ly.

"Have you had enough?" demanded the student, standing over the
fisherman.

"Yep, I's a goin' home."

Tess laughed low and wickedly. She loved to see the blood oozing from
the mark in the ugly face. Every drop matched those dragged from the
hearts of the brat's mother, who had suffered for Ben, and of the poor
little miserable child himself, struggling for life in the Longman
shanty.

"You'd better go home," ordered Frederick, "and I want to tell you
something. If I ever hear you uttering a word about my being in this
hut, I'll follow you to the ends of the earth, and flog the life out of
you.... Don't try any of your tricks on me, either."

Frederick shivered as the wind swept cold from the frozen lake to his
damp brow. Ben had lifted his lantern and was swaying toward the door.

"I'll go hum," said he, "but I ain't done with ye--some day--"

Frederick bounded forward like a whiplash, but Tess held him back. Ben
gave a quick jump and was gone.

"He wasn't worth a-hurtin' any more," Tess commented, lighting a candle.
"I know he air the man what killed my other Frederick."

The name slipped out with loving intonation.

Then the boy and the girl turned and faced each other. The shanty rocked
in the wind like the cradle of a child. The willow mourned its tale of
winter over the roof, scraping the broken tin in hollow groans,
shrieking now and then as a gust roared through it.

For fully three minutes after the going of Ben, Tessibel stood looking
at the student. He had saved her from Myra's fate, from a hated thing
that made her teeth press hard together, and her eyes gather an
expression of melting gratitude.

"It were--it were--"

But the halting tongue could not finish. Untutored as she was, Tess had
read the message in the student's eyes. Love teaches in one night its
dreadful longing and response. Its domineering power brought Frederick
Graves nearer to Tess in her rags. It made them equal, even as all are
equal in love--and in death. In an instant the girl in the fish-tainted
tatters was clasped close to his heart, the bright, beautiful face
lifted to his. Then came the kiss, the making of which blended two lives
indissolubly together. The paleness of death settled over the boy; the
strong muscles of his shoulders stood out beneath the whiteness of his
shirt sleeves, while his fingers pressed the red-brown head closer to
him, his kiss deepening the crimson richness in the squatter's face. It
was