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Updated: June 23, 2025
He was finding out, in thus being witness of Ramona's suffering, that she was far nearer and dearer to him than he had 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 her side, folding his arms around her, and bidding his mother defiance.
She had taken up in her hand a ragged, crimson silk handkerchief, which, tied in many knots, lay in one corner of the jewel-box. "There are pearls in that," said the Senora; "that came with the things your father sent to my sister when he died." Ramona's eyes gleamed. She began untying the knots. The handkerchief was old, the knots tied tight, and undisturbed for years.
After hearkening to it for a few moments, she rose noiselessly from her bed, and creeping to the window parted the curtains and looked out; noiselessly, she thought; but it was not noiselessly enough to escape Alessandro's quick ear; without a sound, he sprang to his feet, and stood looking at Ramona's window. "I am here, Senorita," he whispered. "Do you want anything?"
She, too, believed him dead; but her thought was of the Senora. "He is not dead," cried Juan Canito, who had thrust his hand under Felipe's shirt. "He is not dead. It is only a faint." At this the first tears rolled down Ramona's face. She looked piteously at the ladder up and down which she had seen Alessandro run as if it were an easy indoor staircase.
Alessandro turned a grateful look on Ramona as he translated this speech, so in unison with Indian modes of thought and feeling. A murmur of pleasure rose from the group of women sitting by. The aged woman made no reply; her eyes still studied Ramona's face, and she still held her hand. "Tell her," continued Ramona, "that I ask if there is anything I can do for her.
So much for Margarita's purpose, at the outset of a day destined to be an eventful one in her life. Ramona's purpose was no less clear.
How could I ever have made the mistake? I recollect nothing, Majella. I must have had one of the sicknesses." Ramona's heart was cold with fear. Only too well she knew what summary punishment was dealt in that region to horse-thieves. "Oh, let me take it back, dear!" she cried, "Let me go down with it. They will believe me."
A nature less gentle than Ramona's would have been embittered, or at least hardened, by this consciousness. But Ramona's was not. She never put it in words to herself. She accepted it, as those born deformed seem sometimes to accept the pain and isolation caused by their deformity, with an unquestioning acceptance, which is as far above resignation, as resignation is above rebellious repining.
This hymn to the "Beautiful Queen, Princess of Heaven," was one of his special favorites; and as he heard verse after verse rising, he could not forbear striking in. At the first notes of this rich new voice, Ramona's voice ceased in surprise; and, throwing up her window, she leaned out, eagerly looking in all directions to see who it could be. Alessandro saw her, and sang no more.
"She makes him of a hundred minds in a minute, and he can't help himself. Oh, I think she is in league with the fiends, Alessandro! Don't dare to come near the house; I will come here as soon as every one is asleep. We must go at once." Ramona's terrors overruled Alessandro's judgment, and he consented to wait for her at the spot where they now stood. She turned back twice to embrace him again.
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