Part 12 (2/2)

”Alessandro,” said Felipe, ”my mother has been speaking to me about your remaining with us permanently. Juan Can is now very old, and after this accident will go on crutches the rest of his days, poor soul! We are in great need of some man who understands sheep, and the care of the place generally.”

As he spoke, he watched Alessandro's face closely. Swift changing expressions pa.s.sed over it. Surprise predominated. Felipe misunderstood the surprise. ”I knew you would be surprised,” he said. ”I told my mother that you would not think of it; that you had stayed now only because we were in trouble.”

Alessandro bowed his head gratefully. This recognition from Felipe gave him pleasure.

”Yes, Senor,” he said, ”that was it. I told Father Salvierderra it was not for the wages. But my father and I have need of all the money we can earn. Our people are very poor, Senor. I do not know whether my father would think I ought to take the place you offer me, or not, Senor. It would be as he said. I will ask him.”

”Then you would be willing to take it?” asked Felipe.

”Yes, Senor, if my father wished me to take it,” replied Alessandro, looking steadily and gravely at Felipe; adding, after a second's pause, ”if you are sure that you desire it, Senor Felipe, it would be a pleasure to me to be of help to you.”

And yet it was only a few moments ago that Alessandro had been turning over in his mind the possibility of leaving the Senora Moreno's service immediately. This change had not been a caprice, not been an impulse of pa.s.sionate desire to remain near Ramona; it had come from a sudden consciousness that the Senor Felipe would be his friend. And Alessandro was not mistaken.

IX

WHEN the Senora came back to the veranda, she found Felipe asleep, Alessandro standing at the foot of the bed, with his arms crossed on his breast, watching him. As the Senora drew near, Alessandro felt again the same sense of dawning hatred which had seized him at her harsh speech to Ramona. He lowered his eyes, and waited to be dismissed.

”You can go now, Alessandro,” said the Senora. ”I will sit here. You are quite sure that it will be safe for Senor Felipe to sleep here all night?”

”It will cure him before many nights,” replied Alessandro, still without raising his eyes, and turning to go.

”Stay,” said the Senora. Alessandro paused. ”It will not do for him to be alone here in the night, Alessandro.”

Alessandro had thought of this, and had remembered that if he lay on the veranda floor by Senor Felipe's side, he would also lie under the Senorita's window.

”No, Senora,” he replied. ”I will lie here by his side. That was what I had thought, if the Senora is willing.”

”Thank you, Alessandro,” said the Senora, in a tone which would have surprised poor Ramona, still sitting alone in her room, with sad eyes.

She did not know the Senora could speak thus sweetly to any one but Felipe. ”Thank you! You are kind. I will have a bed made for you.”

”Oh, no.” cried Alessandro; ”if the Senora will excuse me, I could not lie on a bed. A raw-hide like Senor Felipe's, and my blanket, are all I want. I could not lie on any bed.”

”To be sure,” thought the Senora; ”what was I thinking of! How the boy makes one forget he is an Indian! But the floor is harder than the ground, Alessandro,” she said kindly.

”No, Senora,” he said, ”it is all one; and to-night I will not sleep.

I will watch Senor Felipe, in case there should be a wind, or he should wake and need something.”

”I will watch him myself till midnight,” said the Senora. ”I should feel easier to see how he sleeps at first.”

It was the balmiest of summer nights, and as still as if no living thing were on the earth. There was a full moon, which shone on the garden, and on the white front of the little chapel among the trees. Ramona, from her window, saw Alessandro pacing up and down the walk. She had seen him spread down the raw-hide by Felipe's bed, and had seen the Senora take her place in one of the big carved chairs. She wondered if they were both going to watch; she wondered why the Senora would never let her sit up and watch with Felipe.

”I am not of any use to anybody,” she thought sadly. She dared not go out and ask any questions about the arrangements for the night. At supper the Senora had spoken to her only in the same cold and distant manner which always made her dumb and afraid. She had not once seen Felipe alone during the day. Margarita, who, in the former times,--ah, how far away those former times looked now!--had been a greater comfort to Ramona than she realized,--Margarita now was sulky and silent, never came into Ramona's presence if she could help it, and looked at her sometimes with an expression which made Ramona tremble, and say to herself, ”She hates me; She has always hated me since that morning.”

It had been a long, sad day to Ramona; and as she sat in her window leaning her head against the sash, and looked at Alessandro pacing up and down, she felt for the first time, and did not shrink from it nor in any wise disavow or disguise it to herself, that she was glad he loved her. More than this she did not think; beyond this she did not go.

Her mind was not like Margarita's, full of fancies bred of freedom in intercourse with men. But distinctly, tenderly glad that Alessandro loved her, and distinctly, tenderly aware how well he loved her, she was, as she sat at her window this night, looking out into the moonlit garden; after she had gone to bed, she could still hear his slow, regular steps on the garden-walk, and the last thought she had, as she fell asleep, was that she was glad Alessandro loved her.

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