Alessandro was too much absorbed in thoughts of his people, to observe the hesitating emphasis with which Ramona asked this question.
“Yes, Señorita, I love them all. They are like my brothers and sisters, all of my father's people,” he said; “and I am unhappy about them all the time.”
During the whole of this conversation Ramona had had an undercurrent of thought going on, which was making her uneasy. The more Alessandro said about his father and his people, the more she realized that he was held to Temecula by bonds that would be hard to break, the more she feared his father would not let him remain away from home for any length of time. At the thought of his going away, her very heart sickened. Taking a sudden step towards him, she said abruptly, “Alessandro, I am afraid your father will not give his consent to your staying here.”
“So am I, Señorita,” he replied sadly.
“And you would not stay if he did not approve of it, of course,” she said.
“How could I, Señorita?”
“No,” she said, “it would not be right;” but as she said these words, the tears filled her eyes.
Alessandro saw them. The world changed in that second. “Señorita! Señorita Ramona!” he cried, “tears have come in your eyes! O Señorita, then you will not be angry if I say that I love you!” and Alessandro trembled with the terror and delight of having said the words.
Hardly did he trust his palpitating senses to be telling him true the words that followed, quick, firm, though only in a whisper,—“I know that you love me, Alessandro, and I am glad of it!” Yes, this was what the Señorita Ramona was saying! And when he stammered, “But you, Señorita, you do not—you could not—” “Yes, Alessandro, I do—I love
