Part 41

Alessandro laughed aloud. Ramona had not more than two or three times heard him do this. It frightened her. “Why do you laugh, Alessandro?” she said.

“To think what I have to show you, my Senorita,” he said. “Look here;” and turning towards the willows, he gave two or three low whistles, at the first note of which Baba came trotting out of the copse to the end of his lariat, and began to snort and whinny with delight as soon as he perceived Ramona.

Ramona burst into tears. The surprise was too great.

“Are you not glad, Senorita?” cried Alessandro, aghast. “Is it not your own horse? If you do not wish to take him, I will lead him back. My pony can carry you, if we journey very slowly. But I thought it would be joy to you to have Baba.”

“Oh, it is! it is!” sobbed Ramona, with her head on Baba's neck. “It is a miracle,--a miracle. How did he come here? And, the saddle too!” she cried, for the first time observing that. “Alessandro,” in an awe-struck whisper, “did the saints send him? Did you find him here?” It would have seemed to Ramona's faith no strange thing, had this been so.

“I think the saints helped me to bring him,” answered Alessandro, seriously, “or else I had not done it so easily. I did but call, near the corral-fence, and he came to my hand, and leaped over the rails at my word, as quickly as Capitan might have done. He is yours, Senorita. It is no harm to take him?”

“Oh, no!” answered Ramona. “He is more mine than anything else I had; for it was Felipe gave him to me when he could but just stand on his legs; he was only two days old; and I have fed him out of my hand every day till now; and now he is five. Dear Baba, we will never be parted, never!” and she took his head in both her hands, and laid her cheek against it lovingly.

Alessandro was busy, fastening the two nets on either side of the saddle. “Baba will never know he has a load at all; they are not so heavy as my Senorita thought,” he said. “It was the weight on the forehead, with nothing to keep the strings from the skin, which gave her pain.”

Alessandro was making all haste. His hands trembled. “We must make all the speed we can, dearest Senorita,” he said, “for a few hours. Then we will rest. Before light, we will be in a spot where we can hide safely all day. We will journey only by night, lest they pursue us.”

“They will not,” said Ramona. “There is no danger. The Senora said she should do nothing. 'Nothing!'” she repeated, in a bitter tone. “That is what she made Felipe say, too. Felipe wanted to help us. He would have liked to have you stay with us; but all he could get was, that she would do 'nothing!' But they will not follow us. They will wish never to hear of me again. I mean, the Senora will wish never to hear of me. Felipe will be sorry. Felipe is very good, Alessandro.”

They were all ready now,--Ramona on Baba, the two packed nets swinging from her saddle, one on either side. Alessandro, walking, led his tired pony. It was a sad sort of procession for one going to be wed, but Ramona's heart was full of joy.

“I don't know why it is, Alessandro,” she said; “I should think I would be afraid, but I have not the least fear,--not the least; not of anything that can come, Alessandro,” she reiterated with emphasis. “Is it not strange?”

“Yes, Senorita,” he replied solemnly, laying his hand on hers as he walked close at her side. “It is strange. I am afraid,--afraid for you, my Senorita! But it is done, and we will not go back; and perhaps the saints will help you, and will let me take care of you. They must love you, Senorita; but they do not love me, nor my people.”

“Are you never going to call me by my name?” asked Ramona. “I hate your calling me Senorita. That was what the Senora always called me when she was displeased.”

“I will never speak the word again!” cried Alessandro. “The saints forbid I should speak to you in the words of that woman!”

“Can't you say Ramona?” she asked.

Alessandro hesitated. He could not have told why it seemed to him difficult to say Ramona.

“What was that other name, you said you always thought of me by?” she continued. “The Indian name,--the name of the dove?”

“Majel,” he said. “It is by that name I have oftenest thought of you since the night I watched all night for you, after you had kissed me, and two wood-doves were calling and answering each other in the dark; and I said to myself, that is what my love is like, the wood-dove: the wood-dove's voice is low like hers, and sweeter than any other sound in the earth; and the wood-dove is true to one mate always--” He stopped.

“As I to you, Alessandro,” said Ramona, leaning from her horse, and resting her hand on Alessandro's shoulder.

Baba stopped. He was used to knowing by the most trivial signs what his mistress wanted; he did not understand this new situation; no one had ever before, when Ramona was riding him, walked by his side so close that he touched his shoulders, and rested his hand in his mane. If it had been anybody else than Alessandro, Baba would not have permitted it even now. But it must be all right, since Ramona was quiet; and now she had stretched out her hand and rested it on Alessandro's shoulder. Did that mean halt for a moment? Baba thought it might, and acted accordingly; turning his head round to the right, and looking back to see what came of it.

Alessandro's arms around Ramona, her head bent down to his, their lips together,--what could Baba think? As mischievously as if he had been a human being or an elf, Baba bounded to one side and tore the lovers apart. They both laughed, and cantered on,--Alessandro running; the poor Indian pony feeling the contagion, and loping as it had not done for many a day.

“Majel is my name, then,” said Ramona, “is it? It is a sweet sound, but I would like it better Majella. Call me Majella.”

“That will be good,” replied Alessandro, “for the reason that never before had any one the same name. It will not be hard for me to say Majella. I know not why your name of Ramona has always been hard to my tongue.”

“Because it was to be that you should call me Majella,” said Ramona. “Remember, I am Ramona no longer. That also was the name the Senora called me by--and dear Felipe too,” she added thoughtfully. “He would not know me by my new name. I would like to have him always call me Ramona. But for all the rest of the world I am Majella, now,--Alessandro's Majel!”

XVI

AFTER they reached the highway, and had trotted briskly on for a mile, Alessandro suddenly put out his hand, and taking Baba by the rein, began turning him round and round in the road.

“We will not go any farther in the road,” he said, “but I must conceal our tracks here. We will go backwards for a few paces.” The obedient Baba backed slowly, half dancing, as if he understood the trick; the Indian pony, too, curvetted awkwardly, then by a sudden bound under Alessandro's skilful guidance, leaped over a rock to the right, and stood waiting further orders. Baba followed, and Capitan; and there was no trail to show where they had left the road.