One dark night in the rainy season she and the mother sat by the fire waiting for the dwarf to come in to his supper. The old woman was spinning, and Zaletta reading a pleasant book of travels.
"My poor boy," sighed the old mother. "How it rains; he will be wet through. Oh, dear! I fear he will never be able to strike the rich lode." Just then a loud knock came at the door. "Who knocks at my door so late in the night," said the old woman.
A voice, young, strong, and pure, answered, sending all the warm blood from Zaletta's heart to her face: "A stranger, belated and lost in the wood, begs for shelter from the storm."
The old woman opened the door, and Guilerme—dear, handsome Guilerme, dripping with rain, and very cold, entered.
Zaletta's book dropped upon the floor, and her tongue refused her heart utterance, but Guilerme's eyes rested upon the beautiful girl with delighted surprise.
"Found at last, my own Zaletta." His arms opened, and the trembling, lonely heart of the maiden found its true resting-place.
They sat down side by side, hand clasping hand, and explained all the past to each other, how Guilerme had written and received no answer, and at last returned to find her gone, and his heart desolate.
Zaletta told him all she had suffered, and of the kindness she had received at the cottage. Then Guilerme took the old woman's hands and thanked her with a voice trembling with emotion.
The mother rejoiced with them, but there mingled a sorrow for her son with the joy. "Poor son," she thought, "He is very fond of the child."
Soon another knock came, and again the old woman asked, "Who knocks at my door so late in the night," and the dwarf answered:—