CHAPTER X
It was mid-October when Ralph Drew, his pretty sister Constance and his devoted maiden aunt—Miss Sally Drew—arrived in St. Angé and took up their new life in the bungalow which, under Jude Lauzoon's contractorship, had been made ready.
During his first short stay in St. Angé young Drew had regained not only his lost strength, but he had gained an insight into the needs of the men and women of the small place. He had always intended doing something for the village and its inhabitants after his return to town for they had appealed strongly to his emotional and sympathetic nature. But what St. Angé had vouchsafed in the way of restored health, she had begrudgingly bestowed. To have and to hold what she had given, the recipient must, in return, vow allegiance to her, and, forsaking all others, cling to her pines and silent places. He must forswear old habits and environment—he must give up all else and fling himself upon her mercy.
It had been hard. Back there in the town, where the pulse of things beat high, he had fought the knowledge inch by inch.
"Would a year be enough?" It would be useless. "If winters were spent there—several winters?" The big specialist shook his head.
High, dry mountains, somewhere, were the only hope. St. Angé was comparatively near, she had given a hint as to what she could do—better trust her.
One after another the outposts of lingering hope were taken by the grim, white Spectre. He must abdicate, and accept what terms the enemy offered.
Wan, and defeated, but still with the high courage that was his only possession, Drew tried to get the new outlook.