Wholly unconscious of our proximity the girl looks up and casts a single glance at the fair view stretched out before her—she utters a deep sigh and—
“That face,” we murmur inwardly, “where have we seen that pretty face?”
We have, however, no time to collect our thoughts, for, the next moment as the young girl is again bowing her head to resume her work, a quick light footstep is heard on the path which leads to Ajo. The girl looks up, evidently scared at the unusual sound, she peers anxiously forward and then, almost bereft of the power of speech by the suddenness of the surprise, she gasps forth the cry, “Dalima!”
Yes, it is indeed Dalima who, with nimble step, has crossed the garden and is now running up to the verandah. The weaving-girl starts up from her stool, and before her unexpected visitor has time to mount the three steps, the pair are locked in each other’s embrace and forming, as it were, but one exclamation we hear the words:
“Nana!”
“Dalima!”
Now the mystery is cleared up, now we recognize at once both the one and the other. That weaving girl is Anna van Gulpendam and the other is poor Dalima whom we followed in her anxious and painful search as far as Karang Anjer when we lost sight of her until now.
“Where have you come from?” asked Anna, as again and again she clasped the Javanese girl to her breast.
“To-day I came from the dessa Ajo,” archly replied Dalima.
“What brought you there?”