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