Tessibel Skinner had been married to Frederick Graves for six long weeks: She had become somewhat accustomed to the deception practiced on Daddy Skinner, and Frederick was constantly allaying her fears and misgivings by telling her that she belonged to him now; that she was his darling, his joy, the better part of his life. Many times he assured her between kisses that it wouldn't be necessary to keep the marriage secret long. Each day, each hour, each minute, the girl-wife basked in the thought of her young husband's love. She unfolded the hidden beauties of her nature to him as spontaneously as the opening flower responds to the genial warmth of the rising sun.
Early one morning Tessibel arose, a new light shining in her eyes. Because Daddy Skinner was still abed, she started to the shore for water. It was a glad, shining, diamond-studded earth that greeted the view of the expectant girl; there was wonderful stillness everywhere, and for some minutes she stood contemplating the scene before her. South from the Hog Hole to the northern curve at Lansing, the lake was dappled, its surface broken here and there by little capfuls of breeze, which dimpled in the light, while the smooth spots reflected the blazing glory of the morning sun. The leaves of the weeping willow tree swept the rapt, upraised face, and Tess drew down about her head and shoulders one of the thickest branches. These century-old trees were really a vital part of her life--old loves to Tessibel, loves that had kept watch over her since the day of her birth in the shanty.
A brilliant flame flooded her face.... Frederick stood with her in spirit nearness. What she would tell him that evening would be whispered so low that not even the nesting birds could hear. She imagined the tenderness with which he'd clasp her in his arms, and thrilled, visualizing the darkening of his eyes. Tessibel was painting pictures--her exalted soul running the gamut of joy.
What a wonder-world it was! What a glad, peaceful, new day, her first real day of living--the beginning of life itself; Frederick's life and her life! Now, of course, he would tell his mother they were married--would take her to Daddy Skinner, and--and--She could plan no farther just then. Her whole being was God-lifted. Even the waves lapping at her feet seemed to speak the language of a world to come.
She dipped the pail into the lake slowly, filling it with water. Then with a last sweeping glance over the golden-tinted waves, she returned to the shanty. Daddy Skinner by this time was seated in his chair, his grey face wearing an expression of misery.