Ramona, by Helen Hunt Jackson

as she spoke, by a swift resolute movement into her bosom. 'I am very glad to have one thing that belonged to my father. The jewels, Senora, you can give to the Church, if Father Salvierderra thinks that is right. I shall marry Alessandro;' and still keeping one hand in her bosom where she had thrust the handkerchief, she walked away and seated herself again in her chair.
Father Salvierderra! The name smote the Senora like a spear-thrust, There could be no stronger evidence of the abnormal excitement under which she had been laboring for the last twenty-four hours, than the fact that she had not once, during all this time, thought to ask herself what Father Salvierderra would say, or might command, in this crisis. Her religion and the long habit of its outward bonds had alike gone from her in her sudden wrath against Ramona. It was with a real terror that she became conscious of this.
'Father Salvierderra?' she stammered; 'he has nothing to do with it.'
But Ramona saw the change in the Senora's face, at the word, and followed up her advantage. 'Father Salvierderra has to do with everything,' she said boldly. 'He knows Alessandro, He will not forbid me to marry him, and if he did—' Ramona stopped. She also was smitten with a sudden terror at the vista opening before her,—of a disobedience to Father Salvierderra.
'And if he did,' repeated the Senora, eyeing Ramona keenly, 'would you disobey him?'
'Yes,' said Ramona.
'I will tell Father Salvierderra what you say,' retorted the Senora, sarcastically, 'that he may spare himself the humiliation of laying any commands on you, to be thus disobeyed.'
Ramona's lip quivered, and her eyes filled with the tears which no other of the Senora's taunts had been strong enough to bring. Dearly she loved the old monk; had loved him since her earliest recollection. His displeasure would be far more dreadful to her than the Senora's. His would give her grief; the Senora's, at utmost, only terror.
Clasping her hands, she said, 'Oh, Senora, have mercy! Do not say that to the Father!'
'It is my duty to tell the Father everything that happens in my family,' answered the Senora, chillingly. 'He will agree with me, that if you persist in this disobedience you will deserve the severest punishment. I shall tell him all;' and she began putting the trays back in the box.
'You will not tell him as it really is, Senora,' persisted Ramona. 'I will tell him myself.'
'You shall not see him! I will take care of that!' cried the Senora, so vindictively that Ramona shuddered.
'I will give you one more chance,' said the Senora, pausing in the act of folding up one of the damask gowns. 'Will you obey me? Will you promise to have nothing more to do with this Indian?'
'Never, Senora,' replied Ramona; 'never!'
'Then the consequences be on your own head,' cried the Senora. 'Go to your room! And, hark! I forbid you to speak of all this to Senor Felipe. Do you hear?'
Ramona bowed her head. 'I hear,' she said; and gliding out of the room, closed the door behind her, and instead of going to her room, sped like a hunted creature down the veranda steps, across the garden, calling in a low tone, 'Felipe! Felipe! Where are you, Felipe?'

XII

THE little sheepfold, or corral, was beyond the artichoke-patch, on that southern slope whose sunshine had proved so disastrous a temptation to Margarita in the matter of drying the altar-cloth. It was almost like a terrace, this long slope; and the sheepfold, being near the bottom, was wholly out of sight of the house. This was the reason Felipe had selected it as the safest spot for his talk with Alessandro.
When Ramona reached the end of the trellised walk in the garden, she halted and looked to the right and left. No one was in sight. As she entered the Senora's room an hour before, she had caught a glimpse of some one, she felt almost positive it was Felipe, turning off in the path to the left, leading down to the sheepfold. She stood irresolute for a moment, gazing earnestly down this path. 'If the saints would only tell 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 fortune was favoring Ramona, for once; even as the words passed her lips, she saw 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 told me.'
'She forbade me to speak to you, Felipe,' said Ramona, 'but I could not bear it. What are we to do? Where is Alessandro?'
'My mother forbade you to speak to me!' cried Felipe, in a tone of terror. '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 to me. 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 more angry. I don't know what she will do till I talk with her. Do go back to your room! Did she not tell you to stay there?'
'Yes,' sobbed Ramona, 'but I cannot. Oh, Felipe, I am so afraid! Do help us! 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 this minute? 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 talk to her. Fly, I implore you. I can't do anything for you if she sees me talking with you now;' and he turned away, and walked swiftly down the terrace.
Ramona felt as if she were indeed alone in the world. How could she go 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 when she entered her room, she sank on the floor in a paroxysm of hopeless weeping. If she had known that Alessandro was already a good half-hour's journey on his way to Temecula, galloping farther and farther away from her each moment, she would have despaired indeed.
This was what Felipe, after hearing the whole story, had counselled him to do. Alessandro had given him so vivid a description of the Senora's face and tone, when she had ordered him out of her sight, that Felipe was alarmed. He had never seen his mother angry like that. He could not conceive why her wrath should have been so severe. The longer he talked with Alessandro, the more he felt that it would be wiser for him to be out of sight till the first force of her anger had been spent. 'I will say that I sent you,' said Felipe, 'so she cannot feel that you have committed any offence in going. Come back in four days, and by that time it will be all settled what you shall do.'
It went hard with Alessandro to go without seeing Ramona; but it did not need Felipe's exclamation of surprise, to convince him that it would be foolhardy to attempt it. His own judgment had told him that it would be out of the question.