romance. For serious study or for deep thought she had no
vocation. She was a simple, joyous, gentle, clinging, faithful
nature, like a clear brook rippling along in the sun,-- a nature as
unlike as possible to the Senora's, with its mysterious depths and
stormy, hidden currents.

Of these Ramona was dimly conscious, and at times had a tender,
sorrowful pity for the Senora, which she dared not show, and could
only express by renewed industry, and tireless endeavor to fulfil
every duty possible in the house. This gentle faithfulness was not
wholly lost on Senora Moreno, though its source she never
suspected; and it won no new recognition from her for Ramona, no
increase of love.

But there was one on whom not an act, not a look, not a smile of
all this graciousness was thrown away. That one was Felipe. Daily
more and more he wondered at his mother's lack of affection for
Ramona. Nobody knew so well as he how far short she stopped of
loving her. Felipe knew what it meant, how it felt, to be loved by
the Senora Moreno. But Felipe had learned while he was a boy that
one sure way to displease his mother was to appear to be aware
that she did not treat Ramona as she treated him. And long before
he had become a man he had acquired the habit of keeping to
himself most of the things he thought and felt about his little
playmate sister,-- a dangerous habit, out of which were slowly
ripening bitter fruits for the Senora's gathering in later years.

IV

IT was longer even than the Senora had thought it would be,