Harriet T. Comstock

“ Had he taken for granted that all was well; had he seemed glad that Gaston had saved her from her evil fate; then she would have known that such people as Gaston and Drew would understand and think no evil. But the effect of Gaston's training and influence had sunk deep. Joyce had risen above the vile thing Jude and St. Angé had tried to make her. She was, for all the wide difference between her and Gaston, a woman! A woman beautiful and alive to the highest degree. She dared not any longer ignore that. For Gaston's sake she must face the blinding truth. ”

“ A full moon dimmed the stars, but a keen glance showed that every one was in its place and performing its duty in the glorious plan.
A white, holy night! Only such a night as comes to high, dry places where the cold is so subtle that its power is disguised; where the green-black pines stand motionless in the hard whiteness, and where the silence is only broken by mysterious cracklings and groanings, when Nature stirs in the heart of the seeming Death, while she weaves the robe of Spring.
Joyce was beginning to feel the wonders of her little world ”

“ Through dishonour—as men might have classified it—he might have lifted Joyce up, but to save her soul alive from the hope he reserved for himself—his open door—he must drive her back to squalor and even worse.
He had chosen for her and for himself. He had his hope; Joyce was to have her honour; and now, what next?
His renunciation had strengthened him. His good resolutions steadied him; in the regained empire of his self-respect he contemplated the loneliness of exile, self-imposed, but none the less dreary. He was so human in his inclinations, so pitifully dependent upon his environment ”

“ But Joyce knew nothing of all this, consciously. Marriage, as Isa had foretold, brought its many cares and new interests. The strangeness and importance dwindled. No one considered the matter different from any other joining of St. Angé forces into a common life—the girl herself grew to take it for granted and sometimes wondered why she imagined her lot different.
She piled on more wood now, and laughed at the roar and glow. Then she drew up the arm-chair that Jude liked; he would be cold and tired when he returned. ”

“ All my life I've dreamed by day and night"—a sudden glow illumined Jude's dark face,—"of the road and where it leads. Always, as true as God hears me, Joyce, always, as boy and man, when I've fancied myself on the road, and beyond the forests, I've always seen you beside me. I don't care what you are, or what temptations beset you—you've always been the one girl for me. We're going to begin a new life now—with no back flings at each other. ”

“ When it was gone he replaced his hat and took his way—this time, toward the Black Cat.
Jude stood alone on his hilltop and watched the lights spring to life in cottage and tavern. The stars twinkled above him in the calm evening gloaming. The little river trilled a vesper hymn as it felt its way along the dark rocky path—and then tears came to Jude's relief, impotent, boyish, weak tears, such tears as he had not shed since his father and mother lay dead, and in childish fright and sorrow he had not known what to do next. ”

“ Gaston drew her close. Vaguely he feared that she was slipping farther and farther from him for all her sweetness and nearness.
"Joyce!" he cried wildly. "You are not going to desert me—now?"
She dropped beside him and clasped her hands over his knee. There was no need of reserve, she knew that better than he.
"Can you not see what sort of man you are?" she asked fiercely; while the tears fell thick and fast.
"Oh! I love you many, many ways. I can tell you this now and you must not stop me. I love you for them who left you alone to suffer. ”

“ Gaston had done more while he had hidden in the woods than he was aware of. He had developed something akin to second sight. Loneliness and empty hours had strengthened this as blindness intensifies other senses to abnormal keenness. Gradually he had grown to believe that a man's life, complete and prearranged, lies stretched before, and occasionally some, when the circumstances are propitious and the soul has a certain detachment that ignores the bodily claims, can leap over the now and here, and catch a glimpse of the future and what it holds. ”

“ Again she knocked, that poor little temptress in the dark. What had Fate decreed that he was to do? Gaston knew as well as if Joyce had told him, why she had come. Her soul had revolted from her concession to Jude. In the bewitched hours of darkness, the primitive, savage instinct had driven the girl to the only one who could change her future. Worn, weary, defiant, she had come to him; not questioning further than her despair and his power.
Well, why not? Who would be the worse, and who the better—if he drew her within and closed the door upon—St. Angé? ”

“ Gaston sat upright, and flung the pipe away. Suppose he should choose to—go back? Well, in that case it would have gone hard with Joyce. The soul he had awakened and glorified would have to be flung back into the hell from which its ignorance shielded it.
That was it. In giving the girl the best—yes, the best, in one sense—he must forego his own soul's good; forego the hope that he might some day choose to go back—and in that hope, lay Joyce's damnation. ”

“ The beast was quelled now, and a stifled sob rose to the boyish throat.
"I—I didn't want to think it—God knows I didn't, Joyce, it was that that drove me mad."
"Can a man only think bad when he sees what he doesn't understand?"
Revulsion of feeling was making Joyce desperate. While her new power brought her a delirious joy, it also, she was beginning to understand, brought a terror she had never conceived before. She wished the house were nearer the other human habitations.
"If you're that kind, Jude, you had better take yourself to the Black Cat; you'll find plenty of your liking down there." ”

“ Isa Tate, beside herself with fright, screamed for help, and for days Jude Lauzoon's house was the meeting place of Life and Death; then Life triumphed, and people breathed relievedly.
"A homely young-un often makes handsome old bones," comforted Isa. Now that Joyce was creeping back from the dangers that had beset her, Isa felt a glow of pride and interest. She was an honourable diploma to Isa's skill as nurse. In the future, Mrs. Tate was to feel a new importance. She was assuming the airs of a woman who has learned the market value of her services. Tate was to reap the effect of this later. ”

“ Gaston might come—now! Perhaps he had failed to locate Jude, and would return to consider. Well, then, she could put him on Jude's trail. Gaston, not she, should meet the "woodsman" in Lola Laval's deserted house.
In the sudden up-springing of this hope, Joyce quite forgot the face of the woman at the bungalow.
A freakish yearning to reproduce the one crowning moment of her life possessed the girl.
She would build a great fire upon the hearth, and make the room beautiful. She would don—the yellow gown, and, if he came, he should find her as he had left her. ”

“ He had big plans afoot—he had had them the night he came home and found Gaston and Joyce hanging over the baby. These plans had been set aside while the baby was taking his pitiful leave of life after his one smile, but Jude must hurry his case now. Nothing stood in the way—and, although many a woman might get what she deserved, Jude was going to forgive Joyce again and take her to his bosom in a new life, and they'd both forget what was past.
The hold of youth and beauty clutched the man's inflamed senses. ”

“ Almost staggering under the load, she turned and entered the chamber that had once been Gaston's. It was a woman's room now in every sense. Gone were the rough furniture, the pipes and books. In their places were the white bed, the low rocker, the many trifles that go to meet the endless whims of a woman's fancy and taste. It was an odd room for the shack of a backwoodsman. It had taken Joyce long to settle into it comfortably. Her brief apprenticeship in the home that Gaston had helped Jude make for her was the only preparation she had had for ease among these refinements. ”

“ He had always known Gaston had a hidden cause for being in St. Angé. Yes; he was John Dale.
For Drew to become convinced was for him to act upon the impulse of his warm heart.
"Ruth, dear," he whispered, "make yourself comfortable. I will go to him."
Then Ruth raised her hands to hold him back. Her voice was deep and awed.
"No!" she commanded "neither you nor I, Ralph, is fit to enter—there. A miracle has been performed up among the pines. A man and woman have been created—that we are not worthy to—touch!" ”

“ Womankind in St. Angé was monotonous. There was a shading of individuality in the girls and newly-wed women, but it faded soon into the dull drab that seemed the only possible wearing-colour of the place. Occasionally, though, the sameness had been relieved by a vivid touch, but only for a short hour. The Fate who snips the threads, had invariably clipped such colouring from the St. Angé design, and tossed it aside as useless.
Jude remembered Marsena Riddall. What a woman she had been! What a menace to man's rights and woman's position. ”

“ The Black Cat flourished, and Jude made no attempt to curb his growing desire for popularity there. He was developing a talent for instructing his elders, and laying down the law. He was endeavoring to fill Birkdale's place. Jared had always been the tavern orator. Some one has to occupy that pedestal in all such places, while the others enjoy their pipes and mugs in speculative contemplation.
But nothing was as it had been with Joyce. She had the look of one on the threshold of big happenings. Her pale beauty had a new glow. ”

“ I know now, and since Fate has played us false, we'll—we'll turn our backs on her."
"Joyce, are you willing to—trust me?"
Almost roughly he raised her face and forced her to look at him.
"I—trust you! You could never be anything but good and noble. I know that. You never have been—but, there are going to be other days and nights—just plain days and long black nights—and—I think we have almost forgotten—but there is always—Jude!"
Then like a bewildering flash the words lightened the dark place of Gaston's character. ”

“ It was what Philip could not face—it is what I—must!"
The words came pantingly, grudgingly and full of soul-terror.
Drew sought for comfort to give to this poor, distracted woman whose white, still face rested in the hollow of his hand, like a dead thing.
"Ruth, you shall not lash yourself unnecessarily. God knows you have borne the scourge of others bravely enough. It is not the detail alone that rises before you, and keeps you from what you have set up as your duty—it is the weakness of the man. ”

“ Jude from his shadow and aloofness was staring dumbly at the pair opposite while the low-spoken words sank into his drowsiness. Jude was primitive. Actions were things to him; things that admitted of no shades of meaning. What the two were saying in no way modified the situation. Gaston's hand was caressing his wife—his woman, Jude would have expressed it—and the bald fact was enough. ”

“ He would live as if all things might come to him, as to other men. It should be, day by day, and he would accept these people—if they would accept him—not as minister and parishioners, but in the larger, deeper sense—as brothers. With this outlook determined upon, a change for the better began. Before it, while the old weakness possessed him, Jock Filmer, sitting daily by his bed, was merely some one who was helping nurse the fever-racked body; afterward, Jock materialized into the most important and satisfying personality to be imagined. ”

“ The brow, low and broad, bespoke gracious womanhood and a possible radiant maternity, rather than intellectuality. The masses of hair were braided and wound coronet-style about the small uplifted head. The eyes, deep, dark, and mystical gave no clue to the inner woman; but the mouth, while it was tender in its curves, had a rigidity of purpose in its expression that fixed the attention. A pretty, rounded chin, a slender, slightly tilted nose, an exquisite throat set off by the cloud of lace—such was the face that Gaston beheld, and presently it wrung a groan from him. ”

“ Jude was striding toward the bedchamber beyond. "I guess you're smart enough to hold your tongue, though. Pile on a log or two, before you turn in; and you better draw the shutters to the north window—it's getting splitting cold."
Joyce turned to obey the commands. Not slavishly; after all it was but part of her woman-task. Jude feeling it necessary to tell her was the lash. It was cruelly superfluous—that was all.
She laid two heavy logs on the red embers, and stooped to brush the ashes from the hearth. Then she went to the north window and raised the sash. ”

“ You—and women like you, Ruth, might lead the men you love toward heaven; she would go her way alone to perdition to add to the happiness of the man she loved. But it would be alone, mind you.
"She's gone back to such a man as your books, even, forbear to portray. Jude is one of the creatures up here who was born without a soul. She's gone to him to save me, as she thought—but she'll live alone, alone as long as she lives at all.
"So you see what trouble comes from such civilization as yours grafted on to the primitive passions of the backwoods." ”

“ Joyce shivered in the hot room; "I see what you think, but why do you suppose I'd marry Mr. Gaston if he did want me? Sometimes girls don't—marry—men even when they are asked. Books are full of such things." A heavy sob came after the pitiful words.
"Oh! that's your dodge, eh?" Jared laughed comfortably from the secure position he had gained for himself from this misery. "Trying to shield him, eh? It won't do, Joyce. Your daddy's too much a man of the world for that. Now here it is in a nutshell: The boys at the tavern are back of me. ”

“ She had never been so beautiful before. Living in the ideal where her baby was concerned made it perilously easy for her to live ideally in all other ways.
Jude became a blurred reality. He was, when she thought of him at all, endowed with the graces and attractiveness of Gaston. Joyce did not consider Jude as he really existed. She smiled vaguely at him—his personality now, neither annoyed her nor appealed to her. While living with him outwardly, she was to all intents and purposes, spiritually living with Gaston. ”

“ Outside, near the grave of her baby, stood Constance Drew and the girl whose picture Billy held limply in his hand.
Constance Drew was talking, but the stranger's sweet face was turned toward the house, and Joyce saw that her eyes were full of tears.
"Billy"; Joyce clutched the thin shoulder; "put that back! Now lock the chest, and listen. If you ever tell a living soul what you have done—Mr. Gaston will—kill you!" ”