"Ye air the miserablest little devil I ever seed. No pappy, and a mammy what air afraid to say ye air hers. I hated ye last night, but ye air such a wrinkled little tramp that this mornin' I promises ye to keep ye till ye dies."
She was bending over the babe, watching every expression that flitted over the drawn mouth. In this position she did not hear the door open silently, as Teola stepped in.
The minister's daughter whispered to the crouching squatter:
"Tessibel, can—can you ever forgive me?"
Tess stood up and took a long breath. Teola noted how the night had changed the brilliant coloring to a whiteness that startled her. An agony of remorse broke over her, and, dropping upon her knees, she wept upon the face of little Dan.
"Tess, I've nearly died all through the night.... Oh, can you forgive me?"
"I ain't no business to be a-forgivin' ye. It be the brat what ye air to asks forgiveness of."
Teola sprang to her feet.
"Tess!" she cried sharply. Never had the girl appeared in this light.