His voice was very low but every word was distinct.
Mrs. Graves lifted her pillow, turned it over, patted, and sank back upon it.
"Why?" she demanded, searching his face with accusing eyes. "Because of that fisherman's—"
Now he would tell her; now he would explain! He coughed, took out his handkerchief and wiped his lips.
"I shouldn't think you'd say anything against Tessibel Skinner," was what he said at last, "considering what she did for us."
Mrs. Graves uttered a scream, and covered her face with her hands.
"Now throw that in my face, will you?" she cried. "Can't you let me forget my shame and disgrace? Can't you see that girl coming into my life would bring constantly before me my daughter's downfall and death?"
Her voice was tragic, and Frederick's heart always had been tender toward his mother. He saw as vividly as if it had happened but yesterday Teola dying in the church. It had been such a dreadful experience for all of them. Frederick had never doubted for one moment that that terrible ordeal had been the cause of his father's death. He went quickly forward and slipped one arm about her shoulders.
"I'm sorry, mater," he murmured. "There, forgive me!—There!—Don't cry!... Now don't get nervous—the doctor said you mustn't cry."
Mrs. Graves shivered in the strong arms.