“No—­no!  Close the book—­I have seen enough!  Who cares to think of a book with lines and threads of consequence, when fate is kind, and all seems easy going?  I laughed at those who wasted their youth in prayer and fasting.  And I laughed at the laws of life, for I could take Love, and enjoy it without fear of any tie—­I was proud to feel myself free, to know that none had any claim on me—­no child could call me father.  But now, after many years, come those who speak of ties I never dreamed of.  Here was a mother showing me a child—­I had never touched her that way, yet you come and tell me there are laws I know nothing of.  And when I beg and pray of you to grant me a child for myself and for her to whom it is life and death, you turn your back, and cry scornfully:  ’Laugh, and take Love, and enjoy—­you have had your will!’”

Again the terrifying sense of physical distress—­of something amiss with heart and pulse.  He sat waiting for a new shock, wondering if, perhaps, it would be the last ... the end....

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.  Pass off in a minute....”

She looked at him searchingly.  “Olof...?”

“Honestly, it is nothing.”

“It must be something to make you look like that.  Olof, what is it?  I have noticed it before—­though you always tried to pass it off....”

“Well, and if it is,” he answered impatiently, “it need not worry you.”

“Olof, can you say that of anything between us two?”

He was silent for a moment.  “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.

“And now tell me all about it—­it’s no good trying to put it off with me.  You know what I am.”  She sat down beside him and stroked his forehead tenderly.

Olof was silent for a moment.  Then he decided.  He would tell her all.

“Yes—­I know you,” he said softly, taking her hand in his.

* * * * *

It was growing dark when they sat up.  Both were pale and shaken with emotion, but they looked at each other with a new light in their eyes, two human souls drawn closer together by hardship and sorrow.

“Stay where you are and rest a little, while I get the supper,” said Kyllikki, as Olof would have risen.  “And to-morrow—­we can begin the new day,” she added.