“Oh, yes!” replied Ramona, with instant eagerness. “It was not that at all. I like him very much;” But then she stopped.
“Well, what is it, then? Have you heard anything on the place about his staying?”
“Oh, no, no; not a word!” said Ramona. “Everybody understands that he is here only till Juan Can gets well. But you said you did not believe you could offer him money enough to tempt him to stay.”
“Well,” said Felipe, inquiringly, “I do not. Do you?”
“I think he would like to stay,” said Ramona, hesitatingly. “That was what I was going to say.”
“What makes you think so?” asked Felipe.
“I don't know,” Ramona said, still more hesitatingly. Now that she had said it, she was sorry. Felipe looked curiously at her. Hesitancy like this, doubts, uncertainty as to her impressions, were not characteristic of Ramona. A flitting something which was far from being suspicion or jealousy, and yet was of kin to them both, went through Felipe's mind,—went through so swiftly that he was scarce conscious of it; if he had been, he would have scorned himself. Jealous of an Indian sheep-shearers Impossible! Nevertheless, the flitting something left a trace, and prevented Felipe from forgetting the trivial incident; and after this, it was certain that Felipe would observe Ramona more closely than he had done; would weigh her words and actions; and if she should seem by a shade altered in either, would watch still more closely. Meshes were closing around Ramona. Three watchers of her every look and act,—Alessandro in pure love, Margarita in jealous hate, Felipe in love and perplexity. Only the Señora observed her not. If she had, matters might have turned out very differently, for the Señora was clear-sighted, rarely mistaken in her reading of people's motives, never long
