"Yes, Aunt Ambrosia's kindness often seems unbearable, and I fly from
it; it is curious for one to run from kindness."

"Your aunt is a strange creature, I can never understand her; sometimes
I love her much, and then, without any apparent cause, I shun her as if
she bore a plague."

"I too feel so toward her, and scarcely know whether she loves me
devotedly or hates me; her laugh though is unbearable, to me, there
seems to be wickedness in it," replied Ysidria, "though I should not
talk ill of her, for she is very kind, making me many little sweets and
pasties, and there is one sweet drop of which she is very choice, never
giving me more than one at a time. I have nearly grown into the habit of
taking them each morning before breakfast, and I feel very wretched if I
miss one. You must try them, and shall, if I can persuade Aunt Ambrosia
for an extra drop; I think she will for you though."

"We have been talking, Madre Moreno and I, and I have proposed that you
shall go to Mexico or Santa Clara to have an oculist examine your eyes,
for indeed I fear there is something which should be looked to at once.
We would all hate to have your beautiful eyes, Ysidria, never reflect
our faces more."

We had by this time reached the old ruin, and turned, as if of one
accord, toward the spot.

"Yes, Señor Carlos," said Ysidria, as we dismounted, "every word of
praise I hear about my eyes, seems like mockery to me; I, myself, am
frightened at their strange changes, and fear that I shall soon be