"No—no. What then?" From the tone of her voice he knew she had something important to say.
"There was just an old story that came into my mind—may I tell it to you, now?"
"Yes, yes, do," said Olof, with a sense of relief. "You are the only girl I have ever met who could tell fairy tales—and make them up yourself too."
"This is not one I made up myself. I heard it long ago," she answered.
"Well, and how does it begin?" said Olof briskly, taking her hands.
"'Once upon a time…'?"
"Yes, those are the very words. Once upon a time there was a boy—and a girl. And they loved each other—especially the girl. No words could ever tell how she loved him." She looked at Olof as if to see the effect of what she had said.
"That begins well. Go on," said Olof. But a thought was slowly taking form in his mind.
"And they sat in the woods, under the tall birches, and talked of how happy they were. But the girl could not have the boy for her own—they had to say good-bye. He had to go away, and she knew she would never see him again."
Olof looked thoughtful—the fancy was taking root. "Go on—what happened then?"
"Then, just as he was going away, the girl said to him, 'Set a mark on me somehow, so that I shall always feel I belong to you, and no one can tear you from my heart.'