Part 55 (1/2)

”I do not wish you to go with me.” Ruth felt timidly out for her sweet dignity; the perquisite and recompense of exquisite refinement. ”I prefer going alone.”

”It is quite dark.”

”I shall not be afraid,” Dale walked with her to the door. Just before the blackness engulfed her, she turned her little, flower-like face to him:

”John--I shall always be ready to be--your--friend if you need me.”

”I shall remember. Good night.”

An hour later Dale walked into the Black Cat Tavern and made a ruinous bargain with Tate for the use of his horse and sled for an indefinite time. ”I'm going up into the woods,” he explained, ”I may be gone a week, a month, I cannot tell; when I reach Camp 7, I'll send your rig back.”

”Going to join Filmer, maybe?” Tate's little eyes rolled in their cus.h.i.+ons of fat.

”Perhaps.” And Tate took this as affirmation. Now that Joyce had rejoined her rightful lord and master--for the story had leaked out--it was quite natural that Gaston should take to the woods.

”It's one on 'im,” Tate confided, as Brown Betty and the sled dashed by.

When Dale started out his purpose was very vague. If he reasoned at all it was to the effect that Jude, after Joyce rejoined him, would seek employment as near at hand as possible. It would be like his weak vanity to parade his victory by going to the men who had known of his defeat.

Besides, if he had sent for Joyce, he must have been in the neighbourhood. The heavy storm, in any case, would hinder a long journey, and the men at Camp 7 might perhaps have news of Lauzoon either before or after Joyce had met him a day or so ago.

It had been a short time. He and Brown Betty were a better pair than Jude and a heavy-hearted woman. So Dale drove on toward Camp 7.

He tried to keep to the trail, once he struck the forests, but the snow was unbroken--the heaviest fall had occurred after Billy's return--and Brown Betty intelligently slackened her speed and felt her way gingerly through the darkness. It was still as death. Above the trees the stars p.r.i.c.ked the sky, and the intense cold fell like a tangible thing upon the flesh exposed to it. Dale pulled his fur cap lower, and gladly let Betty have her will.

Now when Billy had left Joyce at the end of their flight, it was near the door of the woodman's hut.

”Billy,” Joyce had said, lingeringly clinging to him as the last familiar thing in her happy span of life; ”Billy, you must turn back, and G.o.d bless you, dear. You see Jude must not know anything about you--and it's all right now, Billy.”

Billy made an effort to speak, but ended in a sob.

”Never mind, Billy, it's _all_ right now. Just remember that. Kiss me Billy.”

And Billy kissed her like the true gentleman he was on the way to being.

Then Joyce, with her shabby baggage, and basket of provisions went on alone.

She was stiff and cold, and her heart was like lead within her. With surprise she noticed that the door of the hut was partly open, and the snow had drifted in. It was dark and lifeless apparently, and for a moment Joyce thought that Jude had gone away, and she turned to recall Billy before it was too late. Then she boldly entered the house. The little entry was covered with snow and the room door, too, stood as the outer one did, ajar. Joyce paused and listened--then a horrible fear took possession of her. The still house overpowered her for a moment, but she knew that death awaited her in the outer cold and loneliness, so by superhuman determination she felt her way toward the fireplace--she had been in the hut more than once and memory served her now. She forced herself to think only of lighting the fire. Even when she struck a match she would glance nowhere but at the hearth.

Her teeth were set close, and her breath hardly stirred her bosom. There had been a fire recently--but the ashes were cold. There was, however, wood nearby, and Joyce tore the paper from one of her packages and used it to ignite the smaller wood.

There was a puff, a flare, and the wood caught.

With the growing heat and light a semblance of courage returned, still Joyce kept her eyes rigidly upon her task. She laid on more wood, and yet more. It was past midnight and the terrible stillness Was numbing her reason. Presently she cautiously turned--something compelled her.

She did not expect to find--anything, but she had to look! Away from the red glare, the shadows concealed their secrets from the fear-haunted eyes, but only for a moment.

Jude was there! He was lying stretched upon the floor. A bottle was near his outspread hand. He was asleep.

Joyce did not try to get upon her feet, but she crept toward the still form. She touched, with stiff fingers, the hand of the man she had come to meet--the man who was to save her from her love.