As she crossed the threshold, Felipe turned an anguished face
toward her, and said, "Come, speak to her." He was on his knees
by a wretched pallet on the floor. Was that Ramona,-- that
prostrate form; hair dishevelled, eyes glittering, cheeks scarlet,
hands playing meaninglessly, like the hands of one crazed, with a
rosary of gold beads? Yes, it was Ramona; and it was like this she
had lain there now ten days; and the people had exhausted all their
simple skill for her in vain.
Aunt Ri burst into tears. "Oh, Lawd!" she said. "Ef I had some 'old
man' hyar, I'd bring her aout er thet fever! I dew bleeve I seed some
on 't growin' not more'n er mile back." And without a second look,
or another word, she ran out of the door, and springing into the
carriage, said, speaking faster than she had been heard to speak for
thirty years: "Yeow jest turn raound 'n' drive me back a piece, the
way we come. I allow I'll git a weed thet'll break thet fever. Faster,
faster! Run yer hosses. 'Tain't above er mile back, whar I seed it,"
she cried, leaning out, eagerly scrutinizing each inch of the barren
ground.
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