of her
baby had tugged at his feelings.

So _that_ was what mother-love meant the world over?

A sharp, quick knock startled him. Gaston rose at once. He knew upon the
instant who it was. He knew that from some dire necessity Joyce was
calling for his aid.

There was no time nor inclination for him to fall back upon that inner
sense of his and seek to peer beyond the present and its need. He strode
to the door, flung it open, and Joyce and the terrific storm burst into
the room together!

"He--he's driven me from the house." The girl's wild face made
unnecessary the idle question that Gaston spoke.

"Who?"

"Jude." Then Gaston shut and barred the heavy door. He could at least
exclude the rain and wind.

"Look here! and here!" the girl pointed to her bruised face upon which
the storm's moisture rested, and the slender arm with its brutal mark.

"Good God!" ejaculated Gaston, as he gazed in horror, "and on this day!"

Rage against Jude, tenderness for Jude's victim, struggled hotly in
Gaston's mind; but presently a divine pity for the girl alone consumed
him.

Her misery was appalling. Now that she was comparatively safe, bodily
weakness overpowered her. She swayed, and put her hands out childishly
for support--any support that might steady her as her world went black.

Gaston caught her and placed her gently in his deep, low chair.

"Poor girl!" he murmured, "Poor Joyce! You're as wet as a leaf. Here!"
He quickly brought one of the red blankets from the inner room. "Here,
let me at least wrap you in something dry. And now drink this, it will
do you good."

He poured some wine into a glass and held it to her blue, cold lips.

"Come, Joyce! We'll straighten things out. Trust me."

She gulped the warming wine, and shivered in the blanket's muffling
comfort.

"And now," Gaston was flinging logs on the blazing embers, "you're
coming around. Whatever it is, Joyce, it isn't worth all this agony of
yours."

"I'm--I'm afraid they'll come and kill us." Joyce's eyes widened and the
old fear seized her again. The momentary comfort and thought of safety
lost their hold.

"In God's name, Joyce, hush! You're safe and I'm not afraid. Come, don't
you see if you want me to help you, you must pull yourself together?"

"Yes; yes; and we--I must hurry."

Now that he had time to think, Gaston knew pretty well what had
occurred. The vulgar details did not matter. The one important and
hideous fact was, that for some