* * * * * As she walked up the long hill, she saw her brother standing on the porch, and noted the pallor of his face, the expression of misery in his eyes. At first the boy did not see her--not until she called his name softly.
Teola sank upon the upper step.
"It takes away my breath to climb that hill," she panted, when she could speak. "It grows harder and harder every day."
"I shall be glad when we leave this old cottage," was the boy's moody reply. "I never knew how much I hated the lake until to-day."
Teola did not answer to this, for she knew that she was to blame for that hatred. Frederick was looking at the hut under the willow wofully.
"If anyone had told me what I saw last night," he blurted out, a moment later, "I believe I would have killed him.... I loved her, Teola."
Now she would tell him--send him back to Tessibel with joy in his heart. She sprang up impetuously.
"Frederick," she began quickly, "let me tell--"
But he interrupted her.
"You need not tell me that I have to forgive her for such a thing as this because of ignorance.... It's too horrible!... I shall never get the sight of that child out of my mind.... That streak of awful, lurid red ... that yapping mouth ... those clawing hands.... God! the disgust I felt.... Teola! Teola! You are ill! Rebecca, come here! Come! Come!"
Together they lifted her from the porch where she had fallen, like a man stabbed with a knife. Gurgling from her lips poured the fresh red blood from the diseased lungs. Teola tried to speak, tried to tell Frederick the truth, but the awful tugging in her chest, and her brother's order that she must not speak, closed her lips upon the good resolution. Added to his command came one from the doctor, who arrived later, that she must not speak one word until he came the next day. The hemorrhage had been brought on by Frederick's description of her child. After her brother had gone, she thought of the hour when she could tell him, but with a thankful feeling in her heart that it had been delayed a little time.
* * * * * Until the great University bells chimed the hour of midnight, Tessibel waited in the hut for Frederick.
"She hes forgot to tell him," she muttered wearily, pulling the sleepy babe into her arms, "and--and he ain't a-comin'."