Part 31 (1/2)

”Stop!” The little cold hand was pressed against his lips, ”you shall not! It was I who tempted you--you would have remembered--everything. It is you who must forgive me--I am going--now!”

The slow, pitiful words fell lingeringly.

”Going--where can you go?” Gaston stared dumbly at her.

”I think Mr. Drew will help me. I am going to tell him everything--and he will--find a way.”

”You shall not!” Gaston drew her to his breast. The primitive rose within him.

”There is another way. The only way. Drew shall not meddle in my affairs--nor yours. You will stay right here in your home until I return. I'm going to Filmer; he's the only one we need, he'll act for us both.”

”But--what then?” Joyce felt her heart stand still.

”Then? why I'm going to find Jude. I'm going to buy him off--if necessary. He shall free you--and then--then!”

Gaston held the pale face off from him and searched the wide, startled eyes.

”And then?” The words fell into a question.

”But how”--Joyce panted; ”how could I feel sure this great thing you plan is not another--unselfish act? Suppose, oh! suppose--_she_, that--that other girl--should come back--what then?”

”Hear me, Joyce. There is never going to be any one else. We are going back together--into that other life. Why, the possibility almost blinds me.

”They shall see what I've brought out of my experience. We'll make a place for ourselves and redeem the past. They shall seek us, my darling, and they shall see at last that I am master of my life!”

His enthusiasm and exaltation carried Joyce along with him.

”Dare I trust--not you--but myself?” she whispered. ”After everything is said--I am--what I am!”

”Yes--you are what you are!” Gaston pressed his lips against her trembling mouth. ”And now, good-bye!” he released her, and led her toward her door. ”I must make a few preparations--then get to Filmer.

It's all very wonderful, but it is more true than wonderful. Until I come, then--and it may take time, dear--you will remember?”

”Always--until you come--and after!”

Gaston bent again, but this time he only pressed his lips to the soft, pale hair.

When the door closed behind her; he stood for a moment dazed and bewildered. Mechanically he turned to the first task that lay at hand.

He rebuilt the dead fire. It seemed symbolic, somehow, and he smiled.

Then holding to the fancy that touched him, he piled on log after log.

There should be no lack of warmth and glow in the new reincarnation.

An hour later he left the house, with the needful things for his possible, long absence packed in a grip and flung across his shoulder.

He had attended to so many small comforts for Joyce--the fire, the writing out of directions, where to find money, etc.--that he had been hurried in the details of his own affairs; he had forgotten to take the key from the lock of the chest!

CHAPTER XIII

Jock Filmer was coming to the belief that there was a Destiny shaping _his_ ends _roughly_, smooth-hew them as he had ever tried to do. Jock was pursued, there was no doubt of that. For reasons of his own he had drifted into St. Ange when very young. Most conveniently and soothingly memory and old habits dropped from him--they had clung tenaciously to Gaston. Jock adapted himself to circ.u.mstances and new environment with flattering promptness.