s it--tell me, Olof...?"

"That--that you do not despise me, but trust me, that you believe I
only care to be yours."

"Trust you?--indeed I do," said Kyllikki. "I know we are both striving
toward the same end. But there are enemies that are always on the
watch. We must beat them--and we will! And I am yours--all yours--as
the night when you said good-bye to Kohiseva. And you are mine--all
mine ... and then, Olof--then it will come--the one thing I must have
to live for...."

OUT OF THE PAST

"KIRKKALA, 7 _May_ 1899."

"Dearest,--You will not be angry because I write to you? How could
you, you who are so good! I would not have written, but I must, for
there is so much to tell you. It is spring now, as it was then, and it
has brought with it such a longing that I must turn to you, speak to
you--and then I can wait again till next spring. You must have known
that I have been with you--surely you felt it? And now here I am,
having learned by chance where you are.

"Do you remember the story I told you? About the girl and her lover
and the mark on her breast? And what I asked for then, and you gave
me? I have often wondered since whether, perhaps, you might have
misunderstood it all--when I was so serious and thoughtful about
it--if you thought I was not certain of myself, not sure that I should
always be yours, as I wished to be. But it was not so, dear Olof; I
knew myself well enough even then, though not so deeply as I do now.
How strong and deep love is! I read once in a poem--surely you know it
too:

"'The lightning stroke falls swifter than breath,
But the tree that is struck bears the mark till its death.'"

And so it is--there is no more to add; it is as if written by the
finger of God. And so it must be, or what would our love be worth?

"But it is not all who understand it, even the half. Human beings are
so strange--wondering and asking always--people ask, for instance, why
I am always so lonely.... They cannot see that I am not lonely at all.

"Olof, if you knew all I have felt and suffered in these years! I
hardly know if I dare tell you. But I must--I only turn to you now
to say it all, so that I may feel easier after. I have longed for you
so--more than I can ever say; I wonder how I have been able to live
at all. Olof, Olof, do not look at me! I have only come to whisper
a little in your ear.... I have had such dreadful thoughts. As if
someone were always behind me whispering, 'Loo