CHAPTER XXXVIII
Professor Young knocked at the Skinner hut. Tess smiled at him from between the tatters of the curtain, and unlocked the door, standing, as her friend took the wooden rocker.
"Daddy air a-comin' home," she breathed timidly.
"Soon. Sit down, child. I have much to say to you.... We have discovered the murderer of the gamekeeper. We have positive proof that it was not your father."
Tess squatted on the floor, crossed her legs, and waited.
"Who were it?" she asked presently, as if afraid to speak.
"Ben Letts."
"The damn bloke!" she ejaculated, a dangerous light gathering in her eyes. "And he were a-lettin' Daddy be hung for his own dirty work! He air a wicked cuss, he air!"
"Ezra Longman saw him when he committed the murder," Young told her, watching the interest gather in the eager face. "Letts used your father's gun. That accounts for his having been accused."
Tess nodded her head.
"Ezy were here last night," she commented quietly. "He were sick."
"He was under my care for a long time," explained Young, "and last night escaped and walked home through the rain.... He is dead."
"Dead!" gasped Tess. "Dead!"
Impetuously she bent toward him, and finished:
"Ezy Longman ain't dead!"
"Yes, he is," replied Young. "He died in his father's hut, last night. I have just left there, and I feel heartily sorry for them both."
"Myry?... Did ye see Myry?"
"She's gone with Ben Letts."
"Gone where?"
"We don't know, but the officers are looking for them. I think the boy heard me tell the nurse that he would be held as a witness in your father's next trial. He must have warned Letts upon his arrival home, for—"
"He knowed Myry loved Ben," broke in Tess.
"That's what I thought," Young answered. "I found Longman and the mother mourning over the boy. They hope to hear from the girl soon."
"If Myry and Ben was in the storm last night—" began Tess.
"They may be dead," ended Young gravely. "Myra took her child with her. I found this note on the dead boy's bed, and brought it away with me. I would have liked to have put the boy on the witness-stand. Nevertheless, I hope to release your father on the evidence I have, without a trial."
For several moments silence reigned in the hut. The sun streamed through the window, and a steamer sent a shrill whistle over the lake, the sound echoing among the rocks. Tessibel was thinking of Ezra Longman; Professor Young was thinking of her.
Presently she leaned over, and took the letter from the man's hand, spelling out Myra's written message.
"Myry air a-writin' so dum well," she observed, handing it back, "that I can't make it out. What air she a-sayin'? You read it."
Young read the badly-spelled note.
"I knowed the brat was Ben Letts'," she said, after the man's voice had died away. "He were a cute kid."'
"We hope to find them all," interposed Young thoughtfully. "But, if we don't, the evidence I already have—this note, and the fact that the fisherman is a fugitive—will liberate your father. I shall go to Albany to-morrow to see the Governor. I am sure he will consider the evidence I have. Then we shall know."
"You think the man at Albany will give him to me?"
"Yes, indeed, I do! I would not raise your hopes if I did not. If you persuade your father to leave here—" He stopped and looked at her with a questioning glance.
"I tells him that the hut ain't his'n," she asserted abruptly.
"If you do go away, I shall try to get your father steady work in the city. Would you like that?"
"Yep," replied Tess, in a thick voice. "He wouldn't have to net no more. And he wouldn't have no more froze toes."
"Neither would you, Tess," answered Young.
Suddenly Tess saw the man staring at her arm, where several blue stripes, mingling with red, ran long from her shoulder.
"Heavens! child, what's the matter with your arm?"
The brown eyes clouded. Tess swept her jacket over the marks, and muttered,
"It ain't nothin'. I scratched it on some thorns."
Professor Young leaned forward, and tilted the little chin upward. Still the eyes remained upon the floor.
"Tess!" he pleaded. "Tess! Are you telling me the truth?"
"Nope; I's lyin' to ye."
She tossed her head up angrily.
"I had a damn good lickin'," she finished.
Young sprang forward, and grasped her arm.
"Who dared to mark you like that?" he exclaimed, standing her on her feet. "Wait. I want to see it. Who did it?"
He pushed back the sleeve, and stood analyzing the bruised shoulder and arm.
"Who did it?" he persisted, drawing a quick, sharp breath.
"Dominie Graves," muttered the girl.
"What!" Two deep creases marked the fine brow.
"He licked me," reiterated Tess, with an indifferent droop to her lids. "He had a right. I were a-stealin'."
"Tessibel! Tessibel! Look at me."
She swept him with a glance of truth.
"Are you—? Tess, I demand to know it all—all! Please, tell me about it!"
"There ain't much to tell," she returned; "only that I were a-stealin' from the Dominie's kitchen, and he licked me for it."
"What did you—steal?"
"Milk for the brat.... He can't starve, can he?"
Slowly Professor Young dropped her arm, gazing at her mutely.
"Ye ain't mad at me?" she ventured, watching him narrowly.
"No! I'm only sorry—infinitely sorry for you."
The tender tone in his voice, the mist rising in his eyes, brought Tess to his side.
"I thanks ye for all ye been a-doin' for Daddy and me," she said brokenly. "I does thank ye.... Don't look at me like that—it air a-hurtin' me."
The low voice, filled with unshed tears, rang with emotion.
A sudden inspiration seized Young.
"Child, if I bring your father back to you, will you—marry me?"
The unexpected question sent Tess staggering back; a tearful smile spread the red lips.
"Ye'r' batty," she said presently, with a dissenting shake of the red curls. "Ye'r' gone plumb crazy.... I's a squatter, nothin' but a squatter. I stays here with Daddy. I marries no man. See?"
The proud face of Frederick Graves rose before her. She turned away with a groan.
Young misinterpreted her expression.
"Circumstances have made you a squatter.... Sit down. I want to say more to you, Tess. Don't say you won't marry me, just yet. When your father comes home, we will talk to him about it.... I love you, child."
"My Daddy air a-wantin' me with him," faltered Tess. "He said oncet as how he wouldn't give me to nobody. Ezy Longman wanted me to marry him, but I hated him.... I don't now, though, 'cause he air dead."
"Tessibel, will you let me give you some money to buy milk for the strange little boy?"
"Somebody gived me some money after my lickin' last night, so I don't need none now."
A jealous feeling rose instantly in Young's heart.
"Who gave you money last night?"
"The student," replied Tess. "He said as how I shouldn't steal no more milk for the brat. I takes the student's money, I does."
A faint suspicion flashed over the lawyer.
"You told me the truth about the child belonging to a woman on the hill?"
Without answering his question, Tess stammered,
"Ye said as how ye trusted me, and I were happy because ye did.... Ain't ye trustin' me now?"
"Yes, child; but I am so bitterly unhappy over you, and my love for you makes me jealous—"
"Of the student?" queried Tess.
"Yes."
"Well, ye needn't care no more about him, 'cause he don't like me no more. He ain't never carin'—" She cut the words off with a snap. "I were a-goin' to lie then," she went on slowly. "He air a-carin', but—but—"
She dashed a loose curl from her eyes, and flung herself headlong upon the bed, with a burst of sobs that drew Young quickly to her.
"Tessibel Skinner, you love Frederick Graves?"
Tess straightened, and looked at him fearfully.
"Yep, I air a-lovin' him," she wailed.
"And he doesn't love you?"
"He be a-lovin' me, too." She was hardly able to utter the words.
"Then why do you weep, if you love him and he loves you?"
Tessibel's eyes settled upon the babe, yawning in the sun. Young followed her gaze.
"The child has separated you?" he said slowly.
"Yep."
"Why?"
"'Cause—'cause—"
All Teola's perfidy rushed over her in a twinkling. All the student's suffering stung her as if she had been struck in the face. She bounded from the bed, possessed of a dark spirit.
"A damn bloke air a-doin' it. It were a oath I took.... Will you go now?—Please!"
"Yes," assented Young. "But it is all a mystery to me. I cannot understand it."
And Tessibel, thinking of Teola, the child, and its dead father, muttered:
"I ain't understandin' it, nuther.... Good-bye."
Transfixed, Tess stood for many minutes where Young had left her. A shadow dropped upon the path. Teola, pale and ill, came toward her, and she did not move.
"My father and brother have gone to Ithaca, and I—Tessibel! Tess, don't look at me that way! Don't! don't!"
"You forgot to tell him," dropped from the squatter's lips.
"No, I didn't forget. Tessibel, I've tried, and I can't tell him.... I haven't the courage," she ejaculated, waiting long for a reply from the rigid girl. Her lips trembled as she faltered:
"My father was cruel to you, Tess!"
"I were a-stealin'," Tess muttered. "He wouldn't a whipped me if he—had knowed about it, would he?"
"No, no! He would have died first.... Tessibel, why didn't you tell him?"
"Didn't ye say it would kill the student if he knowed it? And I swored, didn't I? when the brat was borned, that I wouldn't tell—and I ain't no liar—leastwise about no brats. If it air told, the brat's ma's got to tell it," she finished.
Teola dropped beside her infant.
"I'm afraid to tell it. My father and brother have such confidence in me!" She shifted about, and looked at Tessibel. "We are going to move to the city, Saturday.... I have been thinking about the baby's milk—"
"I has money now," broke in Tess. "I don't have to steal no more. Daddy air a-comin' home soon, too."
"I know it. Father heard from Professor Young all about it. I am so glad for you, Tess. What will you say to him about the baby?"
"I dunno," grunted the squatter.
She answered no more of Teola's questions, but for a long time remained moodily looking, with narrowed eyes and burning heart, at the minister's daughter.