s heart. But while it hurt, it aroused
resentment. What right had Filmer to judge--Who knew _his_ past? But
Gaston knew Filmer was _not_ judging. He knew he was only bidding
farewell to his one friend of the Solitudes. The friend he had trusted
and revered.

The effect upon Jude was quite different. No doubt swayed him--he was
merely debating in his mind whether he could now get away with the
money and the wagon he had hired.

"Since you've got her--" he stammered, "how about--the--the money?"

The question nerved Gaston.

"Money?" he cried; "get out with it, you thief and would-be murderer.
Use it to get as far from here as you can, for as true as there is a
heaven above us, if you ever interfere with me or--mine--again, I'll
shoot you at sight. Get out--all of you!"

He slammed the door violently shut, and with clenched hands and blazing
eyes, he faced his companion.

He and she were the only ones in the new world. Stung by the memory of
the look of lost faith in the eyes of the one friend to whom he had
planned to turn in this emergency; recalling Jude's glance of triumph as
he turned away, Gaston's moral sense reeled, and the elemental passions
rose.

Joyce stood shrinking before him. Beaten, bruised and trapped, she
awaited her doom.

Her primitive love for this man held no part in her present condition.
Whatever he consigned her to, that must she accept. St. Ange standards
were well known to her. The people would be quick enough to spurn
personal responsibility for her, but if she were independent of
them--well, they were not the ones to hold resentment!

No moral training had ever had part in this girl's life; nothing held
her now but a fear, born of her past experience with man's authority, as
to her future fate.

She was abandoned and disowned. Her recent loss and grief had bereft her
of any personal pride and hope--like a slave before its master, she
faced Gaston--and mutely waited.

The unexpected happened. Gaston laughed. Laughed in the old, unconcerned
way; but presently the rising awe and question in the lovely eyes
looking into his own, sobered him. He began to understand and to get her
point of view. He stood straighter, and a new expression passed over his
face.

"Sit down, Joyce," he said, urging her gently toward the chair, "I must
mend the fire. Things look as if they had fallen to pieces, but they
have not. Believe me--they have not. For heaven's sake stop trembling;
every shudder y