"What?"
But it didn't sound like Tessibel's voice answering.
"Will you hear me out, dearest?" he pleaded. "Oh, won't you listen to me?"
Surely she was listening intently. He had never spoken when she had not given loving heed, if she were within the sound of his voice. Frederick attempted to raise her face to his, but with a pathetic little word of protest, she slipped from his arms, and fell face downward to the rocks. The tortured boy would rather have had her scream, strike at him, anything, than sink into that accusing, forlorn prostration!
"Tessibel! Tess!" he cried. "Whatever I do can't separate you and me. It can't! I swear not to let it!"
He stooped and drew her gently to a sitting posture.
"No, I won't let it!" he reiterated excitedly. "I won't! No other woman could ever take your place. Can't you see, Tessibel? Can't you understand what I'm telling you?"
"Nope," whispered Tess. "I ain't able to understand. Oh—" She lifted a white, twitching face. "Oh, don't go 'way an' leave me! Not now—not just yet!"
"But you said," he entreated, "you've always said, honey, you'd stand by me, and you will, won't you? This is the only way you can help. You will, dear, please!"
"I 'spose I air got to," she stammered, shivering. "Course I do everything ye want me to. But—but—tell me ... why."