re, and she feared them. After a short talk with her,
Alessandro returned, leading her along. Bringing her to Ramona's side,
he laid her feverish hand in Ramona's, and said: "Majella, I have told
her all. She cannot speak a word of Spanish, but she is very glad, she
says, that you have come with me, and she will stay close by your side
till I come back."

Ramona's tender heart ached with desire to comfort the girl; but all
she could do was to press her hand in silence. Even in the darkness she
could see the hollow, mournful eyes and the wasted cheek. Words are less
needful to sorrow than to joy. Carmena felt in every fibre how Ramona
was pitying her. Presently she made a gentle motion, as if to draw her
from the saddle. Ramona bent down and looked inquiringly into her face.
Again she drew her gently with one hand, and with the other pointed to
the corner from which she had come. Ramona understood. "She wants to
show me her husband's grave," she thought. "She does not like to be away
from it. I will go with her."

Dismounting, and taking Baba's bridle over her arm, she bowed her head
assentingly, and still keeping firm hold of Carmena's hand, followed
her. The graves were thick, and irregularly placed, each mound marked
by a small wooden cross. Carmena led with the swift step of one who knew
each inch of the way by heart. More than once Ramona stumbled and nearly
fell, and Baba was impatient and restive at the strange inequalities
under his feet. When they reached the corner, Ramona saw the fresh-piled
earth of the new grave. Uttering a wailing cry, Carmena, drawing Ramona
to the edge of it, pointing down with her right hand, then laid both
hands on her heart, and gazed at Ramona piteously. Ramona burst into
weeping, and again clasping Carmena's hand, laid it on her own breast,
to show her sympathy. Carmena did not weep. She was long past that;
and she felt for the moment lifted out of herself by the sweet, sudden
sympathy of this stranger,--this girl like herself, yet so different,
so wonderful, so beautiful, Carmena was sure she must be. Had the saints
sent her from heaven to Alessandro? What did it mean? Carmena's bosom
was heaving with the things she longed to say and to ask; but all she
could do was to press Ramona's hand again and again, and occasionally
lay her soft cheek upon it.

"Now, was it not the saints that put it into my head to come to the
graveyard?" thought Ramona. "What a comfort to this poor heart-b