Tess made a negative shake with her head, and a look of fear crept into her eyes.
Through Waldstricker's baby she had measured the height of God's love and forgiveness, and through his own unrighteous arrogancy she had plumbed the depths of human woe. She thrilled at the thought of little Elsie, of Helen's joy this birthday of Jesus, the tender teacher of her youth. She would have welcomed them, but she didn't want to see Waldstricker. By the crack of his whip, he had destroyed her love-life, as a bubble from a child's pipe is broken by a gust of wind. But before she could frame her refusal, Ebenezer Waldstricker appeared in the doorway. He came forward to the bed and held out his hand.
"Tessibel," he said huskily, "I'm bowed with shame before you. Child, I cannot tell you how sorry I am."
Tess took his hand without the slightest show of hesitation.
"I'm glad you've got your baby home," she murmured brokenly, and that was all.
A great emotion shook Ebenezer's soul as a giant oak is shaken in a mighty wind.
"Last night when I sent you away," he explained tensely, "I didn't know about your bringing her back. I appreciate, child, that's no excuse for me. Nor did I know, then, that you were married—"
He stopped, the bitter pain in his throat aching his voice into silence.
"Mr. Graves is dead," he whispered, "and my sister—"
"Oh, I'm so sorry for her, Mr. Waldstricker," cried Tess, struggling up.