I mean, the Senora will
wish never to hear of me. Felipe will be sorry. Felipe is very good,
Alessandro."
They were all ready now,-- Ramona on Baba, the two packed nets
swinging from her saddle, one on either side. Alessandro, walking,
led his tired pony. It was a sad sort of procession for one going to
be wed, but Ramona's heart was full of joy.
"I don't know why it is, Alessandro," she said; "I should think I
would be afraid, but I have not the least fear,-- not the least; not of
anything that can come, Alessandro," she reiterated with emphasis.
"Is it not strange?"
"Yes, Senorita," he replied solemnly, laying his hand on hers as he
walked close at her side. "It is strange. I am afraid,-- afraid for you,
my Senorita! But it is done, and we will not go back; and perhaps
the saints will help you, and will let me take care of you. They
must love you, Senorita; but they do not love me, nor my people."
"Are you never going to call me by my name?" asked Ramona. "I
hate your calling me Senorita. That was what the Senora always
called me when she was displeased.
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