fault.

The story of Ramona the Senora never told. To most of the
Senora's acquaintances now, Ramona was a mystery. They did not
know -- and no one ever asked a prying question of the Senora
Moreno -- who Ramona's parents were, whether they were living
or dead, or why Ramona, her name not being Moreno, lived always
in the Senora's house as a daughter, tended and attended equally
with the adored Felipe. A few gray-haired men and women here
and there in the country could have told the strange story of
Ramona; but its beginning was more than a half-century back, and
much had happened since then. They seldom thought of the child.
They knew she was in the Senora Moreno's keeping, and that was
enough. The affairs of the generation just going out were not the
business of the young people coming in. They would have
tragedies enough of their own presently; what was the use of
passing down the old ones? Yet the story was not one to be
forgotten; and now and then it was told in the twilight of a summer
evening, or in the shadows of vines on a lingering afternoon, and
all young men and maidens thrilled who heard it.

It was an elder sister of the Senora's,-- a sister old enough to be
wooed and won while the Senora was yet at play,-- who had been
promised in marriage to a young Scotchman named Angus Phail.
She was a beautiful woman; and Angus Phail, from the day that he
first saw her standing in the Presidio gate, became so madly her
lover, that he was like a man bereft of his senses. This was the
only excuse ever to be made for Ramona Gonzaga's deed. It could
never be denied, by her bitterest accusers, that, at the first, and
indeed for many months, she told Angus she did not love him, and