She met his eyes, and,
without knowing why, thought, "That must be the Indian who
sang." As she turned to the right and entered the chapel,
Alessandro followed her hurriedly, and knelt on the stones close to
the chapel door. He would be near when she came out. As he
looked in at the door, he saw her glide up the aisle, place the ferns
on the reading-desk, and then kneel down by Felipe in front of the
altar. Felipe turned towards her, smiling slightly, with a look as of
secret intelligence.
"Ah, Senor Felipe has married. She is his wife," thought
Alessandro, and a strange pain seized him. He did not analyze it;
hardly knew what it meant. He was only twenty-one. He had not
thought much about women. He was a distant, cold boy, his own
people of the Temecula village said. It had come, they believed, of
learning to read, which was always bad. Chief Pablo had not done
his son any good by trying to make him like white men. If the
Fathers could have stayed, and the life at the Mission have gone
on, why, Alessandro could have had work to do for the Fathers, as
his father had before him.
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