t her death-blow. She would die hard. It would
take long. Yet she was dying, and she knew it.

Felipe did not know it. When he saw her going about again, with a step
only a little slower than before, and with a countenance not so much
changed as he had feared, he thought she would be well again, after a
time. And now he would go in search of Ramona. How he hoped he should
find them in Santa Barbara! He must leave them there, or wherever he
should find them; never again would he for a moment contemplate the
possibility of bringing them home with him. But he would see them; help
them, if need be. Ramona should not feel herself an outcast, so long as
he lived.

When he said, agitatedly, to his mother, one night, "You are so
strong now, mother, I think I will take a journey; I will not be away
long,--not over a week," she understood, and with a deep sigh replied:
"I am not strong; but I am as strong as I shall ever be. If the journey
must be taken, it is as well done now."

How was the Senora changed!

"It must be, mother," said Felipe, "or I would not leave you. I will set
off before sunrise, so I will say farewell tonight."

But in the morning, at his first step, his mother's window opened, and
there she stood, wan, speechless, looking at him. "You must go, my son?"
she asked at last.

"I must, mother!" and Felipe threw his arms around her, and kissed her
again and again. "Dearest mother! Do smile! Can you not?"

"No, my son, I cannot. Farewell. The saints keep you. Farewell." And she
turned, that she might not see him go.

Felipe rode away with a sad heart, but his purpose did not falter.
Following straight down the river road to the sea, he then kept up along
the coast, asking here and there, cautiously, if persons answering to
the description of Alessandro and Ramona had been seen. No one had seen
any such persons.

When, on the night of the second day, he rode up to the Santa Barbara
Mission, the first figure he saw was the venerable Father Salvierderra
sitting in the corridor. As Felipe approached, the old man's face beamed
with pleasure, and he came forward totteringly, leaning on a staff in
each hand. "Welcome, my son!" he said. "Are all well? You find me very
feeble just now; my legs are failing me sorely this autumn."

Dismay seized on Felipe at the Father's first words. He would not have
spoken thus, had he seen Ramona. Barely replying to the greeting, Felipe
exclaimed: "Father, I come seeking Ramona