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Updated: May 24, 2025
The glance pleaded for the miserable boy by the stool, for the sick babe held close to her heart, and lastly, for herself, her squatter honor, and the powerful love she had for the student brother. From the depths of her eyes came a demand to Teola that she tell the truth.
My darling, why will you persist in being out at night?... See, now, how you are coughing.... Child, what would become of me, if anything should happen to you?" Teola knew the heart of her father. He had sternly preached orthodox doctrine, had persecuted the squatters according to his beliefs; but he loved his children, and especially had he idolized her.
Bitter tears were falling upon the head of little Dan. They were the mother's first tears since that day when Tess had led her up the hill to the summer cottage. "But Kennedy will shut his cows up soon," announced the squatter. "Then I don't know what to do. The brat air too little to eat fish, he air." Suddenly Teola conceived an idea.
I must go, dear. I must, I must!" He pressed her to him again, bounded through the door and was gone. "Dan! Dan!" exclaimed Teola. "Dan, come back! I have something to tell you ... I'm so afraid so afraid!" Teola stood watching the yellow flames kiss the sky.
She grasped the thin baby to her breast frantically, kissed the crimson mark up and down, until where the frenzied lips had traveled the flesh turned purple. Oh! to have faith to believe that she might soon have her child with her always always! Of late there had crept over Teola the shadow of the great beyond, into which her student lover had been so hastily summoned.
The squatter had been the scapegoat upon which had been heaped the sins of a girl no one had thought capable of doing wrong. Teola, resting in her father's arms, struggled with her conscience, trying to press down the moral weakness that had compelled her to keep the tragedy in the cabin quiet. The minister helped her to her chamber, and, after she had retired, went in and prayed with and for her.
It might be Myra, or it might be some little lost child. Spurred on by sympathy, she bounded over a bed of dead chestnut burrs, waded through the water to the other side of the creek, and struggled up the rocks. Teola Graves, crouched in an attitude of suffering and despair, was seated on the gnarled root of a huge tree. Tessibel watched her for an instant.
"Yep." "And, Tess, I left a lot of white cloths on the pear-tree near the barn. I could not bring them to you before, for Mother only sorted them out to throw away this morning. Oh, the baby looks so thin and ill, Tess!" Tears trickled down upon the infant. Teola pressed her lips again and again to the thin mouth.
Without a word, he walked to the box, considering the wrinkled baby face like a man in a trance. His gaze took in the flaming brand, the gray eyes fastened upon the candlelight, and the tiny, searching fingers, which constantly sought something they could not find. It seemed an eternity before he gathered himself together, forcing his eyes upward to rest first on Teola, then upon Tess.
I mean, you know, Tess" here he turned squarely upon her "I mean that, for one so young, you have purity of faith and uplifted confidence in God's goodness." His voice was silenced by a half-smothered cry dragging itself from the squatter's throat. Then he noted that something was wrong. Teola, pale and wretched, had gradually placed a greater distance between herself and the wooden box.
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