TESSIBEL’S MARRIAGE
During the few hours after the departure
of Waldstricker, Professor Young and Helen, Tessibel
Skinner was preparing for her marriage. For the
present she had dismissed her fear for Andy Bishop
and had turned her attention to her own wonderful
secret, her marriage to Frederick that evening.
She went so nervously from one thing to another that
when she stood fully dressed before her father, he
scrutinized her inquiringly; but he confined his curiosity
to the simple question,
“Goin’ out, brat?”
“Yep, Daddy,” admitted
Tess, confused for an instant, “an’ darlin’,
don’t worry if I ain’t back fer quite
a little while. I air goin’ to ride with
Frederick.” She leaned over him and cupped
his bearded face with her hands, her eyes like stars,
first shining, then shadowing. “Ye trust
yer Tessibel, don’t ye, Daddy Skinner?”
Since the first instant she’d
been placed in his arms, a wee baby, the squatter
had never ceased to marvel at her loveliness.
An expression of adoring affection settled over his
face.
“Sure, I air a trustin’
ye, child,” he assured her huskily, “or
I wouldn’t be lettin’ ye run ’round
wild on the rocks like ye’re doin’....
Ye won’t be gone too long, honey?”
“Nope,” answered Tess,
kissing him, “bar up, darlin’, an’
don’t open to any knock lessen ye know who ’tis,”
and she ran out of the shanty and closed the door
behind her.
“Fine lookin’, yer girl,
eh, pal?” remarked Andy, presently, from the
ceiling.
“Yep,” agreed Orn, morosely.
“She air got a beau, now, ain’t she, old
horse?”
The fisherman’s face darkened with anger.
“Yep, an’ I hate ’im
like I hated his pa. But when a girl air fell
in love with some feller, that air all there air to
it.”
“I hope he won’t never hurt her,”
sighed the dwarf.
“He better hadn’t!” mumbled Skinner.
During the silence that followed between
the squatter and his prison pal, Tessibel was climbing
the hill to meet Frederick. Many conflicting
emotions took possession of her as she neared the summit.
After tonight she would no longer be Tessibel Skinner,
but Frederick’s wife, and he, her husband, her
own forever and forever. This night-ride would
be her cherished secret until Frederick gave her permission
to tell Daddy Skinner until the whole world
should know. Her mind was busy with the events
of the last thirty-six hours. She was cogitating
upon the happiness of her future, when she saw the
waiting vehicle ahead of her, and Frederick’s
dark figure silhouetted in the moonlight. Faster
and faster fluttered her heart, and faster and faster
moved her feet. She reached the carriage without
the student’s realizing it.
“Frederick!” was all she had breath to
say.
At the whispering of his name, the
young man sprang to the ground. In another moment
he had Tessibel in his arms.
“You’ve come!” he
murmured low, kissing her. “Oh, my dearest,
you’re here!”
Then he lifted the slender figure
into the buggy. Even in the pale light, Tessibel
noticed his face gleamed white, and his eyes shone
darker than usual. She sat very quiet as he gathered
up the reins, and it was not until they were well
on their way along the Trumansburg road that the boy
turned to her. How beautiful she looked, her shoulders
completely covered with dusky-dark curls and her head
bowed in maidenly shyness! All his doubts as
to the expediency of his act were set at rest.
She was deeply essential to his happiness, to his progress.
To know she was his wife, married to him, so that
none could separate them, would make his absences
from Tessibel much easier to bear. He had in the
past feared Deforrest Young. Now that fear was
being set at rest. He never had worried that
Sandy Letts would win Tess any more than he had been
apprehensive of Ben Letts before the drowning of the
squatter. The one person he stood in awe of was
his mother. Again his eyes sought the silent
girl at his side. She had ever been a hallowing
influence in his life, and to lose her would be worse
than death. After tonight the glory in those
unreadable brown eyes would ever shine for him.
He threw one arm across her shoulder, and drew her
closer. “My little moonlight girl!”
he breathed in ecstasy, his cheek against hers.
“Are you happy, my sweet?”
Tessibel couldn’t have spoken
if she had so desired. Her heart seemed filling
her throat. Happiness hushed her voice, and gratitude
to God for giving her Heaven’s best prevented
her expression of it.
The next twelve miles were passed
in silence. And ever after, when Tessibel in
imagination recalled the white road, winding its way
into the hills, the quietude of the countryside, the
shimmering moonlight, it seemed like nothing real.
And she remembered, as in a daze, Frederick taking
her in his arms after the minister had married them how
he had called her over and over his wife, his darling,
and other whisperings divinely sweet.... In memory
all those hours were like strangely mysterious dreams.
Daddy Skinner was waiting for Tessibel.
He had sat listening for hours, mostly in silence,
a deep brooding expression bending his ragged brows
together in a stern frown.
From his position in the attic, Andy
Bishop could see the fisherman’s face.
The dwarf was quick to recognize that something was
wrong with his friend.
“The world air waggin’ yet, Orn,”
he remarked soothingly.
“Sure, but ’tain’t much of a world,”
grunted Skinner, sighing.
Andy bent his head a little farther through the hole.
“It air a lot, while we got
Tess,” he answered. “We got Tessibel,
ain’t we, pal?”
The squatter’s mouth wrinkled at each corner.
“Yep, I guess we got ’er all right, but
I wish to God she’d come home.”
“She’ll be along soon,” assured
Andy, with a smile.
For a few minutes they remained silent.
Then Orn Skinner burst forth again,
“I ain’t got as much use
for that feller Tess loves as a dog has for a million
fleas, an’ I never liked ’is pa, uther....”
“Ye wouldn’t wish she’d
be lovin’ Sandy Letts, even if he does make
money, eh, Orn?” asked Andy.
“Thunder, no!” snorted
Skinner. “I’d ruther she’d be
dead ’n married to Sandy. But that ain’t
sayin’ a honest squatter airn’t better’n
a high born pup.... I wish Tess loved a decent
chap.”
At that moment the speaker’s
daughter was standing alone on a small country inn
porch, some miles from Trumansburg, waiting for her
husband.
Frederick had gone to get the rig
to take them back to the squatter settlement.
There was absolute stillness, absolute calm everywhere
but within herself. Her heart fluttered with
new emotions, new desires, ambitions to make herself
worthy of the man she’d married. Her eyes
were on the sky, her soul among the stars, her own
stars that had crept out one by one, each to look
lovingly down upon her happiness.
What a glorious night it was!
More wonderful than yesterday even! Or any of
her many yesterdays! This hour, the climax of
her love, had transported her through the mystery
of immeasurable joy. She would never again be
the old Tessibel. She was Frederick’s wife!
Her breath came in sudden, quick, happy sighs, for
just then she heard his voice from out of the darkness.
Ah, his tones, too, were deeper, richer than yesterday!
Even in the shadow, Frederick saw
her distinctly as he came toward the house.
“My own little wife!”
he whispered tumultuously. “How happy I
am!”
“Won’t ye take me home
now?” murmured Tess. “It air late
an’ Daddy’ll be worried.”
“We’ll start at once,”
promised Frederick tenderly, leading her down the
steps.
Daddy Skinner heard the horse coming
down the hill, heard Frederick as he said his low,
“Good-night, my darling,” and unbarring
the door, the fisherman waited impatiently for his
daughter to enter the shanty.
One glance and he stretched out his hand.
“Ye’re sick, brat,” he stammered.
“Be ye sick, my pretty?”
Dropping her eyes, Tessibel shook her head.
“Nope, I ain’t sick,” she faltered.
“But but ”
She wanted to throw herself upon her
father’s broad shielding breast and sob out
her joy. But she couldn’t do that so she
stood hesitantly, her lips quivering.
“I air wantin’ to be hugged
in yer arms, Daddy Skinner,” she told him.
“Tell yer brat ye love her awful much.”
And according to his custom in his
daughter’s sentimental moments, the fisherman,
after dropping the door-bar, seated himself in the
wooden rocking-chair, and held out his arms.
“I were just a sayin’
to Andy, I wished ye’d come home,” said
he. “Love ye, kid?... I love ye better’n
all the world, and everythin’ in it....
Well! If my pretty brat ain’t cryin’....
Sandy ain’t been chasin’ ye, has he?”
“Mebbe she air been a fightin’
with her beau,” piped the dwarf, from the ceiling.
The girl’s mind traveled back
through the events of the evening.
“Nope, I didn’t fight
with ’im, Andy,” she smiled through her
tears.
Daddy Skinner’s beard rubbed
lovingly over the dishevelled curly head.
“There! There! My
little ’un!” he singsonged. “I’ll
rock my babe a bit. Ye stayed out too late, I
air a thinkin’.”
Oh, to tell him everything that had
happened in the past few hours. But she had promised
Frederick, and Tessibel would rather have died of grief
than betray her trust. She put her lips close
to the fisherman’s ear.
“I air lovin’ the student,
Daddy,” she whispered. “I didn’t
see Sandy tonight. I jest been with Frederick.”
The squatter’s only answer was
to press her lovingly to him and for a long time he
swayed back and forth slowly. Suddenly he ceased
rocking.
“Ye’d best git to bed,
baby,” said he. “Crawl back, Andy,
and let the brat undress.”
Andy’s shining face disappeared
with a “Good night, brat,” and “Good
night, old horse.”
The father and daughter heard him
settle himself on the straw tick, and soon all was
quiet above. And later by half an hour, Tessibel
was dreaming of the young husband who that day had
opened a new world to her, who had led her from girlhood
into the immensity of womanhood.