"Yasma!" I shouted. And my heart pounded as if it would burst; and my limbs shuddered, and my breath came fast; and the silent tears flowed as I staggered forward with outspread arms.
Without a word she glided forth to meet me, and in an instant we were locked in an embrace.
It must have been minutes before we parted. Not a syllable did we speak; ours was a reunion such as sundered lovers may know beyond the grave.
When at length our arms slipped apart and I gazed at the familiar face, her cheeks were wet but her eyes were glistening. It might have been but an hour since we had met, for she did not seem changed at all.
"Oh, my beloved," she murmured, using the first term of endearment I had ever heard from her lips, "it has been so long since I have seen you! So long, oh, how long!"
"It has been long for me too. Longer than whole years. Oh, Yasma, why did you have to leave?"
A frown flitted across the beautiful face, and the luminous eyes became momentarily sad. "Do not ask that!" she begged. "Oh, do not ask now!" And, seeing her distress, I was sorry that the unpremeditated question had slipped from my lips.
"All that counts, Yasma," said I, gently, "is that you are here now. For that I thank whatever powers have had you in their keeping."
"Thank Yulada!" she suggested, cryptically, with a motion toward the southern mountains.
It was now my turn to frown.