"I can't get my breath when I think of telling him, Tess."
"He ain't to know never, then?" bounded from Tessibel's lips, the passion in the tones lowering the voice almost to a whisper.
"No," replied the young mother; "I can't tell him."
The squatter just caught the next words, "But I am going to die, too, Tess."
The conviction in the statement made Tess spring back.
"Ye ain't yet. Ye ain't goin' yet!"
"The doctor says I am very ill here." Teola placed her hand upon her chest. "I've had three hemorrhages. People ill like I am never get well. I don't want to—either," she ended brokenly.
She looked so forlorn, so thin and ill that Tess went awkwardly to her.
"I takes care of the brat if ye goes before him," said she.
"Thank you, dear," drifted from the depths of the child's box. "And forgive me all the sorrow I have caused you."