" And now the
Senora waited for an answer.

"No, mother," came reluctantly from Felipe's lips. "I suppose not;
but--"

"I was sure my own son could make no other reply," interrupted the
Senora. She did not wish Felipe at present to do more than reply to
her questions. "Of course it would not be right for us to let Ramona
do anything which we would not let her do if she were really of our own
blood. That is the way I have always looked at my obligation to her. My
sister intended to rear her as her own daughter. She had given her her
own name. When my sister died, she transferred to me all her right and
responsibility in and for the child. You do not suppose that if your
aunt had lived, she would have ever given her consent to her adopted
daughter's marrying an Indian, do you?"

Again the Senora paused for a reply, and again the reluctant Felipe
said, in a low tone, "No, I suppose she would not."

"Very well. Then that lays a double obligation on us. It is not only
that we are not to permit Ramona to do a thing which we would consider
disgraceful to one of our own blood; we are not to betray the trust
reposed in us by the only person who had a right to control her, and who
transferred that trust to us. Is not that so?"

"Yes, mother," said the unhappy Felipe.

He saw the meshes closing around him. He felt that there was a flaw
somewhere in his mother's reasoning, but he could not point it out;
in fact, he could hardly make it distinct to himself. His brain was
confused. Only one thing he saw clearly, and that was, that after all
had been said and done, Ramona would still marry Alessandro. But it was
evident that it would never be with his mother's consent. "Nor with mine
either, openly, the way she puts it. I don't see how it can be; and yet
I have promised Alessandro to do all I could for him. Curse the luck,
I wish he had never set foot on the place!" said Felipe in his heart,
growing unreasonable, and tired with the perplexity.

The Senora continued: "I shall always blame myself bitterly for having
failed to see what was going on. As you say, Alessandro has been with
us a great deal since your illness, with his music, and singing, and one
thing and another; but I can truly say that I never thought of Ramona's
being in danger of looking upon him in the light of a possible lover,
any more than of her looking thus upon Juan Canito, or Luigo, or any
other of the herdsmen or laborers. I regret it more than words can