The Song of the Blood-Red Flower Part 39

She was silent, but her face was eloquent with feeling still.

Olof went back to his place, took her hand and kissed it again and again, with tears, as if praying for forgiveness. For the first time he realised the inner meaning of his mother's nature as he knew it--the undertone of sadness in her gentle ways. And he could not free himself from a strange, inexplicable feeling of guilt in himself, though till that day he had known nothing of her secret.

"And for the man ... well, well, let him rest in peace! 'Twas not from any thought to soil his memory--but you're grown men now, my sons, and when you've wives of your own.... Ay, a good man he was in many ways, a clever worker. And I know he suffered himself for--for the other thing. He'll be judged, as we shall all be judged--we've all of us enough to answer for...."

For a long time the sick woman lay as if overwhelmed by stress of feeling, unable to speak. Olof, with tears in his eyes, sat deep in thought; the elder son had not moved.

"And now I can leave it to you," she went on more calmly. "'Tis all tied up, as I said, with thoughts of that time, ay, and hopes and prayers, all the best and the hardest in my life. And I'm not the only one that's had such things to bear through life. There's many a one the world knows nothing of, for a woman can bear a great sorrow and never speak of it. And I've heard since, that there was trouble of the same sort here in the house before my day.... Heaven grant I may be the last to suffer! And so I wanted you to take the thing between you--half to each--the scar's between them, so you'll share that too.

Remember it, and tell your children some time. And they can pa.s.s on the legacy to theirs--with all the hopes and prayers and tears it brought--only let the name be forgotten!"

All three looked earnestly at the grim heirloom that stood there reaching from floor to ceiling; it seemed to grow, as they watched, into a monument over the grave of many generations.

The sick woman turned anxiously to her sons.

"Will you take it?" she asked. "Will you take it, with all that it means...?"

Olof pressed her hand to his lips in answer. The elder brother sat motionless, as before, his eyelids trembled as if he were on the point of tears. His mother read his answer in his eyes.

"I'm glad it's over now," she said in relief. "And now I've no more to give you, but--my blessing!"

Her face lit with the same great gentleness that had softened it for years, she looked long and tenderly at her sons.

"Olof," she said at last, as if to wake him from his thoughts; "_it happened at the time before you were born_...."

The elder son looked at his mother in astonishment--why should she tell them what they had known all along?

But Olof looked up suddenly, as if he had heard something new and significant. The quiver in his mother's voice told him what she meant, the look in her eyes seemed to shed a light on what had been dark before.

Questioningly he looked at her, as if silently asking confirmation of his thought.

She nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I have often thought of that, these last sad years...."

Olof felt as if a mighty storm had suddenly torn away a dark, overshadowing growth, laying bare the heart of a fearsome place--deep clefts and stagnant pools and treacherous bogs.

"Ay, there's much that's hard to understand," she whispered in his ear. "But go to your work, now, sons. I'm tired now, leave me to rest...."

The young men rose and left the room. In the doorway they turned and cast a last glance at their mother, but she seemed no longer to heed them. She lay with her hands folded on her breast, gazing calmly at the old cupboard where it stood by the wall, like a monument above the grave of many generations.

THE HOUSE BUILDING

The funeral was over.

The two brothers sat by the window, in thoughtful mood, and speaking little.

"... And you'll take over the place now, of course," said Olof to his elder brother, "and work the farm as it's always been done since it's been in the family. 'Twon't be long, I doubt, before you bring home a wife to be mistress here.... Anyhow, I take it you'll go on as before?"

"What's in your mind now?" asked Heikki, with a little sharp cough.

"Only what I've said--that you'll take over Koskela now," said Olof cheerfully.

"H'm. You know well enough 'twas always meant that you were to take over the place--I'm not the sort to be master myself. Look after the men at their work--yes. But run the place by myself...."

"You'll soon get into the way of it," said Olof encouragingly. "And as to the men--I've an idea a farm's the better for a master that works with his men as you've always done, instead of going about talking big and doing nothing."

The elder brother cleared his throat again, and sat staring before him, drumming with his fingers on the edge of the chair.

"And what about you?" he asked, after a while.

"Oh, I'll look after myself all right. Build a bit of a house, and maybe turn up a patch of ground or so."

"Build a house...?" repeated the other in surprise.

"Yes. You see, brother, each goes his own way," went on Olof heavily.

"And I've a sort of feeling now that I can't live on anything out of the past. I must try and build up a life for myself, all anew. If I can do that, perhaps I may be able to go on living."

The elder brother stared with wide eyes, as if listening to words in a strange tongue. Then he began drumming with his fingers again.

"H'm. I don't know quite what you mean, but it's no business of mine, anyway." He spoke with a touch of respect in his voice, as if to a superior. "We'll have to do as you say. But do you think Koskela will be the same with none but me to look to it all?"

"Surely it will!" said Olof warmly.

"Why, then, have it as you please. But if things begin to go wrong here, then you'll have to take over yourself."

"I will if need be. But by the time you've ploughed this autumn you'll see yourself there will be no need. Good luck go with you, brother, and with the place."

"H'm." The elder brother coughed again. "And what about the price. We must fix that beforehand."

"What for? You take over the place as it stands, and you'll find it good enough. Give me the bit of marshland at Isosuo, and the oat fields adjoining, and the little copse that's fenced in with it, and that's all I want. You can let me take what timber I want from your part, for building and such."

"Ho, so you think that's fair, do you?" said his brother eagerly.

"A nice bit of ground--and there's all the clay you'll need ready to hand. But it'll cost a deal of hard work to drain and clear it--I've thought over that many a time. As for the building timber--you shall have all you want, and help for the carting. But all the same, we must fix a price for Koskela as a whole, and make a fair division."

"There's nothing to divide, I tell you. You take over the whole place, except the bit I've said. You see how it is: each of us wants to give more than the other's willing to take, so there's no need to quarrel about that. And if I want anything later on, I'll ask you for it; if there's anything you want, you'll come to your brother first."

"Well, well--I dare say it'll be all right. Anyhow, I'll do what I can to keep up Koskela as it's always been."

And the elder brother began once more drumming with his fingers, faster this time, and as it were more firmly.