Like
a thief in the night! Ay, a horse-thief!"
Felipe sprang to his feet.
"Mother." he said, "Baba was Ramona's own; I myself gave him to
her as soon as he was born!"
The Senora made no reply. She had fainted. Calling the maids, in
terror and sorrow Felipe bore her to her bed, and she did not leave
it for many days. She seemed hovering between life and death.
Felipe watched over her as a lover might; her great mournful eyes
followed his every motion. She spoke little, partly because of
physical weakness, partly from despair. The Senora had got her
death-blow. She would die hard. It would take long. Yet she was
dying, and she knew it.
Felipe did not know it. When he saw her going about again, with a
step only a little slower than before, and with a countenance not so
much changed as he had feared, he thought she would be well
again, after a time. And now he would go in search of Ramona.
How he hoped he should find them in Santa Barbara! He must
leave them there, or wherever he should find them; never again
would he for a moment contemplate the possibility of bringing
them home with him.
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