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. Angé 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 you give is an insult to me. There, there, you don't understand, but, it's coming out all right. It was only when others were meddling that we got on the rocks. I've got the rudder in my hand now, and by God's help," he was fiercely flinging on the logs, "we'll sail out into the open with colours flying. When did you eat last?"