ode up and down again, plucking at his beard. "What are
you going to do?" he said. "Where have you all gone? There were two
hundred in your village the last time I was there."

"Some have gone over into Pachanga," replied Alessandro, "some to San
Pasquale, and the rest to San Bernardino."

"Body of Jesus! man! But you take it with philosophy!" stormed Father
Gaspara.

Alessandro did not understand the word "philosophy," but he knew what
the Father meant. "Yes, Father," he said doggedly. "It is now twenty-one
days ago. I was not so at first. There is nothing to be done."

Ramona held tight to Alessandro's hand. She was afraid of this fierce,
black-bearded priest, who dashed back and forth, pouring out angry
invectives.

"The United States Government will suffer for it!" he continued. "It is
a Government of thieves and robbers! God will punish them. You will see;
they will be visited with a curse,--a curse in their borders; their sons
and their daughters shall be desolate! But why do I prate in these vain
words? My son, tell me your names again;" and he seated himself once
more at the table where the ancient marriage-record lay open.

After writing Alessandro's name, he turned to Ramona. "And the woman's?"
he said.

Alessandro looked at Ramona. In the chapel he had said simply,
"Majella." What name should he give more?

Without a second's hesitation, Ramona answered, "Majella. Majella Phail
is my name."

She pronounced the word "Phail," slowly. It was new to her. She had
never seen it written; as it lingered on her lips, the Father, to
whom also it was a new word, misunderstood it, took it to be in two
syllables, and so wrote it.

The last step was taken in the disappearance of Ramona. How should any
one, searching in after years, find any trace of Ramona Ortegna, in the
woman married under the name of "Majella Fayeel"?

"No, no! Put up your money, son," said Father Gaspara, as Alessandro
began to undo the knots of the handkerchief in which his gold was tied.
"Put up your money. I'll take no money from a Temecula Indian. I would
the Church had money to give you. Where are you going now?"

"To San Pasquale, Father."

"Ah! San Pasquale! The head man there has the old pueblo paper," said
Father Gaspara. "He was showing it to me the other day. That will, it
may be, save you there. But do not trust to it, son. Buy yourself a
piece of land as the white man buys his. Trust to nothing."

Alessandro looked anxiou