-at the first haul. She'd gone down like a
stone to the bottom, just at the spot. But there was no getting her
to life again, try all we could. Just as beautiful to look at she was,
for all she was dead. Ay, a lovely thing, a lovely thing. We'd had to
undo her clothes a bit, trying to bring her round, and her skin--'twas
like white silk. Seemed almost a sin to touch her with our rough hands
and all...."
* * * * *
No one spoke for a while.
"And was it just for sorrow, like?" asked one at last.
"Ay, sorrow enough. But 'twas neither father nor mother she was
sorrowing for."
"Ah!... 'Twas a lover, then? Maybe she'd got into trouble."
"Nay, 'twas none of that sort. Just set on him--the young lad she'd
been sitting there with at first--and he'd left her, that was all."
The men sat in silence. Olof's heart was beating so that he almost
feared the rest must hear it. His eyelids quivered, and his brow was
furrowed deep as he sat staring into the fire.
"'Tis that way sometimes with fine folk when they're in love,"
murmured one.
"'Tis a woman's way altogether," put in another, with an attempt at
gaiety, as if to dispel the feeling of gloom. "Their heart's like a
flimsy fairing--little watch looks all right, but just shake it a bit,
and 'tis all to pieces."
"Maybe 'tis so with fine folk and ladies and such, but peasant girls
are not so foolish. More like a grandfather's clock, say. Anything
goes wrong, you've only to give it a shake, let it stop for an hour or
so, and shake it again, and scold it a bit--and it's as right as ever.
Go any way you like."
The men laughed--it was a relief to turn to something lighter.
"Ay, you're right there," put in a stout fellow with a loud voice.
"'Twas so with my old woman once when she was young. Got set on a bit
of a greenhorn chap, all soft as butter, and took it badly. But I saw
'twas no good for her nor anyone, and heaved him out of the way and
took her myself. And well I did, for she's never troubled a thought
about him since."
A shout of laughter went up from the men. They had recovered their
spirits now.
"Ay, you may laugh," said an elderly man. "But 'tis not every man
that troubles if what he thinks best is best for a woman herself."
He paused a moment, and sat cleaning his pipe with a straw. "There's
girls of our own sort that can't be handled that way to any good--and
there's both men and girls that don't take things so ligh
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