"Because—because—what the Señorita offered me was worse than death!" cried Nela vehemently.
"How unjustly you think of her kind charity. There are, of course, beings so wretched that they prefer a low and vagabond existence to the dignity of a superior position. You are accustomed to a free life in direct contact with nature, and you prefer this debased freedom to the sweet affections of home life. Have you been so happy then in this mode of life?"
"I was beginning to be happy...."
"And when did you cease to be happy?" After a long pause, Nela replied:
"When you came here."
"I—what harm have I done you?"
"None, none—nothing but the greatest good."
"I have given your master his sight," said Golfin, looking at Nela's face with the narrow attention of a physiologist. "Do you not thank me for that?"
"Much, Señor, very much," and she gazed up at him with eyes full of tears.
Golfin watched her closely, so as not to miss the slightest change of expression which might guide him to a comprehension of the girl's feelings, as he went on: