CHAPTER XVI
TESSIBEL'S SECRET
Tessibel Skinner had been married to Frederick Graves for six long weeks: She had become somewhat accustomed to the deception practiced on Daddy Skinner, and Frederick was constantly allaying her fears and misgivings by telling her that she belonged to him now; that she was his darling, his joy, the better part of his life. Many times he assured her between kisses that it wouldn't be necessary to keep the marriage secret long. Each day, each hour, each minute, the girl-wife basked in the thought of her young husband's love. She unfolded the hidden beauties of her nature to him as spontaneously as the opening flower responds to the genial warmth of the rising sun.
Early one morning Tessibel arose, a new light shining in her eyes.
Because Daddy Skinner was still abed, she started to the shore for water. It was a glad, shining, diamond-studded earth that greeted the view of the expectant girl; there was wonderful stillness everywhere, and for some minutes she stood contemplating the scene before her. South from the Hog Hole to the northern curve at Lansing, the lake was dappled, its surface broken here and there by little capfuls of breeze, which dimpled in the light, while the smooth spots reflected the blazing glory of the morning sun. The leaves of the weeping willow tree swept the rapt, upraised face, and Tess drew down about her head and shoulders one of the thickest branches. These century-old trees were really a vital part of her life--old loves to Tessibel, loves that had kept watch over her since the day of her birth in the shanty.
[Illustration: "I WAS WONDERIN', LITTLE ONE, WHEN YOU SAY YOUR PRAYERS, IF YOU'D PIPE ONE FOR ME"]
A brilliant flame flooded her face.... Frederick stood with her in spirit nearness. What she would tell him that evening would be whispered so low that not even the nesting birds could hear. She imagined the tenderness with which he'd clasp her in his arms, and thrilled, visualizing the darkening of his eyes. Tessibel was painting pictures--her exalted soul running the gamut of joy.
What a wonder-world it was! What a glad, peaceful, new day, her first real day of living--the beginning of life itself; Frederick's life and her life! Now, of course, he would tell his mother they were married--would take her to Daddy Skinner, and--and--She could plan no farther just then. Her whole being was God-lifted. Even the waves lapping at her feet seemed to speak the language of a world to come.
She dipped the pail into the lake slowly, filling it with water. Then with a last sweeping glance over the golden-tinted waves, she returned to the shanty. Daddy Skinner by this time was seated in his chair, his grey face wearing an expression of misery.
"Ye air sicker this morning, honey, huh?" asked Tess anxiously, lifting the pail to the table.
"Yep, brat, awful sick, but mebbe I'll feel better after a while."
"Yer coffee'll be ready quicker'n scat, dear," said the girl. "Flop on my bed an' stretch out a minute. Tessibel'll get her daddy's breakfast."
Five minutes later she had fried the fish and made the coffee.
"I air goin' to give Daddy his eatin's first, Andy," she called up through the hole in the ceiling.
"All right; sure, do, kid," assented the dwarf.
Daddy Skinner gradually felt better, and during the morning Tessibel's youthful spirits rose by leaps and bounds. All through the day she warbled out her happiness, lovingly bantering the two crippled men. Thus the minutes crept on to eventide, to that hour on the ragged rocks with Frederick.
She left the shanty early, that she might commune undisturbed for a time with her dear wild world. Through the gloaming the dull sound of the cow bells came distinctly from Kennedy's farm. The roosters were crowing a last good-night to the sun. The monstrous shadows of the great forest trees were going to sleep in the earth for another night. While the daylight was fading, the girl sat relaxed against the rocks, her unfathomable eyes contemplating the purple-spanned lake. She had drifted into a reverie ... blissfully dreaming, with Frederick the foremost figure of her dreams. The solemn descent of night ever signified the mystery of his love to her. Now, from the fullness of her unalloyed joy, she glanced up at the sky and blessed the whole world. In imagination she deciphered the words the stars were forming. Stretched from pole to pole, they lettered the heavens with the wonders of infinitude. In a diadem of gold, "God is love" was written; from the unsearchable north to the south where in their turn the slender rimming clouds sent it on to the world beyond. "God is love," whispered the swaying trees, and "God is love" came softly to the ear of the sensitive girl, as an echo is flung back from the rocks and is sent home to its maker.
And even as Tess dreamed, the passion stars in their invisible courses bent toward her. Impulsively she lifted her arms upward toward those twinkling participants of her secret, emblems of the immeasurable glory of her love for Frederick. By a simple turn, she could see the tree of her old-time fancies, the familiar figure in the tall pine, with swaying, majestic head and beckoning arms.
At that moment, she perceived Frederick making his way along the ragged rocks. She could hear her heart's blood pulsing madly, striking at her wrists, throbbing at her temples, making a race the length of her quivering body. Now, she could see him plainly in the dim light, and a smile deepened the dimple at each corner of her mouth. An indefinable shyness kept her from running to him to tell her glad tidings. But what made him walk so slowly and with hanging head? It wasn't like Frederick.
Something unusual had happened or he would not lag so in coming to her.
She was even more mystified at the peculiarity of his greeting. With nerves as tautly drawn as fiddle strings, she remained very still. In his own time he would tell her all about it. She lifted her arms, but Frederick, unheeding, sank to the rocks beside her. She laid her hand on his, expressing her love to him by the simple contact.
"Don't!" he said shortly. He drew away from the caressing fingers impatiently. "I've come to tell you something."
"Well, here I air," answered Tess, quietly.
There was an exquisite tenderness in the young voice. In the white light of the early evening Tessibel could see Frederick's brows fiercely drawn together. Probably his mother was worse and that accounted for the change in him. She became instantly all devotion.
"Air ye goin' to tell me about it, honey?" she entreated softly. "It'll make ye feel better.... Tell Tessibel."
He turned away, and moved nervously until his shoulders were fitted into a rock cavity; then, he dropped his head back with a prolonged sigh. It was even more difficult than he had imagined.
"Of course I needn't tell you ... that I love you, need I, Tess?" he stammered, after a while.
He could not assure her too many times of his affection. She leaned against him, adoring, wrapped in the delight of his love as a water lily is wrapped in its green sepals.
"I know it, dearest!" she murmured, much moved. "Ye tell me that every day. But what else air ye--"
"You'll forgive me, and not be ... too unhappy?" Frederick interrupted her anxiously.
Unhappy, while her whole being was transfused with ecstasy! Unhappy, when his life and hers intermingled in one glad, glorious song of inseparable unity! There never could be a diminution of her joy.
Frederick loved her! That was enough.
"There ain't nothin' I wouldn't forgive," she vowed, misty-eyed.
"But, Tess, I feel as though you won't forgive me this," sighed Frederick. "But if you'll promise me--"
"I do--I will," she interjected, sitting up. "Why, of course, I'd forgive ye anything."
Frederick dared not look at her. Even in the twilight he could feel her eyes searching his face for an explanation.
"I need you to help me, Tessibel," he said at length.
Help him! Hadn't she ever been ready to help him? He had but to ask her.
She dropped her head against his arm again.
"Tell Tessibel," she urged, smiling.
One slender, girlish arm slipped lovingly about him. A set of small fingers took his cold hand in a firm grasp.
"Tess loves ye, dear," came soothingly. "Now tell 'er, an' then ye'll be happier."
Shame rose rampant in the boy's breast.
"I can't do it," he muttered under his breath.
But he knew all the time he would. The events of yesterday, culminating with Waldstricker's brilliant offer, closed every other path. He groaned, catching his lips tensely between his teeth. Some one had to suffer, but the sacrifice must not touch his mother nor estrange the Waldstrickers. That Madelene would be wronged by his action gave him little concern. But at that moment to hurt the girl at his side; oh, how he hated the bitter necessity! Conscious of the despicable part he was playing, but having really decided, he drew himself from the girl's arms. To gain a little more time, he thrust his fingers several times through his damp hair.
"Tess," he hesitated, "you've promised you'd never tell about our being married."
An encouraging touch turned the boy's twitching face to hers.
"An' I ain't never goin' to till ye let me," she asserted soothingly.
"Ye ain't lettin' that worry ye, darlin', eh?"
She encouraged him to answer by the tender cadence on the end of her question.