The Secret of the Storm Country Part 82

Watching from the sitting room window, Tess seemed to find diversion in the wind-driven snow, as though the blizzard's riot met and matched the aching bewilderment in her own breast.

Nor did she pay any attention to a knock which resounded above the beating of the storm. Deforrest went to the door and carried on an undertoned conversation with some one outside. Then after dispatching the caller, he went back to the girl.

"Tess," he hesitated, but his voice broke and he was unable to complete his sentence. In responsive inquiry, she turned from the window and looked up at him. The deep dejection of her att.i.tude depicted her despondency and despair. The brown eyes, dull and l.u.s.treless, staring out of the drawn white face, expressed the hopeless wonderment the man had seen in the glazing orbs of a stricken deer. A great wave of pity welled up in him. How could he break this frozen composure and bring to the overwrought heart the healing blessing of flowing tears?

"Tessibel," he continued, sitting down, "what were you thinking about?"

"I was wondering what I could do to ... hurt Waldstricker," she replied, gripping the arms of her chair. Then she rose suddenly, throwing up her head. The intensity of her emotion fanned the dull coals of hate in her eyes to a hard brilliance and touched her white cheeks with vermilion.

Vivid, active, her beautiful face, pa.s.sion-drawn and cruel, red curls writhing and twisting upon her shoulders, Tess seemed a veritable fury crying for vengeance. She lifted clenched hands.

"I'll hurt Waldstricker," she vowed. "G.o.d help me to do it!"

Springing to his feet, Young e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed:

"Don't, Tess! You mustn't!"

Turning away, she paced up and down the room, muttering imprecations.

Her companion stood silent, unable to a.s.suage her agony or rebuke her vindictive words.

At length Tess stopped directly in front of him.

"I know you don't like me to feel that way about Waldstricker, but I can't help it. I hate him so!"

Then she went to the window and stared out into the storm again.

After a moment's hesitation, Young touched her. Drawing her back, he held her in his arms, attempting to soothe and quiet her by murmured endearments.

"I'm awfully sorry, dear," he explained. "I must go to town. Helen's sent for me."

Tess nodded indifferently. It was all one to her now. She'd lost Boy, and she was willing to be alone to plan how she could punish his murderer.

"I'll send Andy to you," said Young, leading her to a chair.

He went in search of the dwarf and found the little man in his room huddled on the bed.

"Andy," said Deforrest, "come here."

Without a word the dwarf went to the lawyer.

"I'm going to Ithaca. Go down and stay with Tess until I get back."

He turned and went out, and Andy, silent and sick at heart, followed him down the stairs.

Andy was not able to persuade Tess to talk with him, but obeying Professor Young, he stayed very near her. The blizzard howled and banged outside, adding by its noisy commotion an element of dread to the grief within.

About nine in the evening footsteps sounded on the porch; the dwarf got up and went to the door. Jake Brewer entered and closed the door against the storm. The squatter took off his hat and shook the snow from the top of it. He looked, alternately, from the girl in the chair near the window to the little man staring up at him.

"I come to speak to the brat," he said.

"She ain't very well," answered Andy.

Tessibel looked around.

"Sit down, Jake," she invited. "The night's dreadful, isn't it?"

Brewer coughed and remained silent.

"Can I do anything, Jake?" inquired the dwarf, softly.

"Nope, it air only Tess can do it," replied the squatter.

Tessibel heard but remained in the same position.

"Tess air the only one can help," repeated Brewer.

The girl sank back in her chair, allowing her hands to drop in her lap.

"What is it?" she asked listlessly.

"Ma Brewer air sick," said the squatter. "She air knowin' ye air in trouble, but--but--"

It seemed to the girl as if this Christmas-tide had brought sorrow to everyone.

She rose to her feet, stiff from sitting in the same position for so long a time.

"I'll get her something, Jake," she said quickly.

"Ma an' me know ye got a lot of sorrow, brat," choked the man, "but Ma were a wonderin' if ye'd run to the shack fer a minute." Noticing the girl's hesitation, "She's awful sick an' mebbe if ye'd come, she'd feel better.'"

"I'll get your wraps, brat," Andy offered.

Both men helped Tessibel into her things. She stood very quiet until Andy held out her mittens.

"I'll only be gone a few minutes," she promised the dwarf. "Come on, Jake!"

And together they went out into the storm.

CHAPTER L

TESSIBEL'S VISION

Tessibel and Jake Brewer made their way through the bleak, dark, pear orchard to the lane. The night held no terrors for the girl. All her winters, she'd battled with the cold and winds of the Storm Country.

Now, through the lane to the lake, they struggled, heads bent against the blinding blizzard. Under the weeping willow trees stood the empty shanty which had housed her childhood days, and, mechanically, she turned her eyes toward it. She recalled, dully, the strange sequence of events that had transformed her from a squatter's brat and lifted her out of the bleak barrenness of life in the shack. She'd escaped the squalor, the horrid cold and the hards.h.i.+ps, common to the women of the Silent City. She lived more comfortably and decently than the fishermen's wives. She'd learned many things, but all her efforts to improve herself had been centered in her ambitions for Boy. Now it was all wasted! She'd won for him nothing but Waldstricker's enmity. Her aspirations for him and for herself were buried in the little grave on the storm-swept hillside by Daddy Skinner. Like a borrowed mantle, the culture she'd gained under Professor Young's loving tuition slipped from her and the elemental pa.s.sions of the primitive people that produced her a.s.sumed their sway. Subconsciously, the squatter's standards re-established themselves, and she hugged to her heart the hate she'd been cheris.h.i.+ng.