m and went to the library, where Mrs.
Waldstricker had preceded them.

Helen's distraught manner prevented anything like a conventional welcome
to her brother-in-law. After Frederick had expressed his sympathy for
her anxiety about Elsie and tried to quiet her fears, Madelene carried
him off to his room. When she had seen to the details for his comfort,
she returned to the library to share Mrs. Waldstricker's vigil.

Frederick found, when he was left alone, that he was in no mood for bed.
He was too tired to sleep, too nervous to be quiet anywhere. It seemed
to him as though there were some unusual quality in the air, some
mysterious whispering to his inner consciousness. He felt vaguely
excited. He tried to read but the words conveyed to him no meaning. To
an extent never before experienced, possibly because he was again in the
Storm Country, he wanted Tess. After a time, he heard the banging of the
front door downstairs and confused cries in the hall, but paid little
attention to them. In the silence that succeeded, the narrow walls of
the bedroom became unbearably close. He'd go downstairs to the library.
It might be he'd be able to rest in a chair before the log fire.

CHAPTER LIII

THE HAPPY DAY

Like the kindly eyes of a welcoming friend, the two great lights upon
the posts of Waldstricker's gateway met Tessibel Skinner as she
struggled between the tall stone pillars to the private driveway. In
sheer fatigue, she allowed Elsie to slip to the snow and sank down
beside her. Her heart sang with joy and thanksgiving. She was going to
give Helen her dear, golden-haired baby. There was no thought, now, of
her hatred for Ebenezer, only wondrous anticipation of his joy at
receiving his little girl out of the storm. Through the white light,
Tess could outline the rounded figure in the snow. Rhythmical breathing
assured her the little one slept in security. Once more, Tess got to her
feet and, once more, she gathered up the living bundle. She was almost
at the end of her journey. The short rest had given her new strength,
and when she got to the stone porch she was able to mount the steps, and
move laboriously, almost breathlessly, to the door. Memories keenly
bitter-sweet rushed over her. The last time she was on that spot she was
going to sing for the master's friends. What numberless happenings
loomed before her mental vision, happenings to her and to Waldstricker.
She was too dazed, too cold, to consider th