a child. Now she was a woman. Being a good-hearted man, he
hated his task, and a moment later hated it worse than ever. She sent
him one pleading, heart-rending glance, then dropped her lids.

"Ye couldn't let me stay till after March?" she whispered. "If ye only
would--"

It had been an effort to say it; an effort to both inclination and
voice. It was as if her throat were filled with ashes ... nor could she
finish the appeal.

"You can't stay even one day," thrust in Waldstricker, "I told you long
ago what to expect.... Get your things together."

Tess made no move to obey. She was waiting for an answer from out of the
dry nets, even from far behind the snow clouds where the blue slept.

"Get your things on," commanded the man, once more.

Oh, yes, she could do that! Putting on her things didn't say she was
going. She turned mechanically, took down her coat and scarf. These she
put on and went for her rubbers. She stood very near the wall as she
bent dizzily to slip them on. All the time her soul was looking upward
for the eternal answer, an answer from a power stronger than
Waldstricker's.

Then she went slowly to the little box where she kept her hat. After
brushing her hair back, she pinned it on in front of the mirror.
Today--well, now she was dressed, ready to go. She turned and came
forward. The constable stared from Waldstricker back to her. Was this
the girl who had stamped and screamed when Daddy Skinner had been taken
to Auburn?

"Are you goin' without any fuss, miss?" he asked dully.

"If I go at all," was all Tess said.

At the door she flung back her head, her eyes searching the rafters.
Straight as knife cuts hung the broken strings of the unused nets,
threaded here and there with wheels of silken cobwebs. Up through these
Tessibel stared. Up and up, above the curling of the chimney smoke, up
among the stars, up where the hands of love--God's hands, were ever
spread in benediction over her own wild, beautiful world. She smiled as
if responding to a smile. Waldstricker touching her made her turn
suddenly.

The cold wind from the door just opened by the officer, swept her hot
face. She flashed her eyes past him to the vast open stretches of
winter, and there, standing in the lane, smiling directly back at her,
was Deforrest Young. God in his own good time had sent her hands
stronger than Waldstricker's.

CHAPTER XXXIV

LOVE AIR EVERYWHERE THE HULL TIME

The moment the red-brown e