Joyce of the North Woods Part 30

"Oh! then--" Gaston's face twitched, and his voice was bitter, "then came the star-gazing through the bars--and all the rest, until I came up here. Only one stuck to me through thick and thin."

"Your brother?" Joyce interrupted.

"My brother? No! Just a plain friend. I told him I did not want to hear a thing while I was shut away. I knew it would hold me back from getting what I could out of the experience. It's like h.e.l.l to have the outside troubles and joys brought to you while you are bound hand and foot. I saw enough of that--it did more to keep men in the mud than anything else. I just kept that s.p.a.ce of my life clear for expiation. When the gates opened for me one day--my friend was there with all the news in a budget.

"You see the lash that had cut deepest when I went away was something my mother said; 'You've broken the hearts of them who loved and trusted you.'

"Nothing had mattered so much as those words--and out of the disgrace, the loneliness, the misery and deadly labour, I had worked out a plan to make up to them for the wrong I had done. It was going to be about the biggest job a fellow ever undertook; but, do you know, I had hoped that I could do it?

"Well, my friend's words drove me back upon myself. There was nothing for me to do."

"Why?"

"The hearts were all mended--after a fashion, without my aid."

"Your mother?"

"She had died soon after I went away."

"And your--brother--he surely--"

"Oh! he had gone booming ahead like a rocket. The tide turned a bit too late for me--but it carried him to a safe harbour. In a generous and highly moral way he stood ready to repay me--but conditions had changed; I must accept certain terms."

"The--the--girl?"

"She'd married my brother. She it was who changed the conditions, you see. It had been a n.o.ble sacrifice for her to marry into _such_ a family--so, of course, due consideration must be shown her. Would I live abroad on an ample allowance?"

Joyce flinched before the tone. Gaston stood up and flung his arms out.

"No! by G.o.d, I would not live abroad. I chose my own place of hiding. He paid, though--I saw to that--he named no allowance, it was I; but he paid and paid and paid all that _I_ thought he should. He bought me off at my price--not his. I left all in the hands of the only friend I had on earth--I never wanted to hear of the others again until I was ready to go back--and I haven't. I wanted time to think out my way. I wanted strength to go back, take my name and fortune, ask nothing of the world--but a chance to defy it. I got as far as that--" He dropped back into the chair and bowed his head.

The hands of the clock were past midnight, the fire was nothing but glowing embers; a chill was creeping through the room. Presently Gaston was aware of a nearness--not merely bodily, but spiritually. He looked up. He had forgotten Joyce and his thought of comfort in knowing that she would stand by him. To see her close now, to gaze up into her glorious face was like an awakening from a hideous dream to a safe reality.

"You got as far as that," she said in the saddest, softest tone that a woman's voice ever held; "and then I came into your life. Oh! how hard you tried to set me aside with Jude--but again and again I returned to--hold you back."

"Why, Joyce, what is the matter?"

A paralyzing fear drove anguish before it. Gaston strove to recall pa.s.sion, but that, too, had deserted. He and Joyce were standing in a barren place alone--nothing behind, nothing before!

"Can't you see what is the matter?"

The coquetry had left the girl, she stood fair, cold and pa.s.sive like some wonderful G.o.ddess.

"Don't you think I see it all now?

"When I came out of that room I was a--bad woman! You were mistaken, I never understood before--about us!

"You see when--when I came to you that night--after Jude--" she struggled with her trembling--"I did not know such men as you--lived. I was what Jude and St. Ange had made me. I was afraid of you--but," she bent over him in divine pity pressing her wet cheek to his bowed head; "but I grew to know! You were far, far above me, I soon saw how far. You never thought about it, but it made it safe for you to help me. I can see it all so plain now.

"Then the evil that was in me, the evil that some might have made so vile, slipped away. I tried hard to be what you wanted me to be for my own sake. You did not think of the past and I tried to forget it, too; and so we came along to this night.

"In that room"--she looked quiveringly at the closed door--"for a moment, I misunderstood again. I thought you were trifling with me. I think I felt for the first time that perhaps I was _not_ what I had been--when I came out of the old life! I wanted to make sure, and I stooped to the meanest way."

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. I love you just for myself, and I love you as I would have loved my poor baby had G.o.d let me keep him. And that is the best way of all, for it holds all other loves.

"Oh, you must see! You shall see! The men out in your world--could any of them have done what you have done--for me? Even Mr. Drew could not understand. Even _he_ thought you must have harmed me--he felt sorry for _me_! And knowing what _I_ know, do you, could any of those others, think I would let you harm--yourself?

"You have made me a stronger woman than even you tried to make me, and I thank G.o.d for that--for you need me so very, very much!"

The deep sobs choked her, and she buried her head against his arm. Out of a desolation her words were creating, Gaston spoke desperately.

"I do need you, and by heaven, I mean to have you!"

"You're right. I did not know what you meant to me; 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 n.o.ble. 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.

This woman whom--he saw the fearful truth--this woman whom he had helped to form, had outgrown him and left him far behind!

Now that she understood; now that her womanhood could stand alone, she rose pure and strong above his pa.s.sion and the thing he called love.

She only thought he had forgotten, when G.o.d knew he did not even care for the rough fellow who had all but strangled the life out of her.

"Besides"--he heard her as from a distance--"besides, you must go back!"

"Go back--good G.o.d! to what?"

"To all that you had to go back to--when you turned to help me!"

Then Gaston bent and raised the shrinking woman beside him. Face to face they stood in the cold, still room. "Joyce," he said thickly, "what I am going to say--you may never be able to forgive--but I must say it.

"It is quite true, I gave no thought to what I was doing when I shielded you from Jude. St. Ange did not matter; there seemed no other way--and I never considered others coming to complicate things.

"I was miserable and lonely; but I felt sure of myself and in helping you I found an interest in life. Lately, almost unconsciously, I've felt the change in you--the new meaning. I wanted to make sure and then be guided, since others had entered this--this fool's paradise of mine. You are very beautiful--the most beautiful woman, I think, that I have ever seen--and I know now that you are--the best!

"Joyce--your beauty crazed me, and I had not forgotten Jude; I did not care!"