The Song of the Blood-Red Flower Part 54

Olof had taken off the outer wrappings. He lifted the little arms, held the boy upright, looking at him critically, like a doctor examining recruits. "Long in the limbs--and sound enough, by the look of him!" Then he gazed earnestly into the child's face, with its wise, bright eyes, and seemed to find something there that promised well for the future.

"Dear little rascal!" he cried ecstatically, and tenderly he kissed the child's forehead. The boy made no sound, but seemed to be observing the pair.

Olof laid him down in the cradle. "Can't he say anything? Can't you laugh, little son?"

He blinked his eyes, smacked his lips, and uttered a little whistling sound as if calling some shy bird--he had never seen anything like it; it seemed to come of itself.

"Laughing--he's laughing ... that's the way!"

Kyllikki was standing behind him, leaning against the sofa, watching them both.

"And his hands! St.u.r.dy hands to drain a marsh! So mother was right, was she? Ey, such a little fist! A real marsh-mole!" And he kissed the tiny hands delightedly.

"But look at his nails--they want cutting already. Ah, yes, mother knew father would like to do it himself, so she did."

And he hurried to Kyllikki's work-basket, and took out a small pair of scissors. "Father'll manage it--come!"

And he fell on his knees beside the bed.

"Don't be afraid--softly, softly--there! Father's hands are none so hard, for all he's so big." He cut the nails, kissing the little fingers in between. The boy laughed. Kyllikki leaned over towards them, smiling more warmly still.

"There--now it's done! Look at him, Kyllikki! Isn't he splendid?" And he turned towards her. "But what--what am I thinking of all the time!

Kyllikki, I haven't even kissed you yet. Welcome, dear, welcome a thousand times!"

He took her in his arms. "How well you look--and lovely! Why, you look younger than ever! Little mother--how shall I ever thank you for--this!"

"It was your gift to me," said Kyllikki softly, with a tender glance at the little bed.

Olof led her to a seat, and they talked together in the silent speech of the eyes that is for great moments only.

"Why...!" Olof sprang up suddenly. "I'm forgetting everything to-day.

Here I've made coffee all ready, and now...."

He lifted the coffee-pot and set it on the tray.

"Did you make the coffee?" asked Kyllikki, smiling in wonder.

"And who else should do it on such a day? Here!"

And they sat down to table, without a word.

Presently the child began to whimper. Both rose to their feet.

"What's the matter, then--did it hurt?" said Kyllikki tenderly. She lifted the little one in her arms, and began talking to him with her eyes, and smiling, with delicious little movements of her head.

The child began to laugh.

Without a word, she laid him in Olof's arms. He thanked her with a look, and held the boy close to his breast. All else seemed to have vanished but this one thing. And he felt the warmth of the little body gradually spreading through clothes and wrappings to his own ... it was like a gentle, soft caress. It thrilled him--and the arms that held the little burden trembled; he could not speak, but handed it back in silence to the mother.

She laid it in the cradle, set the pillow aright, and pulled up the coverlet, leaving only a little face showing above.

"It is a great trust, to be given such a little life to care for,"

said Olof, with a quiver in his voice, as they sat down on the sofa.

"It seems too great a thing to be possible, somehow."

"But it is," said Kyllikki. "And do you know what I think? That forgiveness is a greater thing than punishment--and Life knows it!"

He nodded, and pressed her hand.

Again he glanced at the little red face on the pillow, and an expression of earnestness, almost of gloom, came over his own.

"Olof," said Kyllikki softly, taking his hand, "will you tell me what you are thinking of just now?"

He did not answer at once.

"No, no--you need not tell me. I know. But why think of that now, Olof? And you know--he at least, has a father and mother who have learned something of life; maybe he will not need to go through all we have done to get so far...."

"Ay, that was what I was thinking," said Olof.

And no more was said, but heartfelt wishes hovered protectingly about the little bed.

"Look now!" cried Kyllikki, after a while. "He's fallen asleep! Isn't he lovely?"

And warm sunshine seemed to fill the room--even to its darkest corner.

"Olof?" said Kyllikki, with a questioning glance towards the door of the adjoining room.

His face lit up, and together they stole on tiptoe to the door; Olof opened it, and Kyllikki stood on the threshold, looking into the little room--it was newly papered, and looked larger and brighter than before.

She turned and took his hand--her eyes told him all she thought and felt.

He put his arm round her waist, and his eyes lit with a sudden gleam of recollection.

"I told you once," he said dreamily, as they walked back into the sitting-room, "how sister Maya came to call me home, when I was still wandering about from place to place."

"Yes, I remember; it was so beautiful, Olof--I shall never forget."

"And how we came home after, and began...."

They had reached the window now. "Look!" said Olof suddenly, pointing out.

Down in the valley lay the marsh of Isosuo, spreading away almost immeasurably on every side. At the edge of the water two big channels were being cut, in front were a host of workmen clearing timber, while others behind them dug the channels in the soil. It was like the march of two great armies towards the land of the future. The setting sun cast its red glow over the powerful shoulders of the men as they worked, here and there a spade or an axe flashed for a moment; the water in the d.y.k.es glittered like silver, and the moist earth at the edge shone with a metallic gleam.