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Updated: June 5, 2025
"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.
"Why not," he said at last, "if it is something that could only add needlessly to the other's burden?" "Then more than ever," answered Kyllikki warmly. She hurried into the next room and returned with a coverlet. "You are tired out, Olof lie down and rest." With tender firmness she forced him to lie down, and spread it over him.
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 dykes glittered like silver, and the moist earth at the edge shone with a metallic gleam. "Ah!" cried Kyllikki joyfully. "The work has begun!"
"Liar liar and hypocrite!" he cried. Kyllikki did not move; she stood there still silent, only the red flush in her cheeks deepened. Nothing was left of the wreath now but some strands of wire and a few loose leaves Olof spurned it aside, and the veil after it. Then he drew himself up, and looked at Kyllikki with the eyes of a man who has crushed one foe and prepares to meet another.
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.
Olof grasped her hand and pressed it to his lips without a word. Kyllikki went to fetch some coverings. As she did so, she caught sight of something lying on the table, and keeping her back turned to Olof, she picked up the thing and put it back in the drawer. Olof's eyes followed her with a grateful glance.
He spoke with firmness and authority matters seemed hopelessly at a deadlock. There was a moment of tense silence. Kyllikki bowed her head, then slowly she looked up and faced her father, steadily, confidently Olof noticed with surprise how the two in that moment were alike. Expression and attitude were the same in both. "And if she chooses to give herself what then?" The old man's eyes flashed.
And at the sight, his heart throbbed so violently that he could not move a step; he stood there, looking out through the window at the horse and cart, at Kyllikki with her white kerchief, and at the bundle in her arms. Now they were at the gate. Olof ran out bareheaded, dashing down the path. "Welcome!" he shouted as he ran. "Olof!" Kyllikki's voice was soft as ever, and her eyes gleamed tenderly.
The words shot like venom from her tongue a sting from laughing lips. Her callousness seems to freeze him while his blood boils at the insult to Kyllikki. He is about to speak: "Say what you will, but not an evil word of her!" when the woman goes on: "Well, it's no good sitting here solemn as an owl! I just thought I'd look you up it's a long time since we met, isn't it?
It is hell, hell...!" Kyllikki stood calmly watching him. She was gradually feeling more sure of herself now. At last she moved towards him. "Do you want me to love you?" she said quietly. "Or must I hate you and despise you? You listen to the stories of a drunken fool, instead of asking the one person in the world you should trust; you give me no explanation when I ask you.
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