For one awful moment, Dominie Graves looked into the accusing eyes of his congregation. Bill Hopkins was seated, with his face in his hands, but Augusta Hall, with her new baby folded tightly in her arms, was looking at him in dark-eyed disdain.
Graves swayed dizzily, ... caught at the pulpit table for support.
"Jesus," he appealed dizzily, "Christ Jesus."
Frederick pressed his way to his sister's side. The squatter threw up her head before him: for the first time since that last dreadful night, she looked directly into his eyes, her dishonor slipping from her like a loosened garment. Frederick's soul shone forth in the glance he sent her. God in His own time had given her back the student.
Tessibel turned, and passed up through the mute gathering. Bill Hopkins put out his hand, and touched her.
"Child," he said brokenly, "you are the one bright spirit in this generation."
But Tessibel did not understand. She went down the long flight of steps, and into the sun-lit street, with but a backward glance at the rag-draped basket she had left under the church window.