cula?"

"No, Senor."

"A woman told me he went to Monterey. I have been there looking for
him."

"I heard, too, he had gone to Monterey."

"Where did you see him last?"

"In Temecula."

"Was he alone?"

"Yes, Senor."

"Did you ever hear of his being married?"

"No, Senor."

"Where are the greater part of the Temecula people now?"

"Like this, Senor," with a bitter gesture, pointing to his wife. "Most
of us are beggars. A few here, a few there. Some have gone to Capitan
Grande, some way down into Lower California."

Wearily Felipe continued his bootless questioning. No suspicion that the
man was deceiving him crossed his mind. At last, with a sigh, he
said, "I hoped to have found Alessandro by your means. I am greatly
disappointed.

"I doubt not that, Senor Felipe Moreno," thought Antonio. "I am sorry,
Senor," he said.

It smote his conscience when Felipe laid in his hand a generous
gold-piece, and said, "Here is a bit of money for you. I am sorry to see
you so poorly off."

The thanks which he spoke sounded hesitating and gruff, so remorseful
did he feel. Senor Felipe had always been kind to them. How well they
had fared always in his house! It was a shame to lie to him; yet the
first duty was to Alessandro. It could not be avoided. And thus a second
time help drifted away from Ramona.

At Temecula, from Mrs. Hartsel, Felipe got the first true intelligence
of Alessandro's movements; but at first it only confirmed his worst
forebodings. Alessandro had been at Mrs. Hartsel's house; he had been
alone, and on foot; he was going to walk all the way to San Pasquale,
where he had the promise of work.

How sure the kindly woman was that she was telling the exact truth.
After long ransacking of her memory and comparing of events, she fixed
the time so nearly to the true date, that it was to Felipe's mind a
terrible corroboration of his fears. It was, he thought, about a week
after Ramona's flight from home that Alessandro had appeared thus,
alone, on foot, at Mrs. Hartsel's. In great destitution, she said; and
she had lent him money on the expectation of selling his violin; but
they had never sold it; there it was yet. And that Alessandro was dead,
she had no more doubt than that she herself was alive; for else, he
would have come back to pay her what he owed. The honestest fellow that
ever lived, was Alessandro. Did not the Senor Moreno think so? Had he
not found him so always? There were not many such