The search began without the slightest clue of the child's whereabouts. Elsie had disappeared, as if she had been snatched into the sky. The storm, already very severe, had thickened the early twilight into dense darkness. The light snow that had fallen earlier in the day to the depth of several inches drove in swirling clouds before the wind and piled in deep drifts, while the congealed air pelted icy particles of frozen moisture into the confused uproar upon forest and field. Fear that the child had started out to find her mother and had been overtaken by the blizzard obsessed Waldstricker. He sent messengers in all directions, and himself rode furiously through the snow inquiring everywhere. Finding no trace of her at the neighboring houses, he instituted a systematic search of the locality.
All the afternoon Young had sat with Tessibel, most of the time in silence. She showed no desire to talk, and he knew not what to say. Watching from the sitting room window, Tess seemed to find diversion in the wind-driven snow, as though the blizzard's riot met and matched the aching bewilderment in her own breast.
Nor did she pay any attention to a knock which resounded above the beating of the storm. Deforrest went to the door and carried on an undertoned conversation with some one outside. Then after dispatching the caller, he went back to the girl.
"Tess," he hesitated, but his voice broke and he was unable to complete his sentence. In responsive inquiry, she turned from the window and looked up at him. The deep dejection of her attitude depicted her despondency and despair. The brown eyes, dull and lustreless, staring out of the drawn white face, expressed the hopeless wonderment the man had seen in the glazing orbs of a stricken deer. A great wave of pity welled up in him. How could he break this frozen composure and bring to the overwrought heart the healing blessing of flowing tears?
"Tessibel," he continued, sitting down, "what were you thinking about?"
"I was wondering what I could do to ... hurt Waldstricker," she replied, gripping the arms of her chair. Then she rose suddenly, throwing up her head. The intensity of her emotion fanned the dull coals of hate in her eyes to a hard brilliance and touched her white cheeks with vermilion. Vivid, active, her beautiful face, passion-drawn and cruel, red curls writhing and twisting upon her shoulders, Tess seemed a veritable fury crying for vengeance. She lifted clenched hands.
"I'll hurt Waldstricker," she vowed. "God help me to do it!"
Springing to his feet, Young ejaculated:
"Don't, Tess! You mustn't!"