ob. She could not exonerate herself because of Teola;
she knew from Frederick's emotion at Ben's assertion that his sister had
not told him. But he should not believe the lie that Letts had uttered.

She saw the fine face of the student fall into his hands, and shudder
after shudder run over the giant frame. Ben Letts leered at him with his
twisted face, as a demon might at a soul in torment. The boy suffered
for her--that was enough. The front portion of her skirt had been almost
torn away in her struggle, and unconsciously she lifted it, and pinned a
thorn more closely in its place. But for an instant she held back the
words ready upon her tongue, and with one long step she reached
Frederick, placing her hand upon his arm.

"Don't touch me, please," he shuddered. "It's awful--awful! And I--I
loved you so!"

"Haw!" chuckled Ben, settling back against the child's box. "I says as
how the gal comes to my shanty. She brings the brat to its pa."

Frederick moodily considered the ugly face. The sneer that accompanied
the declaration roused his rage; the brute had sealed the doom of
Tessibel Skinner. Again the student was oblivious of his love for the
profession he had chosen; forgot that the one book he had studied more
than any other taught him that the God he worshiped would avenge all
wrong. In one step he was upon the fisherman. He lifted Orn Skinner's
stool, and brought it down with a crash upon Ben's head.

Tess uttered a sharp, frightened cry, speeding to interrupt another
blow.

"Get out of the way," cried the student, pushing her from him. "I am
going to kill him!"

With no ungentle touch she grasped Frederick's arm, holding the stool in
the air.

"Ye air to wait," she said, in low, swift tones, her gaze dominating his
flashing eyes. "Ye'll kill him if ye hit him again.... Wait till I says
what I's a-goin' to ... I loves my Daddy, that ye knows--better'n
anything in the hull world--better'n God--better'n--better'n--"

"Better than the child?" demanded Frederick, placing his foot upon Ben.

A grunt issued from the girl's lips.

"Yep, a hundred times better than the brat! And I says this: that I
hopes my daddy's neck'll be twisted by the rope, I hopes that I never
sees him again"--her voice was raised high above the whistling wind and
dashing rain--"I hopes," she finished, "that his soul'll shrivel in
hell--"

"Stop! stop!" muttered Frederick. "Why are you saying such things?"

"I hopes it all," insist