"Tessibel!... Tess, darling!" he cried, sharply. Lifting her up, he carried her into the room. She clung to him, crying, her confusion calmed by his caresses. He placed her in a chair and sat down beside her. Suddenly, she sat back in her seat, roused from her revery by mocking memories of her wrongs.
"Couldn't ye let me alone?" she breathed hoarsely, covering her face with her hands. "Ye might a let me be."
"I had to come, dear," Frederick told her. "I want you to do something for both our sakes.... Oh, Tess, what terrible days have passed since I saw you last!"
After a short pause, she dropped both hands and glanced up at him. Then knitting her fingers together, she pressed them hard until they looked like the veined stems of a pale flower. He had come to make another demand of her—and she was so tired—so sick!
"I want you to make me a promise, Tessibel," urged Frederick.
"I said as how I'd help ye all I could," murmured Tess. "Ye're wantin' me to do somethin' awful hard, huh?"
Her soul in her eyes, she looked at him, but his gaze was on the gloves he was twisting back and forth between his fingers.
"Ain't ye goin' to tell me?" groaned Tess.
She dropped her chin into her hands with a touching gesture of pathos. Frederick bent nearer.
"Tess, Mrs. Waldstricker sent me with a message—and you've got to do what I want you to."