The Song of the Blood-Red Flower Part 48

We are always together, and talking of you. I am sorry for mother sometimes; she looks so strangely at me, and says I go about talking to myself--but how could she know of my prince and his father, and why I talk? Talking to myself, she says. But I am talking to the child all the time.

"There, and what more was I going to say? I can't remember now. I feel so much better now I have told you all about it. And now the summer is coming--I always feel happier then. It was raining before, but now the sun has come out and the birds are singing. And so good-bye, my dearest, my sunshine, my summer.--Your own CLEMATIS.

"Do not write to me--I am better as I am. I know you have not forgotten me, that you could not forget ... and that is all I ask."

THE MARK

Olof was growing uneasy--a feeling of insecurity had come over him.

The air seemed full of mysterious forces, whispering together and joining in alliance against him.

It had all looked clear and simple enough before. No one had ever stood in his way or threatened his plans. But now something was threatening him--something unknown, mysterious, but which he could not help feeling all the time.

He made every effort to resist--to gather arms and allies against what was to come. His project for draining the marsh was the first thing; he went about from one homestead to another, talking to the men one by one, and trying to interest them in the idea. A general meeting was held, and he made a great speech, putting out all his powers of persuasion; his voice rang with a convincing strength, and his words carried weight. And to begin with, all went well enough; it was agreed that an expert should be called in to investigate the whole question, and work out the probable cost of the undertaking.

But then came a period of waiting and inactivity, which sapped his strength anew. He had to seek about for some fresh task, for new difficulties to meet and overcome, in order to regain his confidence in himself. And so for a week he roved about in the forest between his own and the neighbouring parishes.

At last he found what he sought--the line for a new road, better and quicker than the old one.

It was a fine idea, that no one could deny. It would be a great gain to all in Hirviyoki, especially for those in the outlying parts; it meant a saving of miles on their way to the railway, the mills, and other centres.

And so once more Olof went from house to house, seeking adherents among the most influential men, so as to crush opposition before the matter was taken up for general discussion. He started with those nearest at hand, working gradually farther out.

"Is this Inkala?" asked Olof of a serving-girl, as he entered the courtyard; he did not know the place, nor who lived there.

"This is Inkala--yes," answered the girl.

"Is the master at home?"

"No; he went off to Muurila this morning."

"H'm. And when's he coming back?"

"Don't know at all. But maybe mistress'll know. If you'd go in by the front way, I'll tell her."

Olof walked up the front steps.

Hardly had he entered the room when a slender, fair-haired woman appeared from within.

"Good-day to ..." Olof began; but the greeting died on his lips, and a shiver pa.s.sed through his body.

The woman stopped still; her lips moved, but uttered no word.

Stiffly, uneasily, they looked at each other. A glimpse of the past, a sequence of changes, things new and things familiar--the vision of a moment, seen in a flash.

A warm flush spread over the woman's cheeks, and she stepped forward without hesitation to greet the newcomer.

"Welcome, Olof," she said, with frank kindness, though her voice trembled slightly. "And is it really you? Sit down.'"

But Olof stood still, unable to recover himself.

"I dare say you're surprised to--to find me here," went on the woman, trying to speak easily and naturally, though her features and the look in her eyes revealed a certain emotion. "I have been here for four years now." She stopped, and cast down her eyes in confusion.

"Really--four years, is it as long as that...?" Olof stammered out the words awkwardly, and could say no more.

"But you've heard no news of me, I suppose, and my being here. I knew a little about you, though--that you had come back and were living near...."

"Yes, yes.... No, I had no idea ... I came prepared to find only strangers, and then ... to meet you here ... so far from...."

"Yes, it is a long way from my home." The woman grasped eagerly at something to talk of. "And it's all so different here, though it's not so far, after all, counting the miles. It was very strange and new at first, of course, but now I like it well enough. And we often go over to the old place, and father and mother come to see us here...."

"Yes, yes.... And how are they at home? Your mother and father?" Olof asked, with a ring of pleasant recollection in his voice.

"Finely, thank you. Father was bad for a time last winter, but he's got over it now, or nearly...."

She broke off and glanced at the door. It was thrust open a little, and a child's head looked in.

She stepped hastily across the room. "What do you want in here? Can't you see here are visitors--and you with your dirty overall on?"

"I wanted to see," said the little man stubbornly, with childish insistence, and clung to his mother.

Olof looked at the child as at a vision.

The woman stood, pale and confused, holding the boy by the hand.

"Come along, then, and say good-day," she stammered at last, hardly knowing what she did.

The boy came forward, and stood holding Olof's knees, looking up into his face.

Child and man gazed at each other without a word or movement, as if each were seeking for some explanation.

"I haven't seen you before," said the child at last. "Do you live a long way away?"

Olof felt himself trembling. The child's first words had set his heart beating wildly.

"But you mustn't stay here, dear," said the woman hastily, and led the boy away. "Go into the next room a little--mother's coming soon."

The child obeyed without a word, but in the doorway he turned, and again looked wonderingly at his mother and the strange man....

Olof was gone; the young mistress of Inkala sat alone in her room.

Thinking it over now, it seemed like a dream. Was it indeed Olof she had seen? Or had she been dreaming in broad daylight?

It had seemed natural enough at first. Both were surprised, of course, at the unexpected meeting, but soon they had found themselves talking calmly enough.