Part 37 (1/2)

He reached the top of a rise from which the road sloped down to the valley. And here he stopped, as if set to go no farther.

Before him spread the landscape of the valley; green woods encircled it on every hand, like a protecting fence about a pleasure-garden.

Within the area enclosed were mounds and hilly fields, stretches of meadow, farmsteads, rows of corn-sheaves and haystacks, patches of stubble, a tiny stream with a bridge and a fall, and mills on either bank.

A thrill of emotion seized the wanderer at sight of it all; one glance let loose a flood of memories and thoughts of things long since forgotten.

All seemed as before. He looked at the stream, and followed the line of its course with his eye. The mills stared at one another from bank to bank, as they had always done since the beginning of time. But the mills themselves had changed. The old wooden structures were gone, and in place of them stood modern stone-walled buildings.

A lightning thought came into his mind: was there _anything_ that was unchanged, though the setting seemed as it had been? What might not have happened in the little place during those years?

The wanderer felt uneasy at the thought. Here he was--but who could say what he would find here, now he had come?

Slowly, with heavy steps, he took his way down towards the village.

And ever as he neared it, his uneasiness increased.

He came to a turn in the way. From just beyond came the tinkle of a bell, and, as he rounded the bend, he saw a flock of sheep grazing, and a fair-haired lad watching the flock.

The sight gladdened his heart--the sheep and the shepherd lad at least were as he had hoped to find them.

”Good-day!” he said heartily. ”And whose lad are you, little man?”

”Just Stina's boy,” answered the young herdsman easily, from his seat by the wayside.

”Ho, are you? ... yes.” The wanderer stepped across the ditch, sat down by the wayside, and lit his pipe.

”And what's the news in the place? I've been here before, d'ye see, and used to know it well. But 'tis long since I heard anything from these parts.”

”News?... H'm.” The lad felt a pleasant sense of importance at being thus asked, and stepped down from his seat. ”Well, you've heard, maybe, 'twas Mattila's Tytto won the first prize at the cattle show?”

”You don't say so? Mattila's Tytto?” echoed the stranger, with a laugh. ”And what else?”

”Why, there's no more that I know of--let me see....” The wise little eyes grew thoughtful. ”Oh, I forgot. Yes, Maya, she's married, and they're building a bit of a place over by the clearing there.

Shoemaker, he was, and a good match, they say.”

”I see. That'll be the place. Looks as good as could be.”

”'Tis a fine place. Going to have a real stove, with a baking oven and all.... Then there's been another wedding besides, at Niemi--Annikki's it was. Only just married--though there's been plenty that asked her these years past, and rich men some of them too.”

”Yes....” The wanderer felt as if something had struck him in the breast. Impatiently he went on:

”And how's things at Koskela?”

”Koskela--well, old man there he died last spring, and they say....”

”Died?” A heavier stroke this; it seemed to paralyse him.