After the birth of her little daughter, she died, and very soon the father was lost in a fearful storm at sea; so the child was left alone in the world, with none to care for her but the silver-haired grandmother, and no home but the little cane hut.
For some years every thing went pleasantly with the child; she had never known luxury, her necessities were supplied, she returned the fond devotion of the old grandmother, with the ardor of her Southern nature; and, all day long, her innocent voice, full of childish happiness, woke cheerful echoes around the little hut.
One night, when she was about ten years old, the old woman fell sick. She felt the dim shadows creeping over her spirit, and her strength growing less; and calling the child to her side, she said, feebly: "I have nothing but a well-worn distaff and the poor hut to give you. The Holy Virgin pity and protect you; you have been a good child to your old grandmother." Then she kissed her, and blessing her, bade her good-night, adding: "Never forget to say your prayers before you go to sleep. God bless you, my poor, poor child."
The grandmother turned her face to the wall, and folded her thin hands as if in prayer, and Zaletta crept softly into bed beside her, feeling very sad; but soon her innocent heart was happy, roaming through the pleasant land of dreams. In the morning, Zaletta slept till the sun rose above the hills, and cast its glowing warmth down into the shaded valleys, then woke full of life and joyousness.
There lay the grandmother just as she had last seen her the night before. "She sleeps long this morning, the dear old grandmother," said she to herself, as she moved round quietly, preparing the scanty breakfast.
When it was all ready, she became impatient, and laid her little warm hand upon the old woman's arm. Cold, very cold, the poor child found her, and motionless. She would never move again.
Zaletta called her, sobbing and weeping, but there was no reply. The heart so ready to sympathize with all her childish sorrows was at rest. The old grandmother had died, praying for the little lonely child, who had been dearer than all the world to her.
The next day the people from the hacienda came and buried the old woman. After the last sod was cast upon the grave, the innkeeper's wife took the child by the hand, saying: "Poor little thing, she can not stay here alone, I will take her home with me;" and she smoothed the tangled hair of the helpless orphan with her hand, and in her harder heart she thought, "By and by this girl may be made of great service to me, and even now I'll see that she earns all that she eats and wears."
She was very careful to take to the inn with her, all the poor little hut contained. "'Tis but little," she said, "but I'll take it for the child." All the neighbors said it was kind in the innkeeper's wife, and the rich señor, to whom the whole hacienda belonged, gave her a shining gold-piece, saying: "'Tis for your charity."
The cold-hearted woman went home, leading by the hand a little weeping child, very desolate and sorrowful.