“How could you know!” he cried, in pleased surprise.  His fear was gone now, and he felt only a wonderful depth of happiness at hearing the girl speak so tenderly of his mother.

“’Tis only guessing.  But do you know—­I should so like to see her, your mother, that....”

“That...?”

“Only ... only, I should like to see her so.  Then I’d put my arms round her neck and ...  Olof, did your mother often kiss you?”

“No.  Not often.”

“But she stroked your hair, and often talked with you all alone, I know.”

“Yes ... yes.”

His arms loosed their hold of the girl, and almost unconsciously he thrust her a little away, staring out into the distance with a faint smile on his lips and deepest earnest in his eyes.

The girl looked at him wonderingly.

“What is it?” she asked anxiously, as if fearing to have hurt him.  But he did not seem to hear, only stood looking out at nothing as before.

“Olof—­what is it?” she asked again, in evident distress.

“Only—­it was only my mother speaking to me all alone,” he answered in a low voice.

“Oh!” The girl sighed deeply.  “Now—­was it just now she spoke?”

He nodded.

The girl glanced at him and hesitated.  “Won’t you—­won’t you tell me what she said?” she asked timidly.

“She told me it was wrong—­a sinful wrong even to ask you....”

The girl gazed at him for a long time without speaking; the tenderness in her eyes grew to unutterable depths.

“Oh,” she whispered at last, very softly, “if she only knew how I love her now—­your mother!  I never loved her so before.”  And she clasped her arms round his neck.

THE RAPIDS

The rapids at Kohiseva are well known; none so well known, nor so ill famed, in all the length of Nuoli River.

And the homestead at Moisio is a well-known place, for they are a stubborn race that hold it; for generations past the masters of Moisio have been known among their neighbours as men of substance, and hard in their dealings to boot—­unswerving and pitiless as the waters of Kohiseva.

The daughter at Moisio is well known too; none carries her head so high, and a tender glance from her eyes is more than any of the young men round can boast of having won.

Kyllikki is her name—­and no one ever had such a name—­at least, folk say there’s no such name in the calendar.

* * * * *

The lumbermen’s rearguard had come to Kohiseva.  They came by night, and here they were at their first day’s work there now.  Some were still busy floating the last of the timber down; others were clearing the banks of lumber that had driven ashore.

It was evening, and the men were on their way to their quarters in the village.

In the garden at Moisio a young girl was watering some plants newly set.