_November 3, 1903._[1]
Our girl is alive again, she is alive. Her heart glows and thrills, and
it is not burning pain or bitter, dumb despair that makes the strings
vibrate; love is sounding the chords. Why did I complain, ungrateful
that I was, with such a rich treasure within me?
Love is greater than all else! And she is richest who gives most. And I
shall give, as a rich father's child, with a full hand. What has been
given me, I shall give back with interest. Oh, there are so many that
hunger and thirst after love!
Strange and wonderful things can happen in life. He and Father were
drawn together from the very first moment that they set eyes upon each
other two years ago. He and Father have been friends ever since; and he
has visited us often.
It was one of his poor little wife's wishes to come and see us, with him
and all of the children. Both of them called my father, "Father." She
was so anxious to make our acquaintance; alas, before her wish could be
granted, death took her away.
Shortly before her death, he saw his wife in a dream; she was deep in
fervent prayer, and the prayer that was sent up to the All-Highest was,
that she and Raden Adjeng Kartini might meet and be friends through all
eternity. Since that time, I have never been out of his thoughts.
Yes, he has suffered much, when she went away it was a deep blow to him,
he loved her very dearly.
And his hope for himself is, that Father's treasure--his wasiat
djati,[2] as he calls me--shall help him to forget his grief.
May I not find a little message from you when, on the eleventh, I enter
my new home for the first time? It will be as if you had raised your
dear hand to bless me.
[1] To Mevrouw Abendanon.
[2] Heir to his existence in whom his whole being begins and ends.