No one would have known, from Ramona's face, manner, or
habitual conduct, that she had ever experienced a sorrow or had a
care. Her face was sunny, she had a joyous voice, and never was
seen to pass a human being without a cheerful greeting, to highest
and lowest the same. Her industry was tireless. She had had two
years at school, in the Convent of the Sacred Heart at Los Angeles,
where the Senora had placed her at much personal sacrifice, during
one of the hardest times the Moreno estate had ever seen. Here she
had won the affection of all the Sisters, who spoke of her
habitually as the "blessed child." They had taught her all the dainty
arts of lace-weaving, embroidery, and simple fashions of painting
and drawing, which they knew; not overmuch learning out of
books, but enough to make her a passionate lover of verse and
romance. For serious study or for deep thought she had no
vocation. She was a simple, joyous, gentle, clinging, faithful
nature, like a clear brook rippling along in the sun,-- a nature as
unlike as possible to the Senora's, with its mysterious depths and
stormy, hidden currents.
Pages:
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89