The Song of the Blood-Red Flower Part 26

"How childish I am!" she thought. And stepping briskly down to the water's edge, she began hastily taking off her clothes.

A splash in the water--Olof was almost lost to sight in the reeds. He took off his boots and hung them by one lace round his neck, then he fixed his bundle of clothes above, and tied it with the remaining lace.

"Ready?" he called over his shoulder, glancing down the stream.

Hurriedly the girl rolled her garments up in the blouse. Her white body shivered--in womanly embarra.s.sment at her position, and with an ecstatic delight. Then with a splash the white figure dipped beneath the water, swam up, and hid in the reeds.

Olof swam upstream, his eyes fixed on the heap of clothing, and a faint smile on his lips. He took the bundle, tied his belt round it, and fastened it above his own. The double load stood up high above his head.

"They'll be all right now--if I don't make a mess of it," he a.s.sured her.

With long, slow strokes he made for the opposite sh.o.r.e. The girl stood motionless in the reeds, watching him as he swam.

"How strong and bold he is!" she thought. "And the wonderful things he does! What does he care for the river?--water between us is nothing to him. He makes everything do his will. How could one be afraid with him?"

"_Her_ clothes!" thought Olof. "And I am carrying them."

He reached the bank, untied the girl's bundle, and set it carefully ash.o.r.e. Then swimming a little farther down, he flung his own things up on land.

"Haven't you started yet?" he called across to the girl--though he had been hoping all the time that she had not.

"No--I was just going to," she replied. "I--I forgot. It was such fun watching you."

"I'll come and meet you, if you like. It'll be safer perhaps...."

"Ye--es," said the girl.

She felt no shame now, though he was looking straight at her. He was filled with the strange delight that comes with any stepping over the bounds of everyday life into a world of fairyland, where all is pure, and nothing is forbidden, where the sense of being _two_ that go their own ways unseen is like a purging, fusing flame.

Olof swam rapidly across.

"You look like a water-witch there in the reeds," he cried delightedly, checking his stroke.

"And you're the water-sprite," she answered, with a joyous smile, as she struck out.

"Bravo, water-witch, you're swimming splendidly!" he cried. They were swimming side by side now, straight across the river.

The water rippled lightly about them; now and again the girl's white shoulder lifted above the surface, her long hair trailed behind over the water, that shone like gold in the sunset light.

"Wonderful!" he cried. "I've never seen anything so lovely."

"Nor I!" said the girl.

"Nor we!" laughed the trees behind them.

"Nor we!" nodded the bushes on the bank in front.

"It is like swimming in the river of forgetfulness," he went on. "All the past disappears, all that was bitter and evil is washed away, and we are but two parts of the same beautiful being that surrounds us."

"Yes, it is like that," said the girl, with feeling.

Slowly they came to land.

"It was very narrow, after all," said Olof regretfully, as he turned from her and went down to fetch his clothes. He dressed as quickly as he could, and hurried up to her again.

"Let me wring the water from your hair," he begged. She smiled permission. The water fell like drops of silver from his hands.

"Must you go now?" asked Olof sadly. "Let me go with you as far as the road at least."

Once more he looked regretfully at the river--as if to fix the recollection in his mind.

They walked up to the road without speaking, and stopped.

"It's ever so hard for me to say good-bye to you," he said, grasping her hands.

"Harder still for me," she answered in a low voice.

"Shall I ever forget you--you, and this evening?"

Her eyelids quivered, and she bowed her head.

"Kyllikki!" he cried desperately. "Would you hide your eyes from me?--Kyllikki...." There was hope and doubt in his eyes; he loosed his hold of her hands, and clasped his own as if questioningly about her waist.

The girl was trembling. She laid her hands on his shoulders, and then slowly twined her arms about his neck.

A tumult of delight came over him. He pressed her to him fervently, lifting her off her feet--her arms drew closer round him.

He saw the look in her eyes change--giddiness seized him, and he set her down.

"May I...?" he asked, with his eyes.

Her eyes consented--and their lips met....

When at last he let her go, the girl's face was changed almost beyond recognition. On her under lip showed a tiny drop of blood.

A cry of dismay rose up in him, but remained unuttered. A strange intoxication overpowered him--the red drop there was the seal of a friendship deeper and more mysterious than all else--in a wild kiss he drank the blood from her lip. He felt himself on the point of swooning--and wished the world would end there, in that moment.

He could not speak--he did not know whether to stay or go. A darkness seemed to close about him, and he staggered off like a drunken man, without looking back.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT NEITOKALLIO

A league of swift-flowing river, almost straight, with gently sloping meadows, forest-crowned, on either hand.