Ramona had much to tell that
Alessandro had said,--tales of the old Mission days that he had heard
from his father; stories of saints, and of the early Fathers, who were
more like saints than like men, Alessandro said,--Father Junipero, who
founded the first Missions, and Father Crespi, his friend. Alessandro's
grandfather had journeyed with Father Crespi as his servant, and many a
miracle he had with his own eyes seen Father Crespi perform. There was a
cup out of which the Father always took his chocolate for breakfast,--a
beautiful cup, which was carried in a box, the only luxury the Father
had; and one morning it was broken, and everybody was in terror and
despair. "Never mind, never mind," said the Father; "I will make it
whole;" and taking the two pieces in his hands, he held them tight
together, and prayed over them, and they became one solid piece again,
and it was used all through the journey, just as before.

But now, Ramona never spoke voluntarily of Alessandro. To Felipe's
sometimes artfully put questions or allusions to him, she made brief
replies, and never continued the topic; and Felipe had observed another
thing: she now rarely looked at Alessandro. When he was speaking to
others she kept her eyes on the ground. If he addressed her, she
looked quickly up at him, but lowered her eyes after the first glance.
Alessandro also observed this, and was glad of it. He understood it. He
knew how differently she could look in his face in the rare moments when
they were alone together. He fondly thought he alone knew this; but he
was mistaken. Margarita knew. She had more than once seen it.

It had happened more than once that he had found Ramona at the willows
by the brook, and had talked with her there. The first time it happened,
it was a chance; after that never a chance again, for Alessandro went
often seeking the spot, hoping to find her. In Ramona's mind too, not
avowed, but half consciously, there was, if not the hope of seeing him
there, at least the memory that it was there they had met. It was a
pleasant spot,--cool and shady even at noon, and the running water
always full of music. Ramona often knelt there of a morning, washing out
a bit of lace or a handkerchief; and when Alessandro saw her, it went
hard with him to stay away. At such moments the vision returned to him
vividly of that first night when, for the first second, seeing her face
in the sunset glow, he had thought her scarce mortal. It was not