"John Dale. Philip's brother."
"In heaven's name, where!"
"Up at Gaston's shack. Gaston—is—John Dale."
Ralph drew back and repeated dully:
"Gaston—is John Dale? Gaston—is John Dale?" Presently the wonder became affirmation. "Yes," he almost groaned, "Gaston is—John Dale."
A lurking familiarity of feature gained power in Drew's memory of Gaston. It linked itself into other details. He had always known Gaston had a hidden cause for being in St. Angé. Yes; he was John Dale.
For Drew to become convinced was for him to act upon the impulse of his warm heart.
"Ruth, dear," he whispered, "make yourself comfortable. I will go to him."
Then Ruth raised her hands to hold him back. Her voice was deep and awed.
"No!" she commanded "neither you nor I, Ralph, is fit to enter—there. A miracle has been performed up among the pines. A man and woman have been created—that we are not worthy to—touch!"