arm and dropped the little paper on the coverlet, just
over Felipe's feet. There was a risk that the Senora would come out in
the morning, before Felipe awaked, and see the note first; but that risk
she would take.

"Farewell, dear Felipe!" she whispered, under her breath, as she turned
from the window.

The delay had cost her dear. The watchful Capitan, from his bed at the
upper end of the court, had half heard, half scented, something strange
going on. As Ramona stepped out, he gave one short, quick bark, and came
bounding down.

"Holy Virgin, I am lost!" thought Ramona; but, crouching on the ground,
she quickly opened her net, and as Capitan came towards her, gave him a
piece of meat, fondling and caressing him. While he ate it, wagging his
tail, and making great demonstrations of joy, she picked up her load
again, and still fondling him, said, "Come on, Capitan!" It was her last
chance. If he barked again, somebody would be waked; if he went by her
side quietly, she might escape. A cold sweat of terror burst on her
forehead as she took her first step cautiously. The dog followed. She
quickened her pace; he trotted along, still smelling the meat in the
net. When she reached the willows, she halted, debating whether she
should give him a large piece of meat, and try to run away while he was
eating it, or whether she should let him go quietly along. She decided
on the latter course; and, picking up her other net, walked on. She was
safe now. She turned, and looked back towards the house; all was dark
and still. She could hardly see its outline. A great wave of emotion
swept over her. It was the only home she had ever known. All she
had experienced of happiness, as well as of bitter pain, had been
there,--Felipe, Father Salvierderra, the servants, the birds, the
garden, the dear chapel! Ah, if she could have once more prayed in the
chapel! Who would put fresh flowers and ferns in the chapel now? How
Felipe would miss her, when he knelt before the altar! For fourteen
years she had knelt by his side. And the Senora,--the hard, cold Senora!
She would alone be glad. Everybody else would be sorry. "They will all
be sorry I have gone,--all but the Senora! I wish it had been so that I
could have bidden them all good-by, and had them all bid me good-by, and
wish us good fortune!" thought the gentle, loving girl, as she drew a
long sigh, and, turning her back on her home, went forward in the path
she had chosen.

She stoope