ore than twice what she has now, Alessandro."

"Yes," he replied; "I know it. My father has told me. He was with Father
Peyri at the place, when General Moreno was alive. Then all was his to
the sea,--all that land we rode over the second night, Majella."

"Yes," she said, "all to the sea! That is what the Senora is ever
saying: 'To the sea!' Oh, the beautiful sea! Can we behold it from San
Pasquale, Alessandro?"

"No, my Majella, it is too far. San Pasquale is in the valley; it has
hills all around it like walls. But it is good. Majella will love it;
and I will build a house, Majella. All the people will help me. That is
the way with our people. In two days it will be done. But it will be a
poor place for my Majella," he said sadly. Alessandro's heart was ill at
ease. Truly a strange bride's journey was this; but Ramona felt no fear.

"No place can be so poor that I do not choose it, if you are there,
rather than the most beautiful place in the world where you are not,
Alessandro," she said.

"But my Majella loves things that are beautiful," said Alessandro. "She
has lived like a queen."

"Oh, Alessandro," merrily laughed Ramona, "how little you know of
the way queens live! Nothing was fine at the Senora Moreno's, only
comfortable; and any house you will build, I can make as comfortable
as that was; it is nothing but trouble to have one so large as the
Senora's. Margarita used to be tired to death, sweeping all those
rooms in which nobody lived except the blessed old San Luis Rey saints.
Alessandro, if we could have had just one statue, either Saint Francis
or the Madonna, to bring back to our house! That is what I would like
better than all other things in the world. It is beautiful to sleep with
the Madonna close to your bed. She speaks often to you in dreams."

Alessandro fixed serious, questioning eyes on Ramona as she uttered
these words. When she spoke like this, he felt indeed as if a being of
some other sphere had come to dwell by his side. "I cannot find how to
feel towards the saints as you do, my Majella," he said. "I am afraid of
them. It must be because they love you, and do not love us. That is what
I believe, Majella. I believe they are displeased with us, and no longer
make mention of us in heaven. That is what the Fathers taught that the
saints were ever doing,--praying to God for us, and to the Virgin and
Jesus. It is not possible, you see, that they could have been praying
for us, and yet such