The graves were thick, and irregularly placed,
each mound marked by a small wooden cross. Carmena led with
the swift step of one who knew each inch of the way by heart.
More than once Ramona stumbled and nearly fell, and Baba was
impatient and restive at the strange inequalities under his feet.
When they reached the corner, Ramona saw the fresh-piled earth
of the new grave. Uttering a wailing cry, Carmena, drawing
Ramona to the edge of it, pointing down with her right hand, then
laid both hands on her heart, and gazed at Ramona piteously.
Ramona burst into weeping, and again clasping Carmena's hand,
laid it on her own breast, to show her sympathy. Carmena did not
weep. She was long past that; and she felt for the moment lifted
out of herself by the sweet, sudden sympathy of this stranger,-- this
girl like herself, yet so different, so wonderful, so beautiful,
Carmena was sure she must be. Had the saints sent her from
heaven to Alessandro? What did it mean? Carmena's bosom was
heaving with the things she longed to say and to ask; but all she
could do was to press Ramona's hand again and again, and
occasionally lay her soft cheek upon it.
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