Helen Hunt Jackson

“ In a moment more, snow-flakes began to fall.
“Holy Virgin!” cried Alessandro. Too well he knew what it meant. He urged the horses, running fast beside them. It was of no use. Too much even for Baba and Benito to make any haste, with the heavily loaded wagon.
“There is an old sheep-corral and a hut not over a mile farther, if we could but reach it!” groaned Alessandro. “Majella, you and the child will freeze.”
“She is warm on my breast,” said Ramona; “but, Alessandro, what ice in this wind! It is like a knife at my back!” ”

“ At the first tread of Baba's dainty steps on the rolling stones, he saw that the horse was as sure-footed as an Indian pony. In a few short hours, now, they would be all at rest. He knew where, under a sycamore-clump, there was running water, clear as crystal, and cold,—almost colder than one could drink,—and green grass too; plenty for two days' feed for the horses, or even three; and all California might be searched over in vain for them, once they were down this trail. His heart full of joy at these thoughts, he turned, to see Ramona pallid, her lips parted, her eyes full of terror. ”

“ The food on which Alessandro was, hour by hour, now growing strong, was as magic and invisible as Prince Connla's apple, and just as strength-giving.
“My Alessandro, how is it you look so well, so soon?” said Ramona, studying his countenance with loving care. “I thought that night you would die. Now you look nearly strong as ever; your eyes shine, and your hand is not hot! It is the blessed air; it has cured you, as it cured Felipe of the fever.”
“If the air could keep me well, I had not been ill, Majella,” replied Alessandro. ”

“ I would rather die, than not be where you are. Oh, Alessandro, take me with you!”
Alessandro was conquered. “I will take you, my most beloved Señorita,” he said gravely,—no lover's gladness in his tone, and his voice was hollow; “I will take you. Perhaps the saints will have mercy on you, even if they have forsaken me and my people!”
“Your people are my people, dearest; and the saints never forsake any one who does not forsake them. You will be glad all our lives long, Alessandro,” cried Ramona; and she laid her head on his breast in solemn silence for a moment, as if registering a vow. ”

“ The sun was up, and the canaries, finches, and linnets had made the veranda ring with joyous racket, before Felipe opened his eyes. The Señora had come and gone and come again, looking at him anxiously, but he stirred not. Ramona had stolen timidly out, glancing at Alessandro only long enough to give him one quick smile, and bent over Felipe's bed, holding her breath, he lay so still.
“Ought he to sleep so long?” she whispered.
“Till the noon, it may be,” answered Alessandro; “and when he wakes, you will see by his eye that he is another man.” ”

“ But Alessandro did not speak. It seemed impossible. At last, straining her closer to his breast, he cried: “Dearest Señorita! I feel as if I should die when I tell you,—I have no home; my father is dead; my people are driven out of their village. I am only a beggar now, Señorita; like those you used to feed and pity in Los Angeles convent!” As he spoke the last words, he reeled, and, supporting himself against the tree, added: “I am not strong, Señorita; we have been starving.”
Ramona's face did not reassure him. Even in the dusk he could see its look of incredulous horror. ”

“ Breathless, panting, Alessandro burst into Ramona's presence. “Majella! my Majella! There are cattle—and sheep,” he cried. “The saints be praised! We are not like the beggars, as I said.”
“I told you that God would give us food, dear Alessandro,” replied Ramona, gently.
“You do not wonder! You do not ask!” he cried, astonished at her calm. “Does Majella think that a sheep or a steer can come down from the skies?”
“Nay, not as our eyes would see,” she answered; “but the holy ones who live in the skies can do anything they like on the earth. ”

“ Ramona had a cloth-of-gold rose in her hand. The veranda eaves were now shaded with them, hanging down like a thick fringe of golden tassels. It was the rose Felipe loved best. Stooping, she laid it on the bed, near Felipe's head. “He will like to see it when he wakes,” she said.
The Señora seized it, and flung it far out in the room. “Take it away! Flowers are poison when one is ill,” she said coldly. “Have I never told you that?”
“No, Señora,” replied Ramona, meekly; and she glanced involuntarily at the saucer of musk which the Señora kept on the table close to Felipe's pillow. ”

“ A most unwise retort for Ramona.
“Felipe!” cried the Senora, in a shrill voice. “How dare you pronounce his name! He will none of you, from this hour! I forbid him to speak to you. Indeed, he will never desire to set eyes on you when he hears the truth.”
“You are mistaken, Senora,” answered Ramona, more gently. “Felipe is Alessandro's friend, and—mine,” she added, after a second's pause.
“So, ho! the Senorita thinks she is all-powerful in the house of Moreno!” cried the Senora. “We will see! we will see! Follow me, Senorita Ramona!” ”

“ Wasteful Alessandro! If the tule house is good, I shall not let you, Alessandro, build another.”
Ramona's mirthful moments bewildered Alessandro. To his slower temperament and saddened nature they seemed preternatural; as if she were all of a sudden changed into a bird, or some gay creature outside the pale of human life,—outside and above it.
“You speak as the birds sing, my Majella,” he said slowly. “It was well to name you Majel; only the wood-dove has not joy in her voice, as you have. She says only that she loves and waits.” ”

“ It was like a house with a high, thick roof of oak tree-tops, the shelter they found. No sun penetrated it; a tiny trickle of water still remained, and some grass along its rims was still green, spite of the long drought,—a scanty meal for Baba and Benito, but they ate it with relish in each other's company.
“They like each other, those two,” said Ramona, laughing, as she watched them. “They will be friends.”
“Ay,” said Alessandro, also smiling. “Horses are friends, like men, and can hate each other, like men, too. ”

“ I hardly know myself,” she whispered. “Life has dealt very hardly with me. I should not have known you either—Angus.” She pronounced his name hesitatingly, half appealingly. At the sound of the familiar syllables, so long unheard, the man's heart broke down. He buried his face in his hands, and sobbed out: “O Ramona, forgive me! I brought the child here, not wholly in love; partly in vengeance. But I am melted now. Are you sure you wish to keep her? I will take her away if you are not.”
“Never, so long as I live, Angus,” replied Señora Ortegna. ”

“ All unconscious, equally of Margarita's heart and her own, Ramona proceeded to Felipe's room. Felipe was sleeping, the Senora sitting by his side, as she had sat for days and nights,—her dark face looking thinner and more drawn each day; her hair looking even whiter, if that could be; and her voice growing hollow from faintness and sorrow.
“Dear Senora,” whispered Ramona, “do go out for a few moments while he sleeps, and let me watch,—just on the walk in front of the veranda. The sun is still lying there, bright and warm. You will be ill if you do not have air.” ”

“ In the Senora's presence, Ramona always felt herself alone.
Alessandro stood at the window, his arms folded, leaning on the sill, his eyes fixed on Ramona's face and form. To any other than a lover's eyes she had not looked beautiful now; but to Alessandro she looked more beautiful than the picture of Santa Barbara on the wall beyond. With a lover's instinct he knew the thoughts which had written such lines on her face in the last three days. “It will kill her if he dies,” he thought, “if these three days have made her look like that.” ”

“ That is what the Señora is ever saying: 'To the sea!' Oh, the beautiful sea! Can we behold it from San Pasquale, Alessandro?”
“No, my Majella, it is too far. San Pasquale is in the valley; it has hills all around it like walls. But it is good. Majella will love it; and I will build a house, Majella. All the people will help me. That is the way with our people. In two days it will be done. But it will be a poor place for my Majella,” he said sadly. Alessandro's heart was ill at ease. Truly a strange bride's journey was this; but Ramona felt no fear. ”

“ Tears filled Ramona's eyes. How should she win this saddened man, this distrusting lover, to the joy which was his desert? “Alessandro can do one thing,” she said, insensibly falling into his mode of speaking,—“one thing for his Majella: never, never say that he has nothing to give her. When he says that, he makes Majella a liar; for she has said that he is all the world to her,—he himself all the world which she desires. Is Majella a liar?”
But it was even now with an ecstasy only half joy, the other half anguish, that Alessandro replied: “Majella cannot lie. Majella is like the saints. ”

“ When Ramona went away with Alessandro, she would write to Father Salvierderra, simply stating the facts in her own way, and telling him that all further questions must wait for decision until they met.
And so she plotted and planned, and mapped out the future in her tireless weaving brain, till she was somewhat soothed for the partial failure of her plans.
There is nothing so skilful in its own defence as imperious pride. It has an ingenious system of its own, of reprisals,—a system so ingenious that the defeat must be sore indeed, after which it cannot still find some booty to bring off! ”

“ When she saw the group on the veranda, as she often did, all listening to Alessandro's violin, or to his singing, Alessandro himself now at his ease and free in the circle, as if he had been there always, her anger was almost beyond bounds.
“Oh, ho! like a member of the family; quite so!” she sneered. “It is new times when a head shepherd spends his time with the ladies of the house, and sits in their presence like a guest who is invited! We shall see; we shall see what comes of all this!” And she knew not which she hated the more of the two, Alessandro or Ramona. ”

“ Majella, they are dogs!”
Rarely did Alessandro speak with such vehemence; but this last outrage on his people had kindled in his veins a fire of scorn and hatred which would never die out. Trust in an American was henceforth to him impossible. The name was a synonym for fraud and cruelty.
“They cannot all be so bad, I think, Alessandro,” said Ramona. “There must be some that are honest; do you not think so?”
“Where are they, then,” he cried fiercely,—“the ones who are good? Among my people there are always some that are bad; but they are in disgrace. ”

“ Since she knew that the Senorita was half Indian, why should she think it so dreadful a thing for her to marry an Indian man? It did not once enter into Alessandro's mind, that the Senora could have had any other thought, seeing them as she did, in each other's arms. And again what had he to give to Ramona? Could she live in a house such as he must live in,—live as the Temecula women lived? No! for her sake he must leave his people; must go to some town, must do—he knew not what—something to earn more money. Anguish seized him as he pictured to himself Ramona suffering deprivations. ”

“ Before Alessandro was fairly aware what had befallen, Ramona and Margarita were disappearing from view under the garden trellis,—Ramona walking in advance, stately, silent, and Margarita following, sulky, abject in her gait, but with a raging whirlwind in her heart.
It had taken only the twinkling of an eye, but it had told Margarita the truth. Alessandro too.
“My God.” he said, “the Senorita thought me making love to that girl. May the fiends get her! The Senorita looked at me as if I were a dog. How could she think a man would look at a woman after he had once seen her! ”