Ramona, by Helen Hunt Jackson

Alessandro,' she reiterated with emphasis. 'Is it not strange?'
'Yes, Senorita,' he replied solemnly, laying his hand on hers as he walked close at her side. 'It is strange. I am afraid,—afraid for you, my Senorita! But it is done, and we will not go back; and perhaps the saints will help you, and will let me take care of you. They must love you, Senorita; but they do not love me, nor my people.'
'Are you never going to call me by my name?' asked Ramona. 'I hate your calling me Senorita. That was what the Senora always called me when she was displeased.'
'I will never speak the word again!' cried Alessandro. 'The saints forbid I should speak to you in the words of that woman!'
'Can't you say Ramona?' she asked.
Alessandro hesitated. He could not have told why it seemed to him difficult to say Ramona.
'What was that other name, you said you always thought of me by?' she continued. 'The Indian name,—the name of the dove?'
'Majel,' he said. 'It is by that name I have oftenest thought of you since the night I watched all night for you, after you had kissed me, and two wood-doves were calling and answering each other in the dark; and I said to myself, that is what my love is like, the wood-dove: the wood-dove's voice is low like hers, and sweeter than any other sound in the earth; and the wood-dove is true to one mate always—' He stopped.
'As I to you, Alessandro,' said Ramona, leaning from her horse, and resting her hand on Alessandro's shoulder.
Baba stopped. He was used to knowing by the most trivial signs what his mistress wanted; he did not understand this new situation; no one had ever before, when Ramona was riding him, walked by his side so close that he touched his shoulders, and rested his hand in his mane. If it had been anybody else than Alessandro, Baba would not have permitted it even now. But it must be all right, since Ramona was quiet; and now she had stretched out her hand and rested it on Alessandro's shoulder. Did that mean halt for a moment? Baba thought it might, and acted accordingly; turning his head round to the right, and looking back to see what came of it.
Alessandro's arms around Ramona, her head bent down to his, their lips together,—what could Baba think? As mischievously as if he had been a human being or an elf, Baba bounded to one side and tore the lovers apart. They both laughed, and cantered on,—Alessandro running; the poor Indian pony feeling the contagion, and loping as it had not done for many a day.
'Majel is my name, then,' said Ramona, 'is it? It is a sweet sound, but I would like it better Majella. Call me Majella.'
'That will be good,' replied Alessandro, 'for the reason that never before had any one the same name. It will not be hard for me to say Majella. I know not why your name of Ramona has always been hard to my tongue.'
'Because it was to be that you should call me Majella,' said Ramona. 'Remember, I am Ramona no longer. That also was the name the Senora called me by— and dear Felipe too,' she added thoughtfully. 'He would not know me by my new name. I would like to have him always call me Ramona. But for all the rest of the world I am Majella, now,—Alessandro's Majel!'

XVI

AFTER they reached the highway, and had trotted briskly on for a mile, Alessandro suddenly put out his hand, and taking Baba by the rein, began turning him round and round in the road.
'We will not go any farther in the road,' he said, 'but I must conceal our tracks here. We will go backwards for a few paces.' The obedient Baba backed slowly, half dancing, as if he understood the trick; the Indian pony, too, curvetted awkwardly, then by a sudden bound under Alessandro's skilful guidance, leaped over a rock to the right, and stood waiting further orders. Baba followed, and Capitan; and there was no trail to show where they had left the road.
After trotting the pony round and round again in ever-widening circles, cantering off in one direction after another, then backing over the tracks for a few moments, Ramona docilely following, though much bewildered as to what it all meant, Alessandro said: 'I think now they will never discover where we left the road. They will ride along, seeing our tracks plain, and then they will be so sure that we would have kept straight on, that they will not notice for a time; and when they do, they will never be able to see where the trail ended. And now my Majella has a very hard ride before her. Will she be afraid?'
'Afraid.' laughed Ramona. 'Afraid,—on Baba, and with you!'
But it was indeed a hard ride. Alessandro had decided to hide for the day in a canon he knew, from which a narrow trail led direct to Temecula,—a trail which was known to none but Indians. Once in this canon, they would be safe from all possible pursuit. Alessandro did not in the least share Ramona's confidence that no effort would be made to overtake them. To his mind, it appeared certain that the Senora would never accept the situation without making an attempt to recover at least the horse and the dog. 'She can say, if she chooses, that I have stolen one of her horses,' he thought to himself bitterly; 'and everybody would believe her. Nobody would believe us, if we said it was the Senorita's own horse.'
The head of the canon was only a couple of miles from the road; but it was in a nearly impenetrable thicket of chaparral, where young oaks had grown up so high that their tops made, as it were, a second stratum of thicket. Alessandro had never ridden through it; he had come up on foot once from the other side, and, forcing his way through the tangle had found, to his surprise, that he was near the highway. It was from this canon that he had brought the ferns which it had so delighted Ramona to arrange for the decoration of the chapel. The place was filled with them, growing almost in tropical luxuriance; but this was a mile or so farther down, and to reach that spot from above, Alessandro had had to let himself down a sheer wall of stone. The canon at its head was little more than a rift in the rocks, and the stream which had its rise in it was only a trickling spring at the beginning. It was this precious water, as well as the inaccessibility of the spot, which had decided Alessandro to gain the place at all hazards and costs. But a wall of granite would not have seemed a much more insuperable obstacle than did this wall of chaparral, along which they rode, vainly searching for a break in it. It appeared to Alessandro to have thickened and knit even since the last spring. At last they made their way down a small side canon,—a sort of wing to the main canon; a very few rods down this, and they were as hidden from view from above as if the earth had swallowed them. The first red tints of the dawn were coming. From the eastern horizon to the zenith, the whole sky was like a dappled crimson fleece.
'Oh, what a lovely place.' exclaimed Ramona. 'I am sure this was not a hard ride at all, Alessandro! Is this where we are to stay?'
Alessandro turned a compassionate look upon her. 'How little does the wood-dove know of rough places!' he said. 'This is only the beginning; hardly is it even the beginning.'
Fastening his pony to a bush, he reconnoitred the place, disappearing from sight the moment he entered the chaparral in any direction. Returning at last, with a grave face, he said, 'Will Majella let me leave her here for a little time? There is a way, but I can find it only on foot. I will not be gone long. I know it is near.'
Tears came into Ramona's eyes. The only thing she dreaded was the losing sight of Alessandro. He gazed at her anxiously. 'I must go, Majella,' he said with emphasis. 'We are in danger here.'