Olof felt his eyelids quivering, warm drops fell on his cheek. He rose and stepped softly to her side.
"Kyllikki," he whispered entreatingly, "have you forgiven me—everything?"
"Yes, everything," she answered, smiling through her tears, and threw her arms round his neck. "It was childish of me to cry."
Gratefully, and with a new delight, he pressed her to his heart….
* * * * *
"Olof, don't put out the light yet—let it burn till the morning."
Kyllikki lay stretched on the sofa. Olof nodded, and laid himself down with his head in her lap and his feet on a chair by the side.
And two pairs of darkly glistening eyes fell to whispering together, like lonely stars in a dark autumn sky, while the earth sighed through the gloom.
THE SOMNAMBULIST
Olof was a sleep-walker, though he never dared to confess it even to himself. There was something mysterious and terrifying in the thought.