A week after the arrival of Frederick and Madelene Graves in Ithaca, Tessibel Skinner sat sewing near the kitchen stove and talking to Andy Bishop in the shanty garret. Outside the wind gusted over the lake, the snow birds making shrill, protesting twitters against the coming blizzard.

"You ain't mournin' 'bout somethin', kiddie, be ye?" whispered the dwarf from the hole in the ceiling.

"A little," she confessed, glancing up at the dwarf, while she knotted the thread. "I air jest thinking how awful it air fer Daddy to sleep so hard. That medicine he takes must be awful strong."

"So it air, brat, but he don't suffer," comforted Andy.

"Get back, Andy," warned Tess, getting up. "Some one air walkin' in the lane."

She could hear the steps plainly, now. Whoever it was paused in front of the shack. When the knock came, she placed her sewing on the chair. With a glance at the attic, she walked forward and took down the bar. The opening door revealed Frederick Graves standing in the falling snow.

"I've come back, Tess," he breathed brokenly.

The girl staggered back speechless to the middle of the room. Dismayed eyes sought Frederick's, eloquently demanding a reason for his coming. The boy followed her swiftly in and closed the door. How ill she looked! God, could it have been his own conduct that had made Tessibel so fragile! He had promised to love and cherish her forever. The thought that he could revivify her by the very strength of his overflowing love took him forward a step. Tess looked helplessly about and retreated a little.

"Daddy's sick," she murmured.

"I'm sorry. I'm very sorry, dear.... I had to see you, Tessibel," cried Frederick, passionately. "I hurried back from abroad because of you, my darling.... Oh, Tess dear—"

Tessibel made a dissenting gesture.

"Please go away," said she, in agitation. "Go away, please."

Instead of obeying her, the boy came nearer.

"I can't go!" he answered hoarsely, running his fingers through his thick hair. "I've suffered horribly for what I've done.... Tess, don't make me suffer any more—Oh, darling, please understand—"

"I air understandin'," interrupted Tess, steadying herself. "Ye can't do nothin' now.... Won't ye please go?"

"No," replied Frederick, setting his teeth sharply. "No, I won't! I came to tell you what I want you to do."

Tessibel sank into the chair, her legs refusing to hold her up any longer. Frederick was looking down at her sorrowfully. How could he ever have left her? His excuse about his mother's needing money now seemed small and unimportant. How like a glorious golden mantle her curls encompassed her! A spasmodic desire to twine them again around his fingers gripped him. He wanted to take her in his arms, to love her, to be loved in return, as she had loved him on the ragged rocks. How beautiful she was—yet how frail and worn! It seemed as if the ice that had warped and frozen his heart to a hard, unresponsive mass, during the months with Madelene, was melting in the presence of the girl he loved. His soul had thirsted for the sight of her, his arms yearned to hold and press her close. He stood a moment undecided, then suddenly bent forward and drew her forcibly to him. Groaning deeply, he dropped his hot lips upon her neck, and Tessibel started back as if he'd stung her.

"If you look at me so cold and white, Tess," he moaned, "I shall—I'll—"

Then he sought for her lips and found them, kissing her stormily until she felt a keen sense of terror and physical pain. His passionate insistence carried her completely out of herself for the instant.

"Tess, Tess!" he murmured, "nothing matters now! Don't send me away from you again, sweet."

Tess lay in his arms, mute and unresponsive.

"Say one little kind word to me, Tess," he implored again, brokenly.

But Tess couldn't speak. She felt her tongue burn as if infinitesimal sparks had touched each groove upon it. She could not stay in his arms! Before the world he belonged to another woman. She pushed him away, drew herself from his embrace, and sat down again. Her action brought a fierce ejaculation from the boy's lips.

When Frederick ordered his horse that morning, Madelene had slipped her hand into his.

"May I go with you, dear?" she begged. "Do order my horse, too, won't you?"

He colored to the roots of his hair and shrugged his shoulders impatiently.

"I'd rather go by myself," he returned so curtly that Madelene bit her lips to keep back the tears.

Stung with jealousy, the young wife watched her husband ride out under the bare trees to the road beyond. Then she ordered her own horse, and dressed herself quickly.

Affairs between the young couple had reached a crucial point. Madelene's suspicions of Frederick were unusually active. She had it clearly in mind that he had gone to the Skinner hut. All the distance to the lake her face burned. She knew well enough she was doing something unpardonable, but how could she stay calmly at home when stinging jealousy goaded her to action?

She cantered past Kennedy's farm and on down the hill, her thoughts in a turmoil. If Frederick were not with the squatter girl, how happy she'd be! She hadn't formulated an excuse for Tessibel if she found her suspicions incorrect. She'd have to tell her something reasonable. Ah, she would pretend she'd come about the church singing.

Beyond and below the lake lay grey and somber, shadowed by the winter sky. The wind stung her face and tweaked her fingers through her warm gloves. Directly in front of the Young house, she reined in her horse and contemplated it. How much had happened since she had married Frederick, and Ebenezer had married Helen Young—how much to her and to him!

Frederick's conduct had destroyed her illusions about marriage. She could be supremely happy if he would treat her a little more as if she were his wife, more as the husbands of her friends treated them. She rode on again slowly until through the willow trees she saw the smoke curling upward from the chimney of the Skinner shanty. Her heart beat furiously when she slipped from her horse and tied him to a fence post. Intuitively, she felt she'd find her husband with Tessibel Skinner. She walked the rest of the way down the hill, stopped before the hut and looked it over. All without lay dressed in its winter garb, and the small house, save for the smoke, appeared uninhabited.

Then as a human sound from a tomb, came Frederick's voice. Madelene staggered back. She realized that not for one single instant had she doubted she would find her husband there. And he was there! She'd heard his voice passionately insisting something. Red fire flashed in front of her eyes.

Without thought of consequences, she flung open the door and stood on the threshold, breathless and crimson, in all her indignant wifehood. Frederick stood near the chair in which sat Tessibel. In one single moment Madelene sent an appraising glance over the girl huddled in the wooden rocker—a woman's glance, mercilessly discovering her condition. Then her blazing eyes came back to Frederick. He had not spoken at her appearance—he had only reeled backward a few steps.

"You see I followed you," said Madelene in cold, metallic tones. "I knew you were coming here when you left home."

Tessibel got up slowly, went forward, and closed the door. Once more the man she loved had brought humiliation upon her.

"He were just a goin' to go!" she whispered, and she went back and dropped into her chair.

"Oh, he was, eh?" Madelene laughed harshly. "It's very good of you to let him go. I'll give you to understand my husband—"

She made a rapid step toward Tess, whose head went up instantly. The red-brown eyes battled an instant with the blue, stopping Madelene's progress. Frederick, stung to action, reached forth and grasped his wife's arm.

"Madelene!" he exclaimed. His tone brought flashing eyes upon him.

"You think I'm going to stand tamely by and watch you come here to see her?... You both think I'm a fool, I suppose. Well, I'm not such a fool as I look!"

Defiantly, the speaker surveyed her husband up and down. "I knew very well you intended coming here. That's why I asked—you to take me today and why I—followed you. I've had hard work to make myself believe you'd leave me for—"

Her scintillating look swept again over Tess from head to foot. Her eyes drew down at the corners; so did her lips. It dawned dazedly on Tess how much Madelene looked like her brother. Then, suddenly Mrs. Graves laughed, a note of triumph riding in her tones. She faced Frederick and throwing out both hands, disdainfully, at the squatter girl huddled in the chair, cried,

"My God, look at her! If you've any eyes, you'll see ..." and turning upon Tessibel, "Were you trying to pass off on my husband a spurious—" The scorn in the contemptuous tones of the shrill voice stung like a whip lash.

The appeal gathering slowly in Tess' eyes was but a dumb response to the other woman's taunting, bitter words. She could not have spoken had her life been at stake. She crouched down in terrified shame.

Then like a flash the meaning of his wife's words rushed over the almost stupefied man! God! and he had not known! Tessibel, her new light of coming motherhood, cowered before him like a stricken thing. He sprang forward during Madelene's hesitation and grasped his wife's arm again. He was so furiously angry his tightening fingers brought a cry of pain from her.

"Hush!" he cried peremptorily. "Hush!... You're crazy!... Haven't you any heart?... You've gone mad!"

Madelene shook off his hand.

"Yes, I'm mad half crazy. And you've made me so. Ever since I married you, you've had this girl in your mind morning, noon and night.... Now I know it! Oh, what a fool I was! I—I suppose possibly the next thing we'll know you'll be claiming the—"

Frederick shook her roughly.

"I said to stop it," he gritted. "Come away this minute."

Madelene, crying now, was struggling to pull herself from Frederick's grasp.

"I want to talk to that woman before I go," she screamed in desperation. "Let me go, Fred! I will speak to her."

"You'll not if I can help it," answered Frederick. "Come out of here, I say!"

By main strength he was drawing his wife toward the door. Tess was staring at them as if they were creatures from another world.

"I'm sorry," Frederick said directly over Madelene's head to her. "Dreadfully sorry."

"Sorry!" shrieked Madelene. "Sorry for such a woman! Look what you've done to me, both of you!" She wrenched herself from the strong fingers and flung back to the squatter girl. "I want to know if my husband is the father—"

Frederick had hold of her once more. The anger in his white face was terrible to see.

"If you speak to her again," he said murderously, "I'll—I'll—"

"I suppose you'll kill me," shrilled his wife. "Well, go ahead! The only way you'll ever get her will be when I'm dead!" Then she thrust her white working face close to his. "If she won't speak, will you? You're my husband, and I find you here with this—this—.... Are you the father of her baby?"

"No," said Frederick, dropping his eyes. "No, of course not!"

Tessibel bent her head to receive the last brutal stroke he had to give. She moved but uttered no sound.

"Well, do you love her then?" demanded Madelene.

And Frederick, not daring to look at Tess, repeated, "No, of course not.... Don't be a fool!"

"Then, what do you want of him, girl?" Madelene cried hoarsely to Tessibel. "You've heard what he said."

Tess thought she was going to die. All the awful hurt which had lain dormant for so many weeks rose up with ten thousand times the vigor. It was as if Heaven had belched out flames to consume her, and she knew there was no escape from this thing that had come upon her. Frederick had not only repudiated his love for her, but his baby too. She threw back her curls with a proud gesture.

"I don't want 'im," she said straight to Madelene. "Take 'im away an' don't let 'im come here any more."

When Madelene started to speak again, Frederick shoved her from the hut into the gray day. He turned once and looked at Tess. She was just where he'd left her, her eyes brimmed with sorrow and her teeth locked tightly together.

Then the door banged shut and she was alone in the kitchen. A little later she heard as in a dream the sound of horses' hoofs retreating far up the lane. Then all the powers of darkness closed in about her, and malicious elfin voices chattered her shame in her ears. Frederick had repudiated her and his child and had gone! Tess staggered forward, and a few minutes afterward, when Andy slipped down the ladder, he found her curled up on the cot insensible, her face shrouded in red curls.