As they came out of the chapel, Father Gaspara leading the way,
the Irish couple shambling along shamefacedly apart from each
other, Alessandro, still holding Ramona's hand in his, said, "Will
you ride, dear? It is but a step."
"No, thanks, dear Alessandro, I would rather walk," she replied;
and Alessandro slipping the bridles of the two horses over his left
arm, they walked on. Father Gaspara heard the question and
answer, and was still more puzzled.
"He speaks as a gentleman speaks to a lady," he mused. "What
does it mean? Who are they?"
Father Gaspara was a well-born man, and in his home in Spain had
been used to associations far superior to any which he had known
in his Californian life, A gentle courtesy of tone and speech, such
as that with which Alessandro had addressed Ramona, was not
often heard in his parish. When they entered his house, he again
regarded them both attentively. Ramona wore on her head the
usual black shawl of the Mexican women. There was nothing
distinctive, to the Father's eye, in her figure or face. In the dim
light of the one candle,-- Father Gaspara allowed himself no
luxuries,-- the exquisite coloring of her skin and the deep blue of
her eyes were not to be seen.
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