"And how should I be? You did not care for them. The one you have been
waiting for--was he to be like them? Answer, dark-eyed Pansy-flower."
She clasped his wrist with both her hands, and drew herself closer to
him.
"And I have been waiting," he whispered tenderly, "for whom, do you
think? For one of the others? I have seen more than I can count--but
the moment I saw you, I knew who it was you were waiting for, and who
it was I sought."
The girl moved uneasily. There was a sound of footsteps outside, and
shadows moved behind the curtains of the window.
"Oh!" she whispered, shrinking in fear.
"Is that some of them?" asked the young man calmly.
"Yes. Oh, hide yourself, hide somewhere--they light matches outside
sometimes, and look in."
"I'll not move a step for any of them," he said resolutely, folding
his arms. "Don't be afraid, little one, there's nothing to fear."
A dark shadow climbed up outside. There was a scraping sound, and a
light shone into the room for a moment.
"There he is--sitting there as if he was master of the house!" The
shadow sprang down again.
A low murmur was heard outside, and footsteps receding.
A moment later, the whispering voices were heard again, and steps
approaching. Then something heavy was flung against the door with a
crash.
"There! Sleep well, my dears!" cried a scornful voice outside. A
chorus of laughter followed, the footsteps died away, and all was
still.
The young man rose to his feet. "The brutes!" he muttered, trembling
with anger. He sprang to the door, lifted the latch, and threw his
weight against it. The door did not move. His blood boiled, and again
he flung himself against the door. It creaked under the shock, but the
bar outside held fast.
"I heard who it was, anyhow," he said significantly. "I'll have a word
to say to some of them to-morrow."
"Oh," cried the girl, "now everyone will know--and we can't even get
out now."
"Don't be afraid, dear. If one way's barred, I'll soon find another."
He walked to the window, and pressed hard against the frame. The nails
gave way, and the woodwork hung loose.
"There! We can get out that way now. I'll take care of the
flowers--and I'll see those fellows hold their tongues--never fear."
Self-possessed and smiling, he came back to the bedside. "You poor
little thing, so easily scared! Not afraid now, are you?"
"No--not now you're here again."
"Why," said he gaily, "don't you see? It had to come like this--or
else--it would have been just like--any of the others!"
They both laughed, and the girl looked up at him through her tears. A
faint light of dawn showed through from without.
"And you haven't heard it all yet. I'll tell you--it's all different
from anything else--right from the beginning. I came here a way you'd
never dream--by way of the river, and past the jaws of death."
"What--what do you mean?"
And he told her what had passed among the rapids that night, when the
floating timber jammed against the Whirlstone Rock.
"And then we get locked in here, to make it unlike anything else all
through. And that's how I love you, Pansy--so that I have to come
to you through the rapids at night, and stay with you behind barred
doors. But _are_ you mine, my own? You haven't said so yet."
"Am I? Oh, Olof, how can you ask!" And she twined her arms lovingly
round his neck.
* * * * *
The growing flush of dawn stole through the curtains, spreading a
faint gleam of rose on the girl's white arms.
"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.
Down on the shore below the rapids stood a group of men, young fellows
from the village, who came down at times to earn a little extra by
keeping watch over the timber at night.
Olof cast his eyes over the group, and his pleasant feeling of
contentment vanished. He felt himself weighed down as by a burden.
But a little while since, he had lifted the heavy beam they had set
against the door of a girl's room, and carried it back to the barn,
the weight seeming as nothing to him in his gladness. But now....
"A single word, a look, would be enough. But if they just go on as if
nothing had happened--what can I do?"
A dark flush burned in his cheeks as he approached the group; he
glanced about him guardedly under his brows.
The men made no sign.
Olof picked up his pole from the grass, and began slowly wiping off
the dew, eyeing the men watchfully as he did so.
They stood about, apparently unconcerned.
He bit his lips. Was he to let it pass off like this?
He walked past them, with a burning glance.
As he did so, a low laugh was heard on the edge of the group.
Next moment came the sound of a heavy blow, and the jester measured
his length on the grass.
"You--what's that for? Who d'you think you are, young devil's brat,
what?" Two men came at him with a rush.
Olof gripped the first by the collar and crutch, and flung him head
foremost through the air. Then, taking the other as swiftly, he lifted
him high overhead, and threw him down like a crumpled rag.
"You swine--you filthy brutes!" His voice quivered with rage, his
eyes burned like fire, and he raised his clenched fists threateningly.
"Come on, the lot of you; I've more to settle with you yet."
There was an angry murmur from the crowd, but it died away as a calm,
manly voice spoke up:
"Seems to me, young man, you've settled fairly enough already for a
bit of fun and no harm meant. And if you're as good a man as I take
you for, you'll see yourself 'twas not done the way you seem to take
it. We've all been sort of proud of that little lass, and till now
there's never one of us passed through her door, though there's many
that would if they could. And when a bit of a chap from God knows
where comes along, and he's found sitting in there like her lord and
master...."
"And what's that to you?" Olof stepped forward threateningly.
"Quiet, lad, you've no call to shout," went on the other calmly. "I'm
not meaning to quarrel with you. We've known that girl, I say, since
we were youngsters together, and you're a stranger here. And it's
like to do her harm. Leave her alone, I say, and don't go making her
a byword in folk's mouths, for the sake of one that comes and goes so
light and easy as you."
"Stranger, you say?" Olof crossed his arms defiantly. "You know who
I am well enough. And you're the men to talk of a girl's honour to
me--you that hang about outside her window at night--a nice lot to
protect her! Mark my words, the lot of you. I go where I please, if
'twas to a princess in a palace. And I'll go the way I went last night
as long as I'm here in the place. And as sure as I stand here, if one
of you shows his head outside that window, or dares to say a coarse
word--ay, or so much as a look to hurt her, I'll thrash him till he
can't stand on his feet."
He turned and walked proudly up the hill. The men gazed after him
without a word.