Olof turned—the girl looked inquiringly at him.
"Go! Take her—be off with you both!" cried her father, beyond himself. "Ay, you're hard," he went on, to the girl, "hard and obstinate as the rest of our blood ever were, too hard for your woman's clothes! And as for you, I hope you can keep a wife now you've got her. Of all the cursed…."
The young pair flushed, but they stood still, unable to move.
"Get your things on," said the old man impatiently. "And you—sit down."
A sudden wave of shame came over the girl; snatching up her clothes, she fled into the next room.
The master of Moisio walked slowly to the window and sat down heavily, a beaten man. Olof felt a thrill of pity for the old man.
They sat for a few moments in silence; then Kyllikki entered once more, blushing still, glanced hastily at Olof, and sat down, watching her father's face.
At last the old man turned. The scene had left its mark on him, but there was dignity still in his glance as he looked Olof full in the face.
"You've made yourself my son-in-law," he said, "though 'twas no wish of mine it should be so. But we may as well start with a clear understanding. 'Tis our way here to say what's to be said at once, or give a blow where it's needed—and have done with it."
"'Tis no bad way," said Olof, hardly knowing what he was saying. "My father's way was much the same."