now; so he ordered him to go away, and Alessandro obeyed.”
Like a wounded creature at bay, Ramona turned suddenly away from Felipe, and facing the Señora, her eyes resolute and dauntless spite of the streaming tears, exclaimed, lifting her right hand as she spoke, “You have been cruel; God will punish you!” and without waiting to see what effect her words had produced, without looking again at Felipe, she walked swiftly out of the room.
“You see,” said the Señora, “you see she defies us.”
“She is desperate,” said Felipe. “I am sorry I sent Alessandro away.”
“No, my son,” replied the Señora, “you were wise, as you always are. It may bring her to her senses, to have a few days' reflection in solitude.”
“You do not mean to keep her locked up, mother, do you?” cried Felipe.
The Señora turned a look of apparently undisguised amazement on him. “You would not think that best, would you? Did you not say that all we could do, was simply not to interfere with her in any way? To wash our hands, so far as is possible, of all responsibility about her?”
“Yes, yes,” said the baffled Felipe; “that was what I said. But, mother—” He stopped. He did not know what he wanted to say.
The Señora looked tenderly at him, her face full of anxious inquiry.
“What is it, Felipe dear? Is there anything more you think I ought to say or do?” she asked.
“What is it you are going to do, mother?” said Felipe. “I don't seem to understand what you are going to do.”
“Nothing, Felipe! You have entirely convinced me that all effort would be thrown away. I shall do nothing,” replied the Señora. “Nothing whatever.”
