Alessandro, 'you,'—she was about to say, 'You are discharged from my service from this hour,' but recollecting herself in time, said,—'you will answer to Senor Felipe. Out of my sight!' And the Senora Moreno actually, for once in her life beside herself with rage, stamped her foot on the ground. 'Out of my sight!' she repeated. Alessandro did not stir, except to turn towards Ramona with an inquiring look. He would run no risk of doing what she did not wish. He had no idea what she would think it best to do in this terrible dilemma. 'Go, Alessandro,' said Ramona, calmly, still looking the Senora full in the eye. Alessandro obeyed; before the words had left her lips, he had walked away. Ramona's composure, and Alessandro's waiting for further orders than her own before stirring from the spot, were too much for Senora Moreno. A wrath, such as she had not felt since she was young, took possession of her. As Ramona opened her lips again, saying, 'Senora,' the Senora did a shameful deed; she struck the girl on the mouth, a cruel blow. 'Speak not to me!' she cried again; and seizing her by the arm, she pushed rather than dragged her up the garden-walk. 'Senora, you hurt my arm,' said Ramona, still in the same calm voice. 'You need not hold me. I will go with you. I am not afraid.' Was this Ramona? The Senora, already ashamed, let go the arm, and stared in the girl's face. Even in the twilight she could see upon it an expression of transcendent peace, and a resolve of which no one would have thought it capable. 'What does this mean?' thought the Senora, still weak, and trembling all over, from rage. 'The hussy, the hypocrite!' and she seized the arm again. This time Ramona did not remonstrate, but submitted to being led like a prisoner, pushed into her own room, the door slammed violently and locked on the outside. All of which Margarita saw. She had known for an hour that Ramona and Alessandro were at the willows, and she had been consumed with impatience at the Senora's prolonged absence. More than once she had gone to Felipe, and asked with assumed interest if he were not hungry, and if he and the Senorita would not have their supper. 'No, no, not till the Senora returns,' Felipe had answered. He, too, happened this time to know where Ramona and Alessandro were. He knew also where the Senora had gone, and that she would be late home; but he did not know that there would be any chance of her returning by way of the willows at the brook; if he had known it, he would have contrived to summon Ramona. When Margarita saw Ramona shoved into her room by the pale and trembling Senora, saw the key turned, taken out, and dropped into the Senora's pocket, she threw her apron over her head, and ran into the back porch. Almost a remorse seized her. She remembered in a flash how often Ramona had helped her in times gone by,—sheltered her from the Senora's displeasure. She recollected the torn altar-cloth. 'Holy Virgin! what will be done to her now?' she exclaimed, under her breath. Margarita had never conceived of such an extremity as this. Disgrace, and a sharp reprimand, and a sundering of all relations with Alessandro,—this was all Margarita had meant to draw down on Ramona's head. But the Senora looked as if she might kill her. 'She always did hate her, in her heart,' reflected Margarita; 'she shan't starve her to death, anyhow. I'll never stand by and see that. But it must have been something shameful the Senora saw, to have brought her to such a pass as this;' and Margarita's jealousy again got the better of her sympathy. 'Good enough for her. No more than she deserved. An honest fellow like Alessandro, that would make a good husband for any girl!' Margarita's short-lived remorse was over. She was an enemy again. It was an odd thing, how identical were Margarita's and the Senora's view and interpretation of the situation. The Senora looking at it from above, and Margarita looking at it from below, each was sure, and they were both equally sure, that it could be nothing more nor less than a disgraceful intrigue. Mistress and maid were alike incapable either of conjecturing or of believing the truth. As ill luck would have it,—or was it good luck?— Felipe also had witnessed the scene in the garden-walk. Hearing voices, he had looked out of his window, and, almost doubting the evidence of his senses, had seen his mother violently dragging Ramona by the arm,—Ramona pale, but strangely placid; his mother with rage and fury in her white face. The sight told its own tale to Felipe. Smiting his forehead with his hand, he groaned out: 'Fool that I was, to let her be surprised; she has come on them unawares; now she will never, never forgive it!' And Felipe threw himself on his bed, to think what should be done. Presently he heard his mother's voice, still agitated, calling his name. He remained silent, sure she would soon seek him in his room. When she entered, and, seeing him on the bed, came swiftly towards him, saying, 'Felipe, dear, are you ill?' he replied in a feeble voice, 'No, mother, only tired a little to-night;' and as she bent over him, anxious, alarmed, he threw his arms around her neck and kissed her warmly. 'Mother mia!' he said passionately, 'what should I do without you?' The caress, the loving words, acted like oil on the troubled waters. They restored the Senora as nothing else could. What mattered anything, so long as she had her adoring and adorable son! And she would not speak to him, now that he was so tired, of this disgraceful and vexing matter of Alessandro. It could wait till morning. She would send him his supper in his room, and he would not miss Ramona, perhaps. 'I will send your supper here, Felipe,' she said; 'you must not overdo; you have been walking too much. Lie still.' And kissing him affectionately, she went to the dining-room, where Margarita, vainly trying to look as if nothing had happened, was standing, ready to serve supper. When the Senora entered, with her countenance composed, and in her ordinary tones said, 'Margarita, you can take Senor Felipe's supper into his room; he is lying down, and will not get up; he is tired,' Margarita was ready to doubt if she had not been in a nightmare dream. Had she, or had she not, within the last half-hour, seen the Senora, shaking and speechless with rage, push the Senorita Ramona into her room, and lock her up there? She was so bewildered that she stood still and gazed at the Senora, with her mouth wide open. 'What are you staring at, girl?' asked the Senora, so sharply that Margarita jumped. 'Oh, nothing, nothing, Senora! And the Senorita, will she come to supper? Shall I call her?' she said. The Senora eyed her. Had she seen? Could she have seen? The Senora Moreno was herself again. So long as Ramona was under her roof, no matter what she herself might do or say to the girl, no servant should treat her with disrespect, or know that aught was wrong. 'The Senorita is not well,' she said coldly. 'She is in her room. I myself will take her some supper later, if she wishes it. Do not disturb her.' And the Senora returned to Felipe. Margarita chuckled inwardly, and proceeded to clear the table she had spread with such malicious punctuality two short hours before. In those two short hours how much had happened! 'Small appetite for supper will our Senorita have, I reckon,' said the bitter Margarita, 'and the Senor Alessandro also! I'm curious to see how he will carry himself.' But her curiosity was not gratified. Alessandro came not to the kitchen. The last of the herdsmen had eaten and gone; it was past nine o'clock, and no Alessandro. Slyly Margarita ran out and searched in some of the places where she knew he was in the habit of going; but Alessandro was not to be found. Once she brushed so near his hiding-place that he thought he was discovered, and was on the point of speaking, but luckily held his peace, and she passed on. Alessandro was hid behind the geranium clump at the chapel door; sitting on the ground, with his knees drawn up to his chin, watching Ramona's window. He intended to stay there all night. He felt that he might be needed: if Ramona wanted him, she would
