On a chair near her lay a pair of saddle-bags in which her few
belongings had been stowed; a mantilla was drawn half over her head,
and by her side was a large woollen shawl, evidently intended to protect
her against the night air.
"Santos," I said, "go out to the horses under the trees and wait there
for us; and you, Ramona, say good-bye now to your mistress, then leave
us together; for by and by she will recover courage and go with me."
Santos, looking immensely relieved and grateful, though a little
surprised at my confident tone, was hurrying out when I pointed to the
saddle-bags. He nodded, grinned, and, snatching them up, left the room.
Poor old Ramona threw herself on to her knees, sobbing and pouring out
farewell blessings on her mistress, kissing her hands and hair with
sorrowful devotion.
When she left us I sat down by Demetria's side, but she would not takeher
hands from her face or speak to me, and only wept hysterically
when I addressed her. I succeeded at last in getting one of her hands
in mine, and then drew her head gently down till it rested on my
shoulder. When her sobs began to subside I said:
"Tell me, dear Demetria, have you lost faith in me that you fear to
trust yourself with me now?"
"No, no, Richard, it is not that," she faltered. "But I can never look
into your face again. If you have any compassion for me you will leave
me now.
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