Her low denial served only to lock Frederick's arms more tightly around her.
"You've got to come and you mustn't tell him, either," he urged. "You mustn't!"
Succeeding at last in releasing herself, Tessibel sighed. She wanted to be firm with him, to impress lovingly upon him her reason for refusing him; but when he reached forth and folded her again in his arms, that fine firmness gave way. She burst into wild weeping, holding him close as he held her, trying through broken sobs to tell him what was burdening her heart.
"It air like this, dear," she wailed, dismally. "Oh, I want to marry ye more'n anything, but I've never deceived Daddy a bit in all my life. I never done nothin' less'n I told 'im, and, Oh, I want to tell him, Frederick! I do want to tell 'im!"
Frederick hadn't anticipated this resistance on Tessibel's part.
"Tess," he said, almost angrily, "I wouldn't ask you to do anything wrong." Then softening, he pleaded accusingly, "You don't love me well enough to be my wife."
"It'd be wicked," whispered Tess, falteringly.
"It would be right!" cried Frederick, in quick contradiction. "Tess, you will, you will!"
The red curls shook slowly a mute negation.
"I don't believe you love me at all," groaned Frederick. Then taking a long breath, "You want me to be unhappy, I know you do."