Part 14 (1/2)

X

IT came. And when it came, it fell out worse for Ramona than Margarita's most malicious hopes had pictured; but Margarita had no hand in it. It was the Senora herself.

Since Felipe had so far gained as to be able to be dressed, sit in his chair on the veranda, and walk about the house and garden a little, the Senora, at ease in her mind about him, had resumed her old habit of long, lonely walks on the place. It had been well said by her servants, that there was not a blade of gra.s.s on the estate that the Senora had not seen. She knew every inch of her land. She had a special purpose in walking over it now. She was carefully examining to see whether she could afford to sell to the Ortegas a piece of pasture-land which they greatly desired to buy, as it joined a pasturage tract of theirs. This bit of land lay farther from the house than the Senora realized, and it had taken more time than she thought it would, to go over it; and it was already sunset on this eventful day, when, hurrying home, she turned off from the highway into the same shortcut path in which Father Salvierderra had met Ramona in the spring. There was no difficulty now in getting through the mustard tangle. It was parched and dry, and had been trampled by cattle. The Senora walked rapidly, but it was dusky twilight when she reached the willows; so dusky that she saw nothing--and she stepped so lightly on the smooth brown path that she made no sound--until suddenly, face to face with a man and a woman standing locked in each other's arms, she halted, stepped back a pace, gave a cry of surprise, and, in the same second, recognized the faces of the two, who, stricken dumb, stood apart, each gazing into her face with terror.

Strangely enough, it was Ramona who spoke first. Terror for herself had stricken her dumb; terror for Alessandro gave her a voice.

”Senora,” she began.

”Silence! Shameful creature!” cried the Senora. ”Do not dare to speak!

Go to your room!”

Ramona did not move.

”As for you,” the Senora continued, turning to 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 a.s.sumed 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 ap.r.o.n 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sionately, ”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.