sat down on the sofa.
"It seems too great a thing to be possible, somehow."

"But it is," said Kyllikki. "And do you know what I think? That
forgiveness is a greater thing than punishment--and Life knows it!"

He nodded, and pressed her hand.

Again he glanced at the little red face on the pillow, and an
expression of earnestness, almost of gloom, came over his own.

"Olof," said Kyllikki softly, taking his hand, "will you tell me what
you are thinking of just now?"

He did not answer at once.

"No, no--you need not tell me. I know. But why think of that now,
Olof? And you know--he at least, has a father and mother who have
learned something of life; maybe he will not need to go through all we
have done to get so far...."

"Ay, that was what I was thinking," said Olof.

And no more was said, but heartfelt wishes hovered protectingly about
the little bed.

* * * * *

"Look now!" cried Kyllikki, after a while. "He's fallen asleep! Isn't
he lovely?"

And warm sunshine seemed to fill the room--even to its darkest corner.

"Olof?" said Kyllikki, with a questioning glance towards the door of
the adjoining room.

His face lit up, and together they stole on tiptoe to the door; Olof
opened it, and Kyllikki stood on the threshold, looking into the
little room--it was newly papered, and looked larger and brighter than
before.

She turned and took his hand--her eyes told him all she thought and
felt.

He put his arm round her waist, and his eyes lit with a sudden gleam
of recollection.

"I told you once," he said dreamily, as they walked back into the
sitting-room, "how sister Maya came to call me home, when I was still
wandering about from place to place."

"Yes, I remember; it was so beautiful, Olof--I shall never forget."

"And how we came home after, and began...."

They had reached the window now. "Look!" said Olof suddenly, pointing
out.

Down in the valley lay the marsh of Isosuo, spreading away almost
immeasurably on every side. At the edge of the water two big channels
were being cut, in front were a host of workmen clearing timber, while
others behind them dug the channels in the soil. It was like the march
of two great armies towards the land of the future. The setting sun
cast its red glow over the powerful shoulders of the men as they
worked, here and there a spade or an axe flashed for a moment; the
water in the dykes glittered like silver, and the moist eart