She made no resistance, but hid her troubled face
against his shoulder.

He pressed her closer. Through her thin blouse he could feel her
blood burning against his breast. He felt his senses going, a painful
weakness seemed to stifle him, as if only a violent movement could
give him breath. Feverishly he clenched his left hand, that was round
her waist; with his right beneath her chin he raised her head.

"Annikki!" he whispered, his lips still nearer. "Only one...."

She drew away, shaking her head, and looked at him reproachfully.

"How can you ask? You know--you know it wouldn't be right."

"Then you don't care for me, as you said!" he cried passionately, as
if accusing her of faithlessness.

The girl burst into tears, her slight shoulders quivering. The cluster
of flowers fell to the ground.

"My flowers ..." she cried.

A flush of shame burned in the young man's cheek. As if stricken
powerless, his hands loosed their hold, and he set the girl down by
his side.

She was trembling still. He gazed at her helplessly, as one who has
done wrong without intent.

"Annikki!" he said imploringly. "Forgive me, Annikki. I don't know
what made me do it. If you only knew how sorry I am."

The girl looked up, smiling through her tears. "I know--I know you
would never try to hurt me."

"And you'll be just the same now--as if nothing had happened--will
you?"

He took her hand, and his eyes sought hers. And trustingly she gave
him both.

"May I put them there again?" he asked shyly, picking up the flowers
from the ground.

The girl laughed; the blossom laughed.

"And then I must go--mother is waiting."

"Must you?"

They rose to their feet, and he fastened the blossoms at her breast.

"How good you are!" he said, with a sense of unspeakable joy and
thankfulness.

"And you too.... Good-bye, Olof."

"Good-bye--fairy!"

He stood in the clearing, watching her as she went, till the last
glimpse of her had vanished between the trees.

She turned round once, and the red flowers in her white blouse burned
like the glow of the setting sun on a white cloud.

"I'll fell no more to-day," said the youth, and sat down on a fallen
tree, with his head in his hands.

GAZELLE

"My love is like a strawberry sweet,
Strawberry sweet, strawberry sweet.
I'll dance with her when next we meet,
Next we meet, next we meet!"

The song came as a welcome from the playing-fields of the village
as Ol