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Rh Ramona looked anxiously at her. “I have never disobeyed you, Señora,” she said, “but this is different from all other things; you are not my mother. I have promised to marry Alessandro.”

The girl's gentleness deceived the Señora.

“No,” she said icily, “I am not your mother; but I stand in a mother's place to you. You were my sister's adopted child, and she gave you to me. You cannot marry without my permission, and I forbid you ever to speak again of marrying this Indian.”

The moment had come for the Señora Moreno to find out, to her surprise and cost, of what stuff this girl was made,—this girl, who had for fourteen years lived by her side, docile, gentle, sunny, and uncomplaining in her loneliness. Springing to her feet, and walking swiftly till she stood close face to face with the Señora, who, herself startled by the girl's swift motion, had also risen to her feet, Ramona said, in a louder, firmer voice: “Señora Moreno, you may forbid me as much as you please. The whole world cannot keep me from marrying Alessandro. I love him. I have promised, and I shall keep my word.” And with her young lithe arms straight down at her sides, her head thrown back, Ramona flashed full in the Señora's face a look of proud defiance. It was the first free moment her soul had ever known. She felt herself buoyed up as by wings in air. Her old terror of the Señora fell from her like a garment thrown off.

“Pshaw!” said the Señora, contemptuously, half amused, in spite of her wrath, by the girl's, as she thought, bootless vehemence, “you talk like a fool. Do you not know that I can shut you up in the nunnery to-morrow, if I choose?”

“No, you cannot!” replied Ramona.

“Who, then, is to hinder me.” said the Señora, insolently.

“Alessandro!” answered Ramona, proudly.