nce her first cry on hearing that terrible
laugh. She was like one stricken dumb. The shock was greater to her than
to Alessandro. He had lived with it ever present in his thoughts for a
year. She had always hoped. But far more dreadful than the loss of her
home, was the anguish of seeing, hearing, the changed face, changed
voice, of Alessandro. Almost this swallowed up the other. She obeyed
him mechanically, working faster and faster as he grew more and more
feverish in his haste. Before sundown the little house was dismantled;
everything, except the bed and the stove, packed in the big wagon.

"Now, we must cook food for the journey," said Alessandro.

"Where are we going?" said the weeping Ramona.

"Where?" ejaculated Alessandro, so scornfully that it sounded like
impatience with Ramona, and made her tears flow afresh. "Where? I know
not, Majella! Into the mountains, where the white men come not! At
sunrise we will start."

Ramona wished to say good-by to their friends. There were women in the
village that she tenderly loved. But Alessandro was unwilling. "There
will be weeping and crying, Majella; I pray you do not speak to one. Why
should we have more tears? Let us disappear. I will say all to Ysidro.
He will tell them."

This was a sore grief to Ramona. In her heart she rebelled against it,
as she had never yet rebelled against an act of Alessandro's; but she
could not distress him. Was not his burden heavy enough now?

Without a word of farewell to any one, they set off in the gray dawn,
before a creature was stirring in the village,--the wagon piled high;
Ramona, her baby in her arms, in front; Alessandro walking. The load was
heavy. Benito and Baba walked slowly. Capitan, unhappy, looking first at
Ramona's face, then at Alessandro's, walked dispiritedly by their side.
He knew all was wrong.

As Alessandro turned the horses into a faintly marked road leading in a
northeasterly direction, Ramona said with a sob, "Where does this road
lead, Alessandro?"

"To San Jacinto," he said. "San Jacinto Mountain. Do not look back,
Majella! Do not look back!" he cried, as he saw Ramona, with streaming
eyes, gazing back towards San Pasquale. "Do not look back! It is gone!
Pray to the saints now, Majella! Pray! Pray!"

XXI

THE Senora Moreno was dying. It had been a sad two years in the Moreno
house. After the first excitement following Ramona's departure had
died away, things had settled down in a surface si