“Why, what is it, child? What has stirred you so?”
“Mamma, the big ant was trying to kill the little one.”
“And so you protected the little one.”
“Yes, mamma, because he had no friend, and I wouldn’t let the big one kill him.”
“But you have killed them both.”
Cathy was distressed, and her lip trembled. She picked up the remains and laid them upon her palm, and said:
“Poor little anty, I’m so sorry; and I didn’t mean to kill you, but there wasn’t any other way to save you, it was such a hurry.”
She is a dear and sweet little lady, and when she goes it will give me a sore heart. But she will be happy with you, and if your heart is old and tired, give it into her keeping; she will make it young again, she will refresh it, she will make it sing. Be good to her, for all our sakes!
My exile will soon be over now. As soon as I am a little stronger I shall see my Spain again; and that will make me young again!
Mercedes.