He saw the meshes closing around him. He felt that there was a flaw somewhere in his mother's reasoning, but he could not point it out; in fact, he could hardly make it distinct to himself. His brain was confused. Only one thing he saw clearly, and that was, that after all had been said and done, Ramona would still marry Alessandro. But it was evident that it would never be with his mother's consent. "Nor with mine either, openly, the way she puts it. I don't see how it can be; and yet I have promised Alessandro to do all I could for him. Curse the luck, I wish he had never set foot on the place!" said Felipe in his heart, growing unreasonable, and tired with the perplexity.
The Senora continued: "I shall always blame myself bitterly for having failed to see what was going on. As you say, Alessandro has been with us a great deal since your illness, with his music, and singing, and one thing and another; but I can truly say that I never thought of Ramona's being in danger of looking upon him in the light of a possible lover, any more than of her looking thus upon Juan Canito, or Luigo, or any other of the herdsmen or laborers. I regret it more than words can express, and I do not know what we can do, now that it has happened."
"That's it, mother! That's it!" broke in Felipe. "You see, you see it is too late now."
The Senora went on as if Felipe had not spoken. "I suppose you would really very much regret to part with Alessandro, and your word is in a way pledged to him, as you had asked him if he would stay on the place, Of course, now that all this has happened, it would be very unpleasant for Ramona to stay here, and see him continually -- at least for a time, until she gets over this strange passion she seems to have conceived for him. It will not last. Such sudden passions never do." The Senora artfully interpolated, "What should you think, Felipe, of having her go back to the Sisters' school for a time? She was very happy there."
The Senora had strained a point too far. Felipe's self-control suddenly gave way, and as impetuously as he had spoken in the beginning, he spoke again now, nerved by the memory of Ramona's face and tone as she had cried to him in the garden, "Oh, Felipe, you won't let her shut me up in the convent, will you?"
"Mother!" he cried, "you would never do that. You would not shut the poor girl up in the convent!"
The Senora raised her eyebrows in astonishment. "Who spoke of shutting up?" she said. "Ramona has already been there at school.
She might go again. She is not too old to learn. A change of scene and occupation is the best possible cure for a girl who has a thing of this sort to get over. Can you propose anything better, my son?
What would you advise?" And a third time the Senora paused for an answer.
These pauses and direct questions of the Senora's were like nothing in life so much as like that stage in a spider's processes when, withdrawing a little way from a half-entangled victim, which still supposes himself free, it rests from its weaving, and watches the victim flutter. Subtle questions like these, assuming, taking for granted as settled, much which had never been settled at all, were among the best weapons in the Senora's armory. They rarely failed her.
"Advise!" cried Felipe, excitedly. "Advise! This is what I advise -- to let Ramona and Alessandro marry. I can't help all you say about our obligations. I dare say you're right; and it's a cursedly awkward complication for us, anyhow, the way you put it."
"Yes, awkward for you, as the head of our house," interrupted the Senora, sighing. "I don't quite see how you would face it."
"Well, I don't propose to face it," continued Felipe, testily. "I don't propose to have anything to do with it, from first to last. Let her go away with him, if she wants to.'
"Without our consent?" said the Senora, gently.
"Yes, without it, if she can't go with it; and I don't see, as you have stated it, how we could exactly take any responsibility about marrying her to Alessandro. But for heaven's sake, mother, let her go! She will go, any way. You haven't the least idea how she loves Alessandro, or how he loves her. Let her go!"
"Do you really think she would run away with him, if it came to that?" asked the Senora, earnestly. "Run away and marry him, spite of our refusing to consent to the marriage?"
"I do," said Felipe.
"Then it is your opinion, is it, that the only thing left for us to do, is to wash our hands of it altogether, and leave her free to do what she pleases?"
"That's just what I do think, mother," replied Felipe, his heart growing lighter at her words. "That's just what I do think. We can't prevent it, and it is of no use to try. Do let us tell them they can do as they like."
"Of course, Alessandro must leave us, then," said the Senora.
"They could not stay here."
"I don't see why!" said Felipe, anxiously.
"You will, my son, if you think a moment. Could we possibly give a stronger indorsement to their marriage than by keeping them here? Don't you see that would be so?"
Felipe's eyes fell. "Then I suppose they couldn't be married here, either," he said, "What more could we do than that, for a marriage that we heartily approved of, my son?"
"True, mother;" and Felipe clapped his hand to his forehead. "But then we force them to run away!"
"Oh, no." said the Senora, icily. "If they go, they will go of their own accord. We hope they will never do anything so foolish and wrong. If they do, I suppose we shall always be held in a measure responsible for not having prevented it. But if you think it is not wise, or of no use to attempt that, I do not see what there is to be done."
Felipe did not speak. He felt discomfited; felt as if he had betrayed his friend Alessandro, his sister Ramona; as if a strange complication, network of circumstances, had forced him into a false position; he did not see what more he could ask, what more could be asked, of his mother; he did not see, either, that much less could have been granted to Alessandro and Ramona; he was angry, wearied, perplexed.
