You must not climb so fast; it is foolish to tire one's self so."
In these days Ramona began to think earnestly of Felipe. She
believed Alessandro might be cured. A wise doctor could surely do
something for him. If Felipe knew what sore straits she was in,
Felipe would help her. But how could she reach Felipe without the
Senora's knowing it? And, still more, how could she send a letter
to Felipe without Alessandro's knowing what she had written?
Ramona was as helpless in her freedom on this mountain eyrie as
if she had been chained hand and foot.
And so the winter wore away, and the spring. What wheat grew in
their fields in this upper air! Wild oats, too, in every nook and
corner. The goats frisked and fattened, and their hair grew long
and silky; the sheep were already heavy again with wool, and it
was not yet midsummer. The spring rains had been good; the
stream was full, and flowers grew along its edges thick as in beds.
The baby had thrived; as placid, laughing a little thing as if its
mother had never known sorrow. "One would think she had
suckled pain," thought Ramona, "so constantly have I grieved this
year; but the Virgin has kept her well.
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