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-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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