, enough to pull the strongest man down,"said Alessandro to Juan Can one day. "Do you think I should anger themif I asked them to let me bring Senor Felipe out to the veranda and puthim on a bed of my making? I'd wager my head I'd put him on his feet ina week."
"And if you did that, you might ask the Senora for the half of theestate, and get it, lad," replied Juan, Seeing the hot blood darkeningin Alessandro's face at his words, he hastened to add, "Do not be sohot-blooded. I meant not that you would ask any reward for doing it; Iwas only thinking what joy it would be to the Senora to see Senor Felipeon his feet again. It has often crossed my thoughts that if he did notget up from this sickness the Senora would not be long behind him. It isbut for him that she lives. And who would have the estate in that case,I have never been able to find out."
"Would it not be the Senorita?" asked Alessandro.
Juan Can laughed an ugly laugh. "Ha, ha! Let the Senora hear you saythat!" he said. "Faith, it will be little the Senorita gets morethan enough for her bread, may be, out of the Moreno estate. Hark ye,Alessandro; if you will not tell, I will tell you the story of theSenorita. You know she is not of the Moreno blood; is no relation oftheirs."
"Yes," said Alessandro; "Margarita has said to me that the SenoritaRamona was only the foster-child of the Senora Moreno."
"Foster-child!" repeated Juan Can, contemptuously, "there is somethingto the tale I know not, nor ever could find out; for when I was inMonterey the Ortegna house was shut, and I could not get speech of anyof their people. But this much I know, that it was the Senora Ortegnathat had the girl first in keeping; and there was a scandalous taleabout her birth."
If Juan Can's eyes had not been purblind with old age, he would haveseen that in Alessandro's face which would have made him choose hiswords more carefully. But he went on: "It was after the Senora Ortegnawas buried, that our Senora returned, bringing this child with her; andI do assure you, lad, I have seen the Senora look at her many a time asif she wished her dead. And it is a shame, for she was always as fairand good a child as the saints ever saw. But a stain on the blood, astain on the blood, lad, is a bitter thing in a house. This much I know,her mother was an Indian. Once when I was in the chapel, behind the bigSaint Joseph there, I overheard the Senora say as much. She was talkingto Father Salvierderra, and she said, 'If the child had only the oneblood in her veins, it would be different. I like not these crosses withIndians.'"
If Alessandro had been civilized, he would at this word "Indian" havebounded to his feet. Being Alessandro, he stood if possible stiller thanbefore, and said in a low voice, "How know you it was the mother thatwas the Indian?"
Juan laughed again, maliciously: "Ha, it is the Ortegna face she has;and that Ortegna, why, he was the scandal byword of the whole coast.There was not a de
cent woman would have spoken to him, except for hiswife's sake."
"But did you not say that it was in the Senora Ortegna's keeping thatthe child was?" asked Alessandro, breathing harder and faster eachmoment now; stupid old Juan Can so absorbed in relish of his gossip,that he noticed nothing.
"Ay, ay. So I said," he went on "and so it was. There be such saints,you know; though the Lord knows if she had been minded to give shelterto all her husband's bastards, she might have taken lease of a church tohold them. But there was a story about a man's coming with this infantand leaving it in the Senora's room; and she, poor lady, never havinghad a child of her own, did warm to it at first sight, and kept it withher to the last; and I wager me, a hard time she had to get our Senorato take the child when she died; except that it was to spite Ortegna, Ithink our Senora would as soon the child had been dead."
"Has she not treated her kindly?" asked Alessandro, in a husky voice.
Juan Can's pride resented this question. "Do you suppose the SenoraMoreno would do an unkindness to one under her roof?" he asked loftily."The Senorita has been always, in all things, like Senor Felipe himself.It was so that she promised the Senora Ortegna, I have heard."
"Does the Senorita know all this?" asked Alessandro.
Juan Can crossed himself. "Saints save us, no!" he exclaimed. "I'll notforget, to my longest day, what it cost me, once I spoke in her hearing,when she was yet small. I did not know she heard; but she went to theSenora, asking who was her mother. And she said I had said her motherwas no good, which in faith I did, and no wonder. And the Senora came tome, and said she, 'Juan Canito, you have been a long time in our house;but if ever I hear of your mentioning aught concerning the SenoritaRamona, on this estate or anywhere else in the country, that day youleave my service!'--And you'd not do me the ill-turn to speak of it,Alessandro, now?" said the old man, anxiously. "My tongue runs away withme, lying here on this cursed bed, with nothing to do,--an active manlike me."
"No, I'll not speak of it, you may be assured," said Alessandro, walkingaway slowly.
"Here! Here!" called Juan. "What about that plan you had for making abed for Senor Felipe on the verandah Was it of raw-hide you meant?"
"Ah, I had forgotten," said Alessandro, returning. "Yes, that was it.There is great virtue in a raw-hide, tight stretched; my father saysthat it is the only bed the Fathers would ever sleep on, in the Missiondays. I myself like the ground even better; but my father sleeps alwayson the rawhide. He says it keeps him well. Do you think I might speak ofit to the Senora?"
"Speak of it to Senor Felipe himself," said Juan. "It will be as hesays. He rules this place now, from beginning to end; and it is butyesterday I held him on my knee. It is soon that the old are pushed tothe wall, Alessandro."
"Nay, Juan Canito," replied Alessandro, kindly. "It is not so. My fatheris many years older than you are, and he rules our people to-day asfirmly as ever. I myself obey him, as if I were a lad still."
"What else, then, but a lad do you call yourself, I wonder?" thoughtJuan; but he answered, "It is not so with us. The old are not held insuch reverence."
"That is not well," replied Alessandro. "We have been taughtdifferently. There is an old man in our village who is many, many yearsolder than my father. He helped to carry the mortar at the building ofthe San Diego Mission, I do not know how many years ago. He is long pasta hundred years of age. He is blind and childish, and cannot walk; buthe is cared for by every one. And we bring him in our arms to everycouncil, and set him by my father's side. He talks very foolishlysometimes, but my father will not let him be interrupted. He saysit brings bad luck to affront the aged. We will presently be agedourselves."
"Ay, ay!" said Juan, sadly. "We must all come to it. It is beginning tolook not so far off to me!"
Alessandro stared, no less astonished at Juan Can's unconsciousrevelation of his standard of measurement of years than Juan had beenat his. "Faith, old man, what name dost give to yourself to-day!" hethought; but went on with the topic of the raw-hide bed. "I may not sosoon get speech with Senor Felipe," he said. "It is usually when he issleepy that I go to play for him or to sing. But it makes my heart heavyto see him thus languishing day by day, and all for lack of the air andthe sun, I do believe, indeed, Juan."
"Ask the Senorita, then," said Juan. "She has his ear at all times."
Alessandro made no answer. Why was it that it did not please him,--thissuggestion of speaking to Ramona of his plan for Felipe's welfare? Hecould not have told; but he did not wish to speak of it to her.
"I will speak to the Senora," he said; and as luck would have it, atthat moment the Senora stood in the doorway, come to ask after JuanCan's health.
The suggestion of the raw-hide bed struck her favorably. She herselfhad, in her youth, heard much of their virtues, and slept on them."Yes," she said, "they are good. We will try it. It was only yesterdaythat Senor Felipe was complaining of the bed he lies on and when hewas well, he thought nothing could be so good; he brought it here, at agreat price, for me, but I could not lie on it. It seemed as if it wouldthrow me off as soon as I lay down; it is a cheating device, like allthese innovations the Americans have brought into the country. But SenorFelipe till now thought it a luxury; now he tosses on it, and says it isthrowing him all the time."
Alessandro smiled, in spite of his reverence for the Senora. "I once laydown on one myself, Senora," he said, "and that was what I said to myfather. It was like a wild horse under me, making himself ready to buck.I thought perhaps the invention was of the saints, that men should notsleep too long."
"There is a pile of raw-hides," said Juan, "well cured, but not toostiff; Juan Jose was to have sent them off to-day to be sold; one ofthose will be just right. It must not be too dry."
"The fresher the better," said Alessandro, "so it have no dampness.Shall I make the bed, Senora?" he asked, "and will the Senora permitthat I make it on the veranda? I was just asking Juan Can if he thoughtI might be so bold as to ask you to let me bring Senor Felipe into theouter air. With us, it is thought death to be shut up in walls, as hehas been so long. Not till we are sure to die, do we go into the darklike that."
The Senora hesitated. She did not share Alessandro's prejudice in favorof fresh air.
"Night and day both?" she said. "Surely it is not well to sleep out inthe night?"
"That is the best of all, Senora," replied Alessandro, earnestly. "I begthe Senora to try it. If Senor Felipe have not mended greatly after thefirst night he had so slept, then Alessandro will be a liar."
"No, only mistaken," said the Senora, gently. She felt herself greatlydrawn to this young man by his devotion, as she thought, of Felipe."When I die and leave Felipe here," she had more than once said toherself, "it would be a great good to him to have such a servant as thison the place."
"Very well, Alessandro," she replied; "make the bed, and we will try itat once."
This was early in the forenoon. The sun was still high in the west,when Ramona, sitting as usual in the veranda, at her embroidery, sawAlessandro coming, followed by two men, bearing the raw-hide bed.
"What can that be?" she said. "Some new invention of Alessandro's, butfor what?"
"A bed for the Senor Felipe, Senorita," said Alessandro, running lightlyup the steps. "The Senora has given permission to place it here on theveranda, and Senor Felipe is to lie here day and night; and it will bea marvel in your eyes how he will gain strength. It is the close roomwhich is keeping him weak now; he has no illness."
"I believe that is the truth, Alessandro," exclaimed Ramona; "I havebeen thinking the same thing. My head aches after I am in that room butan hour, and when I come here I am well. But the nights too, Alessandro?Is it not harmful to sleep out in the night air?"
"Why, Senorita?" asked Alessandro, simply.
And Ramona had no answer, except, "I do not know; I have always heardso."
"My people do not think so," replied Alessandro; "unless it is cold,we like it better. It is good, Senorita, to look up at the sky in
thenight."
"I should think it would be," cried Ramona. "I never thought of it. Ishould like to do it."
Alessandro was busy, with his face bent down, arranging the bedstead ina sheltered corner of the veranda. If his face had been lifted, Ramonawould have seen a look on it that would have startled her more thanthe one she had surprised a few days previous, after the incident withMargarita. All day there had been coming and going in Alessandro's braina confused procession of thoughts, vague yet intense. Put in words,they would have been found to be little more than ringing changes onthis idea: "The Senorita Ramona has Indian blood in her veins. TheSenorita Ramona is alone. The Senora loves her not. Indian blood! Indianblood!" These, or something like them, would have been the words; butAlessandro did not put them in words. He only worked away on the roughposts for Senor Felipe's bedstead, hammered, fitted, stretched theraw-hide and made it tight and firm, driving every nail, striking everyblow, with a bounding sense of exultant strength, as if there weresuddenly all around him a new heaven and a new earth.
Now, when he heard Ramona say suddenly in her girlish, eager tone, "Itmust be; I never thought of it; I should like to try it," these vagueconfused thoughts of the day, and the day's bounding sense of exultantstrength, combined in a quick vision before Alessandro's eyes,--a visionof starry skies overhead, Ramona and himself together, looking up tothem. But when he raised his head, all he said was, "There, Senorita!That is all firm, now. If Senor Felipe will let me lay him an this bed,he will sleep as he has not slept since he fell ill."
Ramona ran eagerly into Felipe's room, "The bed is all ready on theveranda," she exclaimed. "Shall Alessandro come in and carry you out?"
Felipe looked up, startled. The Senora turned on Ramona that expressionof gentle, resigned displeasure, which always hurt the girl's sensitivenature far worse than anger. "I had not spoken to Felipe yet of thechange, Ramona," she said. "I supposed that Alessandro would haveinformed me when the bed was ready; I am sorry you came in so suddenly.Felipe is still very weak, you see."
"What is it? What is it?" exclaimed Felipe, impatiently.
As soon as it was explained to him, he was like a child in his haste tobe moved.
"That's just what I needed!" he exclaimed. "This cursed bed racks everybone in my body, and I have longed for the sun more than ever a thirstyman longed for water. Bless you, Alessandro," he went on, seeingAlessandro in the doorway. "Come here, and take me up in those long armsof yours, and carry me quick. Already I feel myself better."
Alessandro lifted him as if he were a baby; indeed, it was but a lightburden now, Felipe's wasted body, for a man much less strong thanAlessandro to lift.
Ramona, chilled and hurt, ran in advance, carrying pillows and blankets.As she began to arrange them on the couch, the Senora took them from herhands, saying, "I will arrange them myself;" and waved Ramona away.
It was a little thing. Ramona was well used to such. Ordinarily it wouldhave given her no pain she could not conceal. But the girl's nerves werenot now in equilibrium. She had had hard work to keep back her tearsat the first rebuff. This second was too much. She turned, and walkedswiftly away, the tears rolling down her cheeks.
Alessandro saw it; Felipe saw it.
To Felipe the sight was, though painful, not a surprise. He knew buttoo well how often his mother hurt Ramona. All he thought now, in hisweakness, was, "Alas! what a pity my mother does not love Ramona!"
To Alessandro the sight was the one drop too much in the cup. As hestooped to lay Felipe on the bed, he trembled so that Felipe looked up,half afraid.
"Am I still so heavy, Alessandro?" he said smiling.
"It is not your weight, Senor Felipe," answered Alessandro, off guard,still trembling, his eyes following Ramona.
Felipe saw. In the next second, the eyes of the two young men met.Alessandro's fell before Felipe's. Felipe gazed on, steadily, atAlessandro.
"Ah!" he said; and as he said it, he closed his eyes, and let his headsink back into the pillow.
"Is that comfortable? Is that right?" asked the Senora, who had seennothing.
"The first comfortable moment I have had, mother," said Felipe. "Stay,Alessandro, I want to speak to you as soon as I am rested. This move hasshaken me up a good deal. Wait."
"Yes, Senor," replied Alessandro, and seated himself on the verandasteps.
"If you are to stay, Alessandro," said the Senora, "I will go and lookafter some matters that need my attention. I feel always at ease aboutSenor Felipe when you are with him. You will stay till I come back?"
"Yes, Senora," said Alessandro, in a tone cold as the Senora's own hadbeen to Ramona. He was no longer in heart the Senora Moreno's servant.In fact, he was at that very moment revolving confusedly in his mindwhether there could be any possibility of his getting away before theexpiration of the time for which he had agreed to stay.
It was a long time before Felipe opened his eyes. Alessandro thought hewas asleep.
At last Felipe spoke. He had been watching Alessandro's face for someminutes. "Alessandro," he said.
Alessandro sprang to his feet, and walked swiftly to the bedside. He didnot know what the next word might be. He felt that the Senor Felipe hadseen straight into his heart in that one moment's look, and Alessandrowas preparing for anything.
"Alessandro," said Felipe, "my mother has been speaking to me about yourremaining with us permanently. Juan Can is now very old, and after thisaccident will go on crutches the rest of his days, poor soul! We are ingreat need of some man who understands sheep, and the care of the placegenerally."
As he spoke, he watched Alessandro's face closely. Swift changingexpressions passed over it. Surprise predominated. Felipe misunderstoodthe surprise. "I knew you would be surprised," he said. "I told mymother that you would not think of it; that you had stayed now onlybecause we were in trouble."
Alessandro bowed his head gratefully. This recognition from Felipe gavehim pleasure.
"Yes, Senor," he said, "that was it. I told Father Salvierderra it wasnot for the wages. But my father and I have need of all the money we canearn. Our people are very poor, Senor. I do not know whether my fatherwould think I ought to take the place you offer me, or not, Senor. Itwould be as he said. I will ask him."
"Then you would be willing to take it?" asked Felipe.
"Yes, Senor, if my father wished me to take it," replied Alessandro,looking steadily and gravely at Felipe; adding, after a second'spause, "if you are sure that you desire it, Senor Felipe, it would be apleasure to me to be of help to you."
And yet it was only a few moments ago that Alessandro had been turningover in his mind the possibility of leaving the Senora Moreno's serviceimmediately. This change had not been a caprice, not been an impulseof passionate desire to remain near Ramona; it had come from a suddenconsciousness that the Senor Felipe would be his friend. And Alessandrowas not mistaken.