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Updated: May 9, 2025
Build a bit of a house, and maybe turn up a patch of ground or so." "Build a house...?" repeated the other in surprise. "Yes. You see, brother, each goes his own way," went on Olof heavily. "And I've a sort of feeling now that I can't live on anything out of the past. I must try and build up a life for myself, all anew. If I can do that, perhaps I may be able to go on living."
They sat for a few moments in silence; then Kyllikki entered once more, blushing still, glanced hastily at Olof, and sat down, watching her father's face. At last the old man turned. The scene had left its mark on him, but there was dignity still in his glance as he looked Olof full in the face. "You've made yourself my son-in-law," he said, "though 'twas no wish of mine it should be so.
"Red red is all that is beautiful in the world," nodded the fuchsia to the balsamine. The sun rose over the far-curving slopes on either side of the river, filled his lungs with the freshening coolness of the night, and drank his morning cup of glistening dew. A light mist still hung over the riverbed. Olof strode down the slope with easy step, his heart swelling with joy.
The door opened. "Olof! Here I am at last am I very late?... Why, what is the matter?... Olof...!" Kyllikki hurried over to him. With an effort he pulled himself together, and answered calmly, with a smile: "Don't get so excited you frightened me! It's nothing ... nothing.... I felt a little giddy for the moment, that was all. I've had it before it's nothing to worry about.
Olof felt as if a mighty storm had suddenly torn away a dark, overshadowing growth, laying bare the heart of a fearsome place deep clefts and stagnant pools and treacherous bogs. "Ay, there's much that's hard to understand," she whispered in his ear. "But go to your work, now, sons. I'm tired now, leave me to rest...." The young men rose and left the room.
Of clematis with the snow-white flowers. For you are as the clematis, my love, sweet and beautiful as its blossoms, dear as its growth about the windows of a home and deep, endlessly deep, as life itself." "But that is just what you are doing, Olof for all you say is like a poem and a song," answered the girl. "Sing for me again and let me just sit here at your feet and listen."
The fiddler broke off, and struck up a polka at such a furious pace that the dancers stopped and looked at one another in surprise. But Olof went off in wild career with his partner, and several other pairs followed. These, however, soon fell out, and all stood watching the bridegroom, who danced like a man bewitched.
"There's girls of our own sort that can't be handled that way to any good and there's both men and girls that don't take things so lightly." There was an earnest ring in his voice, a note almost of pain, and the men ceased to smile. Olof turned in surprise, and looked at the speaker some of the others were making signs behind the old man's back.
"You Gazelle!" he cried in horror. "Olof!" "Oho, so you're old friends, it seems? Well, then, shake hands nicely. Come along, man, give her a kiss...." Olof felt the room growing dark before his eyes. The girl turned deathly pale. She stood a moment, trembling from head to foot, then turned and fled. There was the sound of a key drawn from a lock, a door was slammed, and then silence.
For a long time the sick woman lay as if overwhelmed by stress of feeling, unable to speak. Olof, with tears in his eyes, sat deep in thought; the elder son had not moved. "And now I can leave it to you," she went on more calmly. "'Tis all tied up, as I said, with thoughts of that time, ay, and hopes and prayers, all the best and the hardest in my life.
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