From the day of that terrible chill in the
snow-storm, she had never been quite well, Ramona thought.
Before that, she was strong, always strong, always beautiful and
merry, Now her pinched little face was sad to see, and sometimes
for hours she made a feeble wailing cry without any apparent
cause. All the simple remedies that Aunt Ri had known, had failed
to touch her disease; in fact, Aunt Ri from the first had been
baffled in her own mind by the child's symptoms. Day after day
Alessandro knelt by the cradle, his hands clasped, his face set.
Hour after hour, night and day, indoors and out, he bore her in his
arms, trying to give her relief. Prayer after prayer to the Virgin, to
the saints, Ramona had said; and candles by the dozen, though
money was now scant, she had burned before the Madonna; all in
vain. At last she implored Alessandro to go to San Bernardino and
see a doctor. "Find Aunt Ri," she said; "she will go with you, with
Jos, and talk to him; she can make him understand. Tell Aunt Ri
she seems just as she did when they were here, only weaker and
thinner.
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