The Song of the Blood-Red Flower Part 18

Olof turned cold. It was as if a stranger had surprised them in an intimate caress.

"Olof," she murmured, with an unspeakable tenderness in her eyes. And as if some great thing had suddenly come into her mind she went on: "You have never told me about your mother.... No, don't tell me now; I know it all myself. She is tall like you, and stately, and upright still as ever. And she has just the same bright eyes, and little hollows at the temples, like you have. And she wears a dark striped ap.r.o.n, with a little pocket at the side, where she keeps her knitting, and takes it out now and then to work at as she goes."

"How could you know!" he cried, in pleased surprise. His fear was gone now, and he felt only a wonderful depth of happiness at hearing the girl speak so tenderly of his mother.

"'Tis only guessing. But do you know--I should so like to see her, your mother, that...."

"That...?"

"Only ... only, I should like to see her so. Then I'd put my arms round her neck and ... Olof, did your mother often kiss you?"

"No. Not often."

"But she stroked your hair, and often talked with you all alone, I know."

"Yes ... yes."

His arms loosed their hold of the girl, and almost unconsciously he thrust her a little away, staring out into the distance with a faint smile on his lips and deepest earnest in his eyes.

The girl looked at him wonderingly.

"What is it?" she asked anxiously, as if fearing to have hurt him. But he did not seem to hear, only stood looking out at nothing as before.

"Olof--what is it?" she asked again, in evident distress.

"Only--it was only my mother speaking to me all alone," he answered in a low voice.

"Oh!" The girl sighed deeply. "Now--was it just now she spoke?"

He nodded.

The girl glanced at him and hesitated. "Won't you--won't you tell me what she said?" she asked timidly.

"She told me it was wrong--a sinful wrong even to ask you...."

The girl gazed at him for a long time without speaking; the tenderness in her eyes grew to unutterable depths.

"Oh," she whispered at last, very softly, "if she only knew how I love her now--your mother! I never loved her so before." And she clasped her arms round his neck.

THE RAPIDS

The rapids at Kohiseva are well known; none so well known, nor so ill famed, in all the length of Nuoli River.

And the homestead at Moisio is a well-known place, for they are a stubborn race that hold it; for generations past the masters of Moisio have been known among their neighbours as men of substance, and hard in their dealings to boot--unswerving and pitiless as the waters of Kohiseva.

The daughter at Moisio is well known too; none carries her head so high, and a tender glance from her eyes is more than any of the young men round can boast of having won.

Kyllikki is her name--and no one ever had such a name--at least, folk say there's no such name in the calendar.

The lumbermen's rearguard had come to Kohiseva. They came by night, and here they were at their first day's work there now. Some were still busy floating the last of the timber down; others were clearing the banks of lumber that had driven ash.o.r.e.

It was evening, and the men were on their way to their quarters in the village.

In the garden at Moisio a young girl was watering some plants newly set.

A youth came walking down the road beyond the fence. Some distance off, he caught sight of the girl, and watched her critically as he came up.

"This must be the one they spoke of," he said to himself. "The girl that's proud beyond winning!"

The girl's slender figure straightened as she rose from her stooping position, and threw back the plaited hair that had fallen forward over one shoulder; she bowed her head in demure self-consciousness.

"She's all they say, by her looks," thought the youth, and slackened his steps involuntarily as he pa.s.sed.

The girl watched him covertly. "So that's the one they've all been talking about," she said to herself. "The one that's not like any of the rest."

She bent down to fill her can.

"Shall I speak to her?" the young man asked himself.

"But suppose she'll have nothing to do with you?"

"H'm. 'Twould be the first that ever took it so!" And he smiled.

The girl bent over her work again; the young man came nearer.

"I wonder if he'll have the impudence to speak to me," she thought.

"'Twould be like him, from what they say. But let him try it with me...!"

"Like to like's the best way, I doubt," said the youth to himself. "If she's so proud, I'd better be the same." And he walked by resolutely, without so much as a glance at her, after all.

"Ho!" The girl spilled some of the water with a splash to one side.

"So that's his way, is it?"

She cast a look of displeasure at him as he pa.s.sed down the road--to go by like that without a word was almost a greater offence than if he had spoken.

Next evening she was there again.

And this time he stopped.

"Good evening," he said, raising his hat with rather more of pride than courtesy.