"And your mother went.... Go on, I take a real interest in the good woman; she went...."
"She went to a very big hole over there," said the child, standing still and speaking with intense pathos, "and she threw herself in."
"The devil she did! That was coming to a bad end. I suppose she did not come out again?"
"No, Señor," said Nela with perfect simplicity. "She is there still."
"And since that catastrophe, poor child," said Golfin kindly, "you have stayed at work here. Mining work is very hard labor and you have taken the hue of the soil; you are thin and ill-nourished. This life is enough to ruin the strongest constitution."
"No, Señor; I do not labor. They say I am not good for anything and never shall be."
"God forbid, silly child! why you are a treasure."
"No indeed," insisted the girl, "I cannot work at all. If I take up ever so small a load, I fall down, and if I am set to any hard work I faint away before long."
"You are as God made you—and if you fell into the hands of any one who knew how to treat you, you would work very well."