was your mother?" she exclaimed, scornfully, "There was no need to
write that down. Your mother was an Indian. Everybody knew that!"

At the word "Indian," Ramona gave a low cry.

The Senora misunderstood it. "Ay," she said, "a low, common Indian. I
told my sister, when she took you, the Indian blood in your veins would
show some day; and now it has come true."

Ramona's cheeks were scarlet. Her eyes flashed. "Yes, Senora Moreno,"
she said, springing to her feet; "the Indian blood in my veins shows
to-day. I understand many things I never understood before. Was it
because I was an Indian that you have always hated me?"

"You are not an Indian, and I have never hated you," interrupted the
Senora.

Ramona heeded her not, but went on, more and more impetuously. "And if
I am an Indian, why do you object to my marrying Alessandro? Oh, I am
glad I am an Indian! I am of his people. He will be glad!" The words
poured like a torrent out of her lips. In her excitement she came closer
and closer to the Senora. "You are a cruel woman," she said. "I did not
know it before; but now I do. If you knew I was an Indian, you had no
reason to treat me so shamefully as you did last night, when you saw me
with Alessandro. You have always hated me. Is my mother alive'? Where
does she live? Tell me; and I will go to her to-day. Tell me! She will
be glad that Alessandro loves me!"

It was a cruel look, indeed, and a crueller tone, with which the Senora
answered: "I have not the least idea who your mother was, or if she is
still alive, Nobody ever knew anything about her,--some low, vicious
creature, that your father married when he was out of his senses, as you
are now, when you talk of marrying Alessandro!"

"He married her, then?" asked Ramona, with emphasis. "How know you that,
Senora Moreno?"

"He told my sister so," replied the Senora, reluctantly. She grudged the
girl even this much of consolation.

"What was his name?" asked Ramona.

"Phail; Angus Phail," the Senora replied almost mechanically. She found
herself strangely constrained by Ramona's imperious earnestness, and she
chafed under it. The tables were being turned on her, she hardly knew
how. Ramona seemed to tower in stature, and to have the bearing of
the one in authority, as she stood before her pouring out passionate
question after question. The Senora turned to the larger box, and opened
it. With unsteady hands she lifted out the garments which for so many
years