spite
of her anger, grief convulsed her; and in another second she had
burst into tears, and sunk helpless and trembling into a chair. No
counterfeiting now. No pretences. The Senora Moreno's heart broke within
her, when those words passed her lips to her adored Felipe. At the
sight, Felipe flung himself on his knees before her; he kissed the aged
hands as they lay trembling in her lap. "Mother mia," he cried, "you
will break my heart if you speak like that! Oh, why, why do you command
me to do what a man may not? I would die for you, my mother; but how can
I see my sister a homeless wanderer in the wilderness?"

"I suppose the man Alessandro has something he calls a home," said the
Senora, regaining herself a little. "Had they no plans? Spoke she not in
her letter of what they would do?"

"Only that they would go to Father Salvierderra first," he replied.

"Ah!" The Senora reflected. At first startled, her second thought was
that this would be the best possible thing which could happen. "Father
Salvierderra will counsel them what to do," she said. "He could no doubt
establish them in Santa Barbara in some way. My son, when you reflect,
you will see the impossibility of bringing them here. Help them in any
way you like, but do not bring them here." She paused. "Not until I am
dead, Felipe! It will not be long."

Felipe bowed his head in his mother's lap. She laid her hands on his
hair, and stroked it with passionate tenderness. "My Felipe!" she said.
"It was a cruel fate to rob me of you at the last!"

"Mother! mother!" he cried in anguish. "I am yours,--wholly, devotedly
yours! Why do you torture me thus?"

"I will not torture you more," she said wearily, in a feeble tone. "I
ask only one thing of you; let me never hear again the name of that
wretched girl, who has brought all this woe on our house; let her name
never be spoken on this place by man, woman, or child. Like a thief in
the night! Ay, a horse-thief!"

Felipe sprang to his feet.

"Mother." he said, "Baba was Ramona's own; I myself gave him to her as
soon as he was born!"

The Senora made no reply. She had fainted. Calling the maids, in terror
and sorrow Felipe bore her to her bed, and she did not leave it for many
days. She seemed hovering between life and death. Felipe watched over
her as a lover might; her great mournful eyes followed his every motion.
She spoke little, partly because of physical weakness, partly from
despair. The Senora had go