Once she brushed so
near his hiding-place that he thought he was discovered, and was
on the point of speaking, but luckily held his peace, and she passed
on. Alessandro was hid behind the geranium clump at the chapel
door; sitting on the ground, with his knees drawn up to his chin,
watching Ramona's window. He intended to stay there all night.
He felt that he might be needed: if Ramona wanted him, she would
either open her window and call, or would come out and go down
through the garden-walk to the willows. In either case, he would
see her from the hiding-place he had chosen. He was racked by his
emotions; mad with joy one minute, sick at heart with misgiving
the next. Ramona loved him. She had told him so. She had said she
would go away with him and be his wife. The words had but just
passed her lips, at that dreadful moment when the Senora appeared
in their presence. As he lived the scene over again, he
re-experienced the joy and the terror equally.
What was not that terrible Senora capable of doing? Why did she
look at him and at Ramona with such loathing scorn? Since she
knew that the Senorita was half Indian, why should she think it so
dreadful a thing for her to marry an Indian man? It did not once
enter into Alessandro's mind, that the Senora could have had any
other thought, seeing them as she did, in each other's arms.
Pages:
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257