Unable alike to plead guilty or not guilty, she sat head bowed and eyes downcast before her judges.
Waldstricker broke the appalling hush.
"Speak up, girl," he ordered harshly. "You're guilty, aren't you?"
The forlorn child struggled to her feet and raised her eyes to the speaker's face.
"Oh, sirs, don't ask me 'bout it," she begged with outstretched hands. "I can't tell ye nothing 'bout it 'cept ... I air goin' to have a baby in the spring."
Waldstricker glanced significantly at the other elders who nodded in acquiescence. Then he turned to the minister, still in the pulpit.
"It is enough," he decided sternly. "She has confessed her sin."
Dropping again into the pew, Tessibel cast a quick glance toward Frederick, who stared set-faced out into the storm.
"We find, Tessibel Skinner," continued the minister, as though reciting a carefully rehearsed speech, "you have sinned grievously. Your silence convicts you. You are no longer worthy of membership in this church, of communion with Christian people. But it is not right that you should suffer alone. For your soul's welfare and in the interest of justice, I ask you the name of the man--"
Tess got up again and faced them ... disgraced and outcast might be, but she must be loyal to her promise.
"Don't ask me that, sir," she pleaded, bewildered, flinging a terrified glance toward the door. "I air goin' now, an'll never come no more, but don't ask me to say nothin', please."
She turned into the aisle as Griggs stepped from the platform. She directed an appealing glance toward him that cut the man's heart through like a knife.
"I want to go," she repeated. "Please!"
"Not yet," broke in Waldstricker, grim-jawed. "It's the duty of this church to teach you a lesson if it can."
Tess looked helplessly at the row of stern men. What did they intend to do to her? Oh, if they'd but let her go back to Daddy Skinner!
"Please let me go home to my daddy," she pleaded faintly. "I'll never come no more, but I can't--I can't talk."
Waldstricker walked toward her menacingly.
"You've got to talk," he gritted, grasping her arm. "You've simply got to answer what the pastor just asked you."
Tess flashed him a look of abhorrence. Oh, how she hated this man!... It seemed to her that he killed for the sake of killing ... tortured for the pure joy of it. She set her teeth hard on her under lip, shaking his hand from her arm.
"I won't talk!" she cried. "You let go of me! See? You touch me again an'--an'--I'll--I'll--"
She paused for some fitting threat. Would no one help her? No, not a friendly face met her searching gaze. If she could get to the door--out into the snow, under God's grey sky! But as if divining her intention, the elders gathered in an accusing squad in front of her. Frederick remained in his chair by the window, apparently oblivious to the tragedy being enacted in his presence.