XIII
THE Senora Moreno had never before been so discomfited as in this matterof Ramona and Alessandro. It chafed her to think over her conversationwith Felipe; to recall how far the thing she finally attained was fromthe thing she had in view when she began. To have Ramona sent to theconvent, Alessandro kept as overseer of the place, and the Ortegnajewels turned into the treasury of the Church,--this was the plan shehad determined on in her own mind. Instead of this, Alessandro was notto be overseer on the place; Ramona would not go to the convent: shewould be married to Alessandro, and they would go away together; andthe Ortegna jewels,--well, that was a thing to be decided in the future;that should be left to Father Salvierderra to decide. Bold as the Senorawas, she had not quite the courage requisite to take that questionwholly into her own hands.
One thing was clear, Felipe must not be consulted in regard to them. Hehad never known of them, and need not now. Felipe was far too much insympathy with Ramona to take a just view of the situation. He would besure to have a quixotic idea of Ramona's right of ownership. It was notimpossible that Father Salvierderra might have the same feeling. If so,she must yield; but that would go harder with her than all the rest.Almost the Senora would have been ready to keep the whole thing a secretfrom the Father, if he had not been at the time of the Senora Ortegna'sdeath fully informed of all the particulars of her bequest to heradopted child. At any rate, it would be nearly a year before the Fathercame again, and in the mean time she would not risk writing about it.The treasure was as safe in Saint Catharine's keeping as it had been allthese fourteen years; it should still lie hidden there. When Ramona wentaway with Alessandro, she would write to Father Salvierderra, simplystating the facts in her own way, and telling him that all furtherquestions must wait for decision until they met.
And so she plotted and planned, and mapped out the future in hertireless weaving brain, till she was somewhat soothed for the partialfailure of her plans.
There is nothing so skilful in its own defence as imperious pride. Ithas an ingenious system of its own, of reprisals,--a system so ingeniousthat the defeat must be sore indeed, after which it cannot stillfind some booty to bring off! And even greater than this ingenuity atreprisals is its capacity for self-deception. In this regard, it outdoesvanity a thousandfold. Wounded vanity knows when it is mortally hurt;and limps off the field, piteous, all disguises thrown away. But pridecarries its banner to the last; and fast as it is driven from one fieldunfurls it in another, never admitting that there is a shade less honorin the second field than in the first, or in the third than in thesecond; and so on till death. It is impossible not to have a certainsort of admiration for this kind of pride. Cruel, those who have it, areto all who come in their way; but they are equally cruel to themselves,when pride demands the sacrifice. Such pride as this has led many aforlorn hope, on the earth, when all other motives have died out ofmen's breasts; has won many a crown, which has not been called by itstrue name.
Before the afternoon was over, the Senora had her plan, her chart ofthe future, as it were, all reconstructed; the sting of her discomfituresoothed; the placid quiet of her manner restored; her habitualoccupations also, and little ways, all resumed. She was going to do"nothing" in regard to Ramona. Only she herself knew how much thatmeant; how bitterly much! She wished she were sure that Felipe alsowould do "nothing;" but her mind still misgave her about Felipe.Unpityingly she had led him on, and entangled him in his own words,step by step, till she had brought him to the position she wished him totake. Ostensibly, his position and hers were one, their action a unit;all the same, she did not deceive herself as to his real feeling aboutthe affair. He loved Ramona. He liked Alessandro. Barring the questionof family pride, which he had hardly thought of till she suggestedit, and which he would not dwell on apart from her continuing to pressit,--barring this, he would have liked to have Alessandro marry Ramonaand remain on the place. All this would come uppermost in Felipe'smind again when he was removed from the pressure of her influence.Nevertheless, she did not intend to speak with him on the subject again,or to permit him to speak to her. Her ends would be best attainedby taking and keeping the ground that the question of theirnon-interference having been settled once for all, the painful topicshould never be renewed between them. In patient silence they must awaitRamona's action must bear whatever of disgrace and pain she chose toinflict on the family which had sheltered her from her infancy till now.
The details of the "nothing" she proposed to do, slowly arrangedthemselves in her mind. There should be no apparent change in Ramona'sposition in the house. She should come and go as freely as ever; nowatch on her movements; she should eat, sleep, rise up and sit downwith them, as before; there should be not a word, or act, that Felipe'ssympathetic sensitiveness could construe into any provocation to Ramonato run away. Nevertheless, Ramona should be made to feel, every momentof every hour, that she was in disgrace; that she was with them, but notof them; that she had chosen an alien's position, and must abide by it.How this was to be done, the Senora did not put in words to herself, butshe knew very well. If anything would bring the girl to her senses, thiswould. There might still be a hope, the Senora believed, so little didshe know Ramona's nature, or the depth of her affection for Alessandro,that she might be in this manner brought to see the enormity of theoffence she would commit if she persisted in her purpose. And if she didperceive this, confess her wrong, and give up the marriage,--the Senoragrew almost generous and tolerant in her thoughts as she contemplatedthis contingency,--if she did thus humble herself and return to herrightful allegiance to the Moreno house, the Senora would forgive her,and would do more for her than she had ever hitherto done. She wouldtake her to Los Angeles and to Monterey; would show her a little moreof the world; and it was by no means unlikely that there might thus comeabout for her a satisfactory and honorable marriage. Felipe should seethat she was not disposed to deal unfairly by Ramona in any way, ifRamona herself would behave properly.
Ramona's surprise, when the Senora entered her room just before supper,and, in her ordinary tone, asked a question about the chili which wasdrying on the veranda, was so great, that she could not avoid showing itboth in her voice and look.
The Senora recognized this immediately, but gave no sign of having doneso, continuing what she had to say about the chili, the hot sun, theturning of the grapes, etc., precisely as she would have spoken toRamona a week previous. At least, this was what Ramona at first thought;but before the sentences were finished, she had detected in the Senora'seye and tone the weapons which were to be employed against her. Theemotion of half-grateful wonder with which she had heard the first wordschanged quickly to heartsick misery before they were concluded; andshe said to herself: "That's the way she is going to break me down, shethinks! But she can't do it. I can bear anything for four days; and theminute Alessandro comes, I will go away with him." This train of thoughtin Ramona's mind was reflected in her face. The Senora saw it, andhardened herself still more. It was to be war, then. No hope ofsurrender. Very well. The girl had made her choice.
Margarita was now the most puzzled person in the household. She hadoverheard snatches of the conversation between Felipe and his mother andRamona, having let her curiosity get so far the better of her discretionas to creep to the door and listen. In fact, she narrowly escapedbeing caught, having had barely time to begin her feint of sweeping thepassage-way, when Ramona, flinging the door wide open, came out,after her final reply to the Senora, the words of which Margarita haddistinctly heard: "God will punish you."
"Holy Virgin! how dare she say that to the Senora?" ejaculatedMargarita, under her breath; and the next second Ramona rushed by, noteven seeing her. But the Senora's vigilant eyes, following Ramona,saw her; and the Senora's voice had a ring of suspicion in it, as shecalled, "How comes it you are sweeping the passage-way at this hour ofthe day, Margarita?"
It was surely the devil himself that put into Margarita's head the quicklie which she instantaneously told. "There was early breakfas
t, Senora,to be cooked for Alessandro, who was setting off in haste, and my motherwas not up, so I had it to cook."
As Margarita said this, Felipe fixed his eyes steadily upon her. Shechanged color. Felipe knew this was a lie. He had seen Margarita peeringabout among the willows while he was talking with Alessandro at thesheepfold; he had seen Alessandro halt for a moment and speak to her ashe rode past,--only for a moment; then, pricking his horse sharply, hehad galloped off down the valley road. No breakfast had Alessandro hadat Margarita's hands, or any other's, that morning. What could have beenMargarita's motive for telling this lie?
But Felipe had too many serious cares on his mind to busy himself longwith any thought of Margarita or her fibs. She had said the first thingwhich came into her head, most likely, to shelter herself from theSenora's displeasure; which was indeed very near the truth, only therewas added a spice of malice against Alessandro. A slight undercurrent ofjealous antagonism towards him had begun to grow up among the servantsof late; fostered, if not originated, by Margarita's sharp sayings as tohis being admitted to such strange intimacy with the family.
While Felipe continued ill, and was so soothed to rest by his music,there was no room for cavil. It was natural that Alessandro came andwent as a physician might. But after Felipe had recovered, why shouldthis freedom and intimacy continue? More than once there had been sullenmutterings of this kind on the north veranda, when all the laborersand servants were gathered there of an evening, Alessandro alone beingabsent from the group, and the sounds of his voice or his violin comingfrom the south veranda, where the family sat.
"It would be a good thing if we too had a bit of music now and then,"Juan Canito would grumble; "but the lad's chary enough of his bow onthis side the house."
"Ho! we're not good enough for him to play to!" Margarita would reply;"'Like master, like servant,' is a good proverb sometimes, but notalways. But there's a deal going on, on the veranda yonder, besidesfiddling!" and Margarita's lips would purse themselves up in anexpression of concentrated mystery and secret knowledge, well fitted todraw from everybody a fire of questions, none of which, however, wouldshe answer. She knew better than to slander the Senorita Ramona, or tosay a word even reflecting upon her unfavorably. Not a man or a womanthere would have borne it. They all had loved Ramona ever since she cameamong them as a toddling baby. They petted her then, and idolized hernow. Not one of them whom she had not done good offices for,--nursedthem, cheered them, remembered their birthdays and their saints'-days.To no one but her mother had Margarita unbosomed what she knew, and whatshe suspected; and old Marda, frightened at the bare pronouncing of suchwords, had terrified Margarita into the solemnest of promises never,under any circumstances whatever, to say such things to any other memberof the family. Marda did not believe them. She could not. She believedthat Margarita's jealousy had imagined all.
"And the Senora; she'd send you packing off this place in an hour,and me too, long's I've lived here, if ever she was to know of youblackening the Senorita. An Indian, too! You must be mad, Margarita!"
When Margarita, in triumph, had flown to tell her that the Senora hadjust dragged the Senorita Ramona up the garden-walk, and shoved her intoher room and locked the door, and that it was because she had caught herwith Alessandro at the washing-stones, Marda first crossed herself insheer mechanical fashion at the shock of the story, and then cuffedMargarita's ears for telling her.
"I'll take the head off your neck, if you say that aloud again!Whatever's come to the Senora! Forty years I've lived under this roof,and I never saw her lift a hand to a living creature yet. You're out ofyour senses, child!" she said, all the time gazing fearfully towards theroom.
"You'll see whether I am out of my senses or not," retorted Margarita,and ran back to the dining-room. And after the dining-room door wasshut, and the unhappy pretence of a supper had begun, old Marda hadherself crept softly to the Senorita's door and listened, and heardRamona sobbing as if her heart would break. Then she knew that whatMargarita had said must be true, and her faithful soul was in sorestraits what to think. The Senorita misdemean herself! Never! Whateverhappened, it was not that! There was some horrible mistake somewhere.Kneeling at the keyhole, she had called cautiously to Ramona, "Oh, mylamb, what is it?" But Ramona had not heard her, and the danger was toogreat of remaining; so scrambling up with difficulty from her rheumaticknees, the old woman had hobbled back to the kitchen as much in the darkas before, and, by a curiously illogical consequence, crosser than everto her daughter. All the next day she watched for herself, and couldnot but see that all appearances bore out Margarita's statements.Alessandro's sudden departure had been a tremendous corroboration of thestory. Not one of the men had had an inkling of it; Juan Canito, Luigo,both alike astonished; no word left, no message sent; only Senor Felipehad said carelessly to Juan Can, after breakfast: "You'll have to lookafter things yourself for a few days, Juan. Alessandro has gone toTemecula."
"For a few days!" exclaimed Margarita, sarcastically, when this wasrepeated to her. "That's easy said! If Alessandro Assis is seen hereagain, I'll eat my head! He's played his last tune on the south veranda,I wager you."
But when at supper-time of this same eventful day the Senora was heard,as she passed the Senorita's door, to say in her ordinary voice, "Areyou ready for supper, Ramona?" and Ramona was seen to come out and walkby the Senora's side to the dining-room; silent, to be sure,--but thenthat was no strange thing, the Senorita always was more silent in theSenora's presence,--when Marda, standing in the court-yard, feigning tobe feeding her chickens, but keeping a close eye on the passage-ways,saw this, she was relieved, and thought: "It's only a dispute there hasbeen. There will be disputes in families sometimes. It is none of ouraffair. All is settled now."
And Margarita, standing in the dining-room, when she saw them allcoming in as usual,--the Senora, Felipe, Ramona,--no change, even toher scrutinizing eye, in anybody's face, was more surprised than she hadbeen for many a day; and began to think again, as she had more thanonce since this tragedy began, that she must have dreamed much that sheremembered.
But surfaces are deceitful, and eyes see little. Considering itscomplexity, the fineness and delicacy of its mechanism, the resultsattainable by the human eye seem far from adequate to the expenditureput upon it. We have flattered ourselves by inventing proverbs ofcomparison in matter of blindness,--"blind as a bat," for instance. Itwould be safe to say that there cannot be found in the animal kingdoma bat, or any other creature, so blind in its own range of circumstanceand connection, as the greater majority of human beings are in thebosoms of their families. Tempers strain and recover, hearts break andheal, strength falters, fails, and comes near to giving way altogether,every day, without being noted by the closest lookers-on.
Before night of this second day since the trouble had burst like astorm-cloud on the peaceful Moreno household, everything had so resumedthe ordinary expression and routine, that a shrewder observer andreasoner than Margarita might well be excused for doubting if anyserious disaster could have occurred to any one. Senor Felipe saunteredabout in his usual fashion, smoking his cigarettes, or lay on his bed inthe veranda, dozing. The Senora went her usual rounds of inspection, fedher birds, spoke to every one in her usual tone, sat in her carved chairwith her hands folded, gazing out on the southern sky. Ramona busiedherself with her usual duties, dusted the chapel, put fresh flowersbefore all the Madonnas, and then sat down at her embroidery. Ramona hadbeen for a long time at work on a beautiful altar-cloth for the chapel.It was to have been a present to the Senora. It was nearly done. As sheheld up the frame in which it was stretched, and looked at the delicatetracery of the pattern, she sighed. It had been with a mingled feelingof interest and hopelessness that she had for months been at work on it,often saying to herself, "She won't care much for it, beautiful as itis, just because I did it; but Father Salvierderra will be pleased whenhe sees it."
Now, as she wove the fine threads in and out, she thought: "She willnever let it be used on the altar
. I wonder if I could any way get it toFather Salvierderra, at Santa Barbara. I would like to give it to him.I will ask Alessandro. I'm sure the Senora would never use it, and itwould be a shame to leave it here. I shall take it with me." But as shethought these things, her face was unruffled. A strange composure hadsettled on Ramona. "Only four days; only four days; I can bear anythingfor four days!" these words were coming and going in her mind likerefrains of songs which haunt one's memory and will not be still. Shesaw that Felipe looked anxiously at her, but she answered his inquiringlooks always with a gentle smile. It was evident that the Senora didnot intend that she and Felipe should have any private conversationbut that did not so much matter. After all, there was not so much to besaid. Felipe knew all. She could tell him nothing; Felipe had acted forthe best, as he thought, in sending Alessandro away till the heat of theSenora's anger should have spent itself.
After her first dismay at suddenly learning that Alessandro had gone,had passed, she had reflected that it was just as well. He would comeback prepared to take her with him. How, or where, she did not know;but she would go with no questions. Perhaps she would not even bid theSenora good-by; she wondered how that would arrange itself, and how farAlessandro would have to take her, to find a priest to marry them. Itwas a terrible thing to have to do, to go out of a home in such a way:no wedding--no wedding clothes--no friends--to go unmarried, and journeyto a priest's house, to have the ceremony performed; "but it is not myfault," said Ramona to herself; "it is hers. She drives me to do it. Ifit is wrong, the blame will be hers. Father Salvierderra would gladlycome here and marry us, if she would send for him. I wish we could go tohim, Alessandro and I; perhaps we can. I would not be afraid to ride sofar; we could do it in two days." The more Ramona thought of this, themore it appeared to her the natural thing for them to do. "He will be onour side, I know he will," she thought. "He always liked Alessandro, andhe loves me."
It was strange how little bitterness toward the Senora was in the girl'smind; how comparatively little she thought of her. Her heart was toofull of Alessandro and of their future; and it had never been Ramona'shabit to dwell on the Senora in her thoughts. As from her childhood upshe had accepted the fact of the Senora's coldness toward her, so nowshe accepted her injustice and opposition as part of the nature ofthings, and not to be altered.
During all these hours, during the coming and going of these crowdsof fears, sorrows, memories, anticipations in Ramona's heart, all thatthere was to be seen to the eye was simply a calm, quiet girl, sittingon the veranda, diligently working at her lace-frame. Even Felipe wasdeceived by her calmness, and wondered what it meant,--if it could bethat she was undergoing the change that his mother had thought possible,and designated as coming "to her senses." Even Felipe did not know thesteadfast fibre of the girl's nature; neither did he realize what a bondhad grown between her and Alessandro. In fact, he sometimes wondered ofwhat this bond had been made. He had himself seen the greater partof their intercourse with each other; nothing could have been fartherremoved from anything like love-making. There had been no crisisof incident, or marked moments of experience such as in Felipe'simaginations of love were essential to the fulness of its growth. Thisis a common mistake on the part of those who have never felt love's truebonds. Once in those chains, one perceives that they are not of the sortfull forged in a day. They are made as the great iron cables are made,on which bridges are swung across the widest water-channels,--not ofsingle huge rods, or bars, which would be stronger, perhaps, to lookat, but of myriads of the finest wires, each one by itself so fine, sofrail, it would barely hold a child's kite in the wind: by hundreds,hundreds of thousands of such, twisted, re-twisted together, are madethe mighty cables, which do not any more swerve from their place in theair, under the weight and jar of the ceaseless traffic and tread of twocities, than the solid earth swerves under the same ceaseless weight andjar. Such cables do not break.
Even Ramona herself would have found it hard to tell why she thus lovedAlessandro; how it began, or by what it grew. It had not been a suddenadoration, like his passion for her; it was, in the beginning, simplya response; but now it was as strong a love as his,--as strong, and asunchangeable. The Senora's harsh words had been like a forcing-house airto it, and the sudden knowledge of the fact of her own Indian descentseemed to her like a revelation, pointing out the path in which destinycalled her to walk. She thrilled with pleasure at the thought of the joywith which Alessandro would hear this,--the joy and the surprise. Sheimagined to herself, in hundreds of ways, the time, place, and phrase inwhich she would tell him. She could not satisfy herself as to the best;as to which would give keenest pleasure to him and to her. She wouldtell him, as soon as she saw him; it should be her first word ofgreeting. No! There would be too much of trouble and embarrassment then.She would wait till they were far away, till they were alone, in thewilderness; and then she would turn to him, and say, "Alessandro, mypeople are your people!" Or she would wait, and keep her secret untilshe had reached Temecula, and they had begun their life there, andAlessandro had been astonished to see how readily and kindly she tookto all the ways of the Indian village; and then, when he expressedsome such emotion, she would quietly say, "But I too am an Indian,Alessandro!"
Strange, sad bride's dreams these; but they made Ramona's heart beatwith happiness as she dreamed them.
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