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And she had sat down each day at loaded tables, and seen, each day, good food thrown to the dogs to eat. It was long before the Senora went to her room; and long after that before Felipe's breathing had become so deep and regular that Ramona dared feel sure that he was asleep. At last she ventured out. All was dark; it was past midnight.
Felipe's body was washed ashore, but Truxill's never came; only his gay, braided hat of golden straw that same sunflower thing he waved to her, pushing from the strand and now, to the last gallant, it still saluted her. But Felipe's body floated to the marge, with one arm encirclingly outstretched.
If he could only change what they said, he could rest. "Has the padre any mail for Santa Barbara?" said Felipe. "The ship bound southward should be here to-morrow." "I will attend to it," said the priest, not moving. And Felipe stole away. At Felipe's words the voices had stopped, a clock done striking. Silence, strained like expectation, filled the padre's soul.
The linnets were all nesting, and the finches and the canaries too; and the Senora spent hours, every day, tirelessly feeding the mothers. The vines had all grown and spread out to their thickest; no need any longer of the gay blanket Alessandro had pinned up that first morning to keep the sun off Felipe's head. What was the odds between a to-day and a to-morrow in such a spot as this?
The sky was cloudless and the distant range of low mountains stood out sharp and clear against the sky. As Kid Wolf rode into the town, a hard wind was blowing across the sands and it was high noon. San Felipe's single street presented an interesting appearance. Most of the long, flat adobes were saloons The Kid did not need to read the signs above them to see that.
But I have loved you so long so long!" Ramona's head had fallen forward on her breast, her eyes fixed on the shining sands; the waves rose and fell, rose and fell, at her feet gently as sighs. A great revelation had come to Ramona. In this supreme moment of Felipe's abandonment of all disguises, she saw his whole past life in a new light. Remorse smote her.
The new-comer revealed surprise, not alone at Felipe's sobriety, though this was startling in view of the disorder in the trail, but also at the proffer of cigarette material. And he was about to speak when Felipe interrupted him. "You haf t'ink I'm drunk, eh, Franke?" he said. "Sure! Why not?" And he waved his hand in the direction of the trail.
At ordinary times he would not have relied in vain. But Felipe's nerves were in a jangle these days, and his temper, since Buelna's dismissal of him, was bitter. His perception of offense was keen. He rose, his eyes upon the stranger's eyes. "My horse is mine," he observed. "Only my friends permit themselves liberties with what is mine."
She leaned from her window, and listened to Felipe's breathing. "How can I go without bidding him good-by?" she said. "How can I?" and she stood irresolute. "Dear Felipe! Dear Felipe! He has always been so good to me! He has done all he could for me. I wish I dared kiss him. I will leave a note for him."
He was a shy and rather modest man, and felt, perhaps, that there was a suggestion of condescension in Felipe's attitude. If Felipe had come here to pay his addresses to Rosa, he, Tomaso, was not the man to put difficulties in the way. For he was one of those rare men who, in loving, place themselves in the background. He loved Rosa, in a word, better than he loved himself.
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