"You have been very good to
do so much for a girl you did not love. Thank you for the bread
and milk last night. Perhaps I can go away with Alessandro to-day.
I do not know what he will wish. We had only just that minute
spoken of being married, when you found us last night."
The Senora's face was a study during the few moments that it took
to say these words. She was dumb with amazement.
Instantaneously, on the first sense of relief that the disgrace had
not been what she supposed, followed a new wrath, if possible
hotter than the first; not so much scorn, but a bitterer anger.
"Marry! Marry that Indian!" she cried, as soon as she found voice.
"You marry an Indian? Never! Are you mad? I will never permit
it."
Ramona looked anxiously at her. "I have never disobeyed you,
Senora," she said, "but this is different from all other things; you
are not my mother. I have promised to marry Alessandro."
The girl's gentleness deceived the Senora.
"No," she said icily, "I am not your mother; but I stand in a
mother's place to you. You were my sister's adopted child, and she
gave you to me.
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