"I know it, dearest!" she murmured, much moved. "Ye tell me that every day. But what else air ye—"
"You'll forgive me, and not be ... too unhappy?" Frederick interrupted her anxiously.
Unhappy, while her whole being was transfused with ecstasy! Unhappy, when his life and hers intermingled in one glad, glorious song of inseparable unity! There never could be a diminution of her joy. Frederick loved her! That was enough.
"There ain't nothin' I wouldn't forgive," she vowed, misty-eyed.
"But, Tess, I feel as though you won't forgive me this," sighed Frederick. "But if you'll promise me—"
"I do—I will," she interjected, sitting up. "Why, of course, I'd forgive ye anything."
Frederick dared not look at her. Even in the twilight he could feel her eyes searching his face for an explanation.
"I need you to help me, Tessibel," he said at length.
Help him! Hadn't she ever been ready to help him? He had but to ask her. She dropped her head against his arm again.
"Tell Tessibel," she urged, smiling.