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Rh you!” in the same clear, firm whisper; and the next minute Alessandro's arms were around Ramona, and he had kissed her, sobbing rather than saying, “O Señorita, do you mean that you will go with me? that you are mine? Oh, no, beloved Señorita, you cannot mean that!” But he was kissing her. He knew she did mean it; and Ramona, whispering, “Yes, Alessandro, I do mean it; I will go with you,” clung to him with her hands, and kissed him, and repeated it, “I will go with you, I love you.” And then, just then, came the Señora's step, and her sharp cry of amazement, and there she stood, no more than an arm's-length away, looking at them with her indignant, terrible eyes.

What an hour this for Alessandro to be living over and over, as he crouched in the darkness, watching! But the bewilderment of his emotions did not dull his senses. As if stalking deer in a forest, he listened for sounds from the house. It seemed strangely still. As the darkness deepened, it seemed still stranger that no lamps were lit. Darkness in the Señora's room, in the Señorita's; a faint light in the dining-room, soon put out,—evidently no supper going on there. Only from under Felipe's door streamed a faint radiance; and creeping close to the veranda, Alessandro heard voices fitfully talking,—the Señora's and Felipe's; no word from Ramona. Piteously he fixed his eyes on her window; it was open, but the curtains tight drawn; no stir, no sound. Where was she? What had been done to his love? Only the tireless caution and infinite patience of his Indian blood kept Alessandro from going to her window. But he would imperil nothing by acting on his own responsibility. He would wait, if it were till daylight, till his love made a sign. Certainly before long Señor Felipe would come to his veranda bed, and then he could venture to speak to him. But it was