me; they read--

My dear Carlos:

Scarcely do I know how to begin this letter to you, whom I love so
much. My aunt, Ambrosia, came to me last night, soon after you left
me at the gate; she was smiling and very happy, and resting her
hand on my shoulder said:

"Ysidria thou hast done well, thou couldst not have done better had
I trained thee to it." I was surprised at her manner, and asked her
to explain. She sat down beside me and taking my hand in hers
began:

"I know thou art willing to do much for thy old aunt, and I have
made thee, unknowingly, do it, though then wilt not blame me when I
tell the why I have." She then related to me a tale of her father's
time, when he had some trouble with your grandfather, and of the
curse which she had pronounced upon each generation of de Sotos;
you know all this. I listened in surprise and disgust, for she
seemed to gloat over the thought of avenging the fancied wrong.

"I have had revenge upon two generations through that plot of
ground, and now I must have it from the present, from their child,
Carlos de Sotos, through that same plot and through thee."

"Do you expect me to deceive him?" I cried in horror, "I will
rather leave your house than that." She laughed loudly at this, and
said: "It is too late now, Ysidria, the deed is already done." And
then she related to me a story so full of scheming and horror that