Page 10 - ramona-text
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R A M O N A
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        ally clever for the day and generation to which she belonged.
        Her life, the mere surface of it, if it had been written, would
        have made a romance, to grow hot and cold over: sixty years
        of the best of old Spain, and the wildest of New Spain, Bay
        of Biscay, Gulf of iMexico, Pacific Ocean,—the waves of them
        all had tossed destinies for the Sefiora. The Holy Catholic
        Church had had  its arms round her from first to last; and
        that was what had brought her safe through,  she would
        have said, if she had ever said anything about herself, which
        she never did,—one of her many wisdoms. So quiet, so re-
        served, so gentle an exterior never was known to veil such an
        imperious and passionate nature, brimful of storm, always
        passing through  stress; never thwarted, except  at  peril of
        those who did it; adored and hated by turns, and each at the
        hottest. A tremendous  force, wherever she appeared, was
        Senora Moreno; but no stranger would suspect  it, to see her
        gliding about,  in her scanty black gown, with her rosary
        hanging at her side, her soft dark eyes cast down, and an
        expression of mingled melancholy and devotion on her face.
        She looked simply  like a  sad, spiritual-minded old  lady,
        amiable and indolent, like her race, but sweeter and more
        thoughtful than their wont. Her voice heightened this mis-
        taken impression. She was never heard to speak either loud
        or fast. There was at times even a curious hesitancy in her
        speech, which came near being a stammer, or suggested the
        measured care with which people speak who have been cured
        of stammering.  It made her often appear as  if she did not
        known her own mind; at which people sometimes took heart;
        when,  if they had only known the truth, they would have
        known that the speech hesitated solely because the Seiiora
        knew her mind so exactly that she was fmding  it hard to
        make the words convey  it as she desired, or in a way to best
        attain her ends.
          About this very sheep-shearing there had been, between
        her and the head shepherd, Juan Canito. called Juan Can foi
        short, and  to distinguish him from Juan  Jose,  the upper
        herdsman of the cattle, some discussions which would have
        been  hot and angry ones  in any  other hands than  the
        Sefiora's.
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