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Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885

"Ramona"

I will come down, after breakfast, and look
at it;" and turning his back on them, he drew his mother by a firm
grasp, she could not resist, into the house.
She gazed at him in sheer, dumb wonder.
"Ay, mother," he said, "you may well look thus in wonder; I have
been no man, to let my foster-sister, I care not what blood were in
her veins, be driven to this pass! I will set out this day, and bring
her back."
"The day you do that, then, I lie in this house dead!" retorted the
Senora, at white heat. "You may rear as many Indian families as
you please under the Moreno roof, I will at least have my grave!"
In spite of her anger, grief convulsed her; and in another second
she had burst into tears, and sunk helpless and trembling into a
chair. No counterfeiting now. No pretences. The Senora Moreno's
heart broke within her, when those words passed her lips to her
adored Felipe. At the sight, Felipe flung himself on his knees
before her; he kissed the aged hands as they lay trembling in her
lap. "Mother mia," he cried, "you will break my heart if you speak
like that! Oh, why, why do you command me to do what a man
may not? I would die for you, my mother; but how can I see my
sister a homeless wanderer in the wilderness?"
"I suppose the man Alessandro has something he calls a home,"
said the Senora, regaining herself a little.


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