“No, Nana,” said Dalima, “I am not the least tired. I arrived yesterday morning, very early, at Ajo and have had plenty of time for rest.”
“But now,” resumed Anna, “do tell me something about yourself, about your own affairs, about the trial and all that.”
Thereupon followed the story with which our readers are acquainted. We need hardly add that in the telling of it van Nerekool’s name was by no means forgotten. Dalima’s deep gratitude to her benefactor would not allow her for an instant to neglect his interests. It even seemed as if that gentleman’s name was introduced into her story more frequently than the narrative strictly required. So much so that Anna could not help saying:
“Will you assure me, will you swear, that it was not at Mr. van Nerekool’s suggestion that you have undertaken this journey in quest of me?”
“Yes, Nana, I will swear it,” replied Dalima readily and with the utmost candour.
“And now,” continued Anna, “you must make me another promise, and that is that you will never in any way whatever, let him know that you have succeeded in finding me.”
Dalima made no reply. For a few moments she hesitated.
“Now listen to me, Dalima,” resumed Anna very firmly, “if you will not make me that promise, and promise it most solemnly, then we must part. You will have to leave me and I shall go elsewhere. Heaven only knows where I shall go to!”
One instant the Javanese girl looked up at her companion incredulously—then seeing that Anna was in downright earnest she exclaimed:
“Not stay with you, Nana! Oh! do not say so. I who have travelled so far to be with you. You cannot mean it. Not stay with you? But that can never be. I have left my parents, my friends, my home, my all—only to be close to you—and now you talk of parting!”