""Twas so with my old woman once when she was young. Got set on a bit of a greenhorn chap, all soft as b.u.t.ter, and took it badly. But I saw "twas no good for her nor anyone, and heaved him out of the way and took her myself. And well I did, for she"s never troubled a thought about him since."
A shout of laughter went up from the men. They had recovered their spirits now.
"Ay, you may laugh," said an elderly man. "But "tis not every man that troubles if what he thinks best is best for a woman herself."
He paused a moment, and sat cleaning his pipe with a straw. "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.
"I know one man at least," he went on, "that loved a girl when he was young, and couldn"t marry her. He didn"t go off and kill himself--but it marked him, none the less, for all he was only a peasant himself.
Sold his place, he did, and drank away the money, and wandered about the rest of his life to this day--and never forgotten her."
The old man was silent.
"Ay, "tis plain to see she"s in his mind now that he"s old and grey,"
said one who had pointed to the speaker before.
The old man bowed his head, and pulled his cap down over his eyes; but they could see a quiver in his face, and the bra.s.s-bound pipe-stem trembled in his hand.
The men exchanged glances; none seemed wishful to speak.
"Ay, "tis no light thing to play with," said one at last. "And each knows best what he"s learned for himself."
Again a sighing of the trees on the hillside, and a mournful sound from the straining stems. The coming dawn threw a grey light on the rocky face of Neitokallio; far over the meadows a bird was calling.
"Getting light--"tis time we were about," said Olof, rising to his feet.
The men stared at him in wonder; his voice was strange and hard as that of the old man who had spoken before.
"Up with you--come!" said Olof, with sudden impatience. And, turning abruptly, he strode down to the sh.o.r.e.
The men stared after him, then, rising, covered their fire, and followed down to the river.
HAWTHORN
No! I must live while I am young; breathe freely while I can! But you, Hawthorn--do you know what life is?"
"Yes," the girl answered fervently; "it is love!"
"It is something else besides. Youth and spring and courage--and fate, that brings the children of men together."
"Yes...? I wonder why I never thought of that myself."
"What does it matter what we think? We drift along, knowing nothing of one another, like the errant winds or the stars in the skies. We pa.s.s by hundreds, without so much as a glance, until fate as in a lightning flash brings us face to face with the one appointed. And then--in a moment we know that we belong to each other, we are drawn together by magnetic force--for good or ill."
"I have felt the same--and I feel it more keenly now than ever,"
answered the girl, nestling trustingly close to him. "Each minute in your arms is worth more than all the rest of my life before."
"And you are to me as the sap of the trees in spring, that thrills me with ecstasy and makes me forget all else. And I _will_ feel it so!--drown my sad autumn and my joyless winter in the delight of spring. And I bless the fate that led you to me--there is none like you!"
"None?" the girl repeated happily, and yet in doubt. "Oh, if only I could be as you think."
"You are so! Every drop of blood in you is love and fire. The lightest touch of your shoe against my foot is more than the warmest embrace from any other--your breath is like a secret caress; you bring a scent of hawthorn with you everywhere that lifts me almost to madness."
"Do not talk like that, Olof. I am nothing--it is you that are all.
Tell me--are all lovers as happy as we?"
"No."
"Why not? Is it because they--they can"t love as we do?"
"They _dare_ not! They fear to be happy. Oh, how blind the world is!
Wandering sadly with prayer, book and catechism in hand, when love and spring are waiting for all who will. And those who have grown old, when their blood is as lead in their veins, and they can but gaze with beggars" eyes on their own youth--they would have us too slaves of the prayer book and catechism like themselves."
"Is it really so...?"
"Yes, it is true. Only while we are young, only while the flood of youth runs free and bright in our veins can we be happy. And they are the greatest who dare to demand their share of life in full, to plunge unafraid into the waters, letting the waves break on their temples and life"s salt flood wash their cheeks."
"And have I dared all this, Olof? Tell me, have I not?"
"Yes, you have. And it is just that which makes you lovely and bewitching as you are. It is a glorious thing to give oneself lip entirely to another, without question, without thought of return or reckoning--only to bathe body and soul in the deep wells of life!"
"Yes, yes.... And, do you know, Olof...?" The girl spoke earnestly, with a quiver in her voice.
"What? Tell me?"
But she could say no more, and, bursting into tears, hid her burning cheek against his breast, her body shaking with sobs.
"What--child, you are crying? What is it?"
"I don"t know...." The girl was sobbing still. "Only that I can"t--can"t give you all I would."
"But you have given me more than I ever dared to hope for!"
"Not so much as I gladly would! Why do you not ask more of me? Tell me to die with you, and I am ready--I could die by fire with you. Or take my life now, here, this moment...."
The fire of her increasing pa.s.sion seemed to have sent out a spark that glowed and burned in his soul.
"How can you speak so?" he asked, almost in dread. "It is madness, child."
"Madness--yes. But if you knew how I love you.... Say but one word and I will leave home--father and mother and all--and follow you like a beggar girl from place to place."
"And never care what people said?"
"Care? Why should I care for them? What do they know of love?"