"Tessibel Skinner," he said, "I ask you to stand up."
The girl got up obediently, but sank down again, her trembling legs refused to support her. She did not, however, turn her startled brown eyes from her pastor's face.
"It is charged against you, Tessibel Skinner," he read from a paper before him, "that you have broken the laws of God and violated the discipline of this church; that you, an unmarried woman, are now pregnant. Are you guilty or not guilty?"
As the accusing voice ceased, the stern eyes of the dark-faced men, who had watched her closely during the reading, seemed to pierce her through and through, ... to lay bare her most intimate secrets.
What should she say? She wasn't unmarried, as the pastor had charged, but the rest was true. Without Frederick's consent, she couldn't explain; she couldn't deny the charge. Surely, Frederick would stand forth and defend her now. She listened intently for a sound from him. She dared not turn toward him, for fear she might break her promise by some look or word. But nothing except the storm-sounds disturbed the silence of the little church. Frederick had failed her again!
Unable alike to plead guilty or not guilty, she sat head bowed and eyes downcast before her judges.
Waldstricker broke the appalling hush.
"Speak up, girl," he ordered harshly. "You're guilty, aren't you?"
The forlorn child struggled to her feet and raised her eyes to the speaker's face.
"Oh, sirs, don't ask me 'bout it," she begged with outstretched hands. "I can't tell ye nothing 'bout it 'cept ... I air goin' to have a baby in the spring."