And, stooping down, she kissed him lightly on the brow.

WAITING

“THE EMPTY HOUSE, 6/9/1900.”

“Your letter has just come—­Kyllikki, you cannot think how I have been longing for it.  I would have sent the girl to the station, only I knew you would not write till it was post day here.

“And you are well—­that is the main thing; the only thing I care about these days.  ’Strong enough to move mountains’—­I can’t say the same about myself.  I have been having a miserable time.  I am sorry I let you go—­or, rather, that I sent you.  I thought I should feel less anxious about you if you were there, but far from it.  Why couldn’t we have let it take place here?  I am only now beginning to understand how completely we have grown together—­I feel altogether helpless without you.  If only it would come—­and have it over, and you could be home again—­you and the boy!

“And then I have something to tell you that I would rather not touch on at all, but we must have no secrets from each other now, not even a thought!  It is the old uneasiness—­it has been coming over me ever since you went away—­as if I could not find rest when you are not near.  I cannot get away from a feeling that all is not over yet—­that things are only waiting for a favourable moment to break loose again.  Try to understand me.  You know how I suffered those two years when we prayed in vain for that which is granted to the poorest.  And you know how I was almost beyond myself with joy when at last our prayers were heard.  But now, when it is only a matter of days before it comes in reality—­now, I am all overcome with dread.  It will go off all right, the thing itself, I know—­you are strong and healthy enough.  But there is an avenging God, an invisible hand, that writes its mene tekel at the very hour when joy is at its height.  Think, if the one we are waiting for—­it is horrible to think of!—­if it should be wrong somehow, in body or soul—­what could I do then?  Nothing, only bow my head and acknowledge that the arm of fate had reached me at last.  You cannot think what a dreadful time I had all alone here last evening.  I cried and prayed that vengeance might not fall on you and him—­the innocent—­but on me alone—­if all I have suffered up to now is not enough.  And then a woodpecker came and sat outside under the window, with its eerie tapping.  And a little after came a magpie croaking on the roof, like a chuckling fiend.  It made me shudder all over.  I dare say you will laugh at my weakness.  But it might be one of those mysterious threads of fate.  I have seen the like before—­and you know how ill and nervous I was ... at the time....  Now I have read your letter I feel calmer, but I know I shall not get over it altogether till I have seen him with my own eyes.  Forgive me for writing about this, but I had to tell you.  And I know it will not hurt you.