"She was just like her, and had the same kind of a voice! And so it aroused in my heart remembrances of long ago when she spoke and when I looked at her. It seems to me I recognized her, but she didn't know me," sadly sighed the boy, and his eyes filled with tears.
"But how could she have recognized you in those farmer's clothes? We too, Petrik and I, hardly recognized you."
"Do you think so?" Ondrejko calmed down. "Palko, take me to her; she doesn't know that I am her Andreas. She doesn't know me."
"She knows already. Uncle Filina was there. He told her the truth."
"Oh, then take me with you, because I have made her very sad—till she almost died."
"I don't care. Come, then. Surely the Lord Jesus wants it so."
* * * * *
No matter how long Ondrejko Gemersky lives he will never be able to forget how it was when the doors in the cottage opened and a beautiful lady in a light blue dress, the color of forget-me-nots, stepped out. In her hands she carried a broad hat, but she dropped it with a cry, "My Ondrejko!" as she ran toward them. He flew like an arrow to meet her.
"Mother, my mother!"—and already held her around the neck. She, kneeling, hugged him to her breast. They both cried, and Palko with them.
"Oh, mother, my mother, how I love you! Verily I am yours, and surely you will keep me now," begged Ondrejko with tears. He stroked the beautiful face and forehead of the lady.