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.

"Jude!" she whispered hoarsely; "Jude!"

A falling log started the others to a redder glow. The face of the man
upon the floor lay exposed. The eyes were open--but unseeing, and Joyce
knew that Jude was frozen to death!

She made no cry. Had she been capable of sensation she would have gone
mad, but she was conscious of no emotion whatever.

The room grew hotter and brighter. She drew away from that horrible
shape upon the floor. She must forget it or her head would burst. In the
morning, and it would soon be morning, she could go for help--but for
now she must forget.

Still creeping, she regained the fireplace; there she huddled with her
back to--that long black shadow. Yes; it was but a shadow. She would not
think of it but as a shadow.

She braced against the chimney corner, and set her face to the warm,
soothing light. Once she stirred and threw on more wood, then she
returned to her corner; and kept her eyes in one direction.

An hour passed. The slight form by the fire relaxed, and sank gradually
to an easy position far enough away from the fire to be safe. The pretty
head fell upon a bundle that had earlier been dropped carelessly
there--and a great peace rested on the worn face. Suffering,
hopelessness and fear fled as the calm gently settled from brow to chin;
and all that was conscious of Joyce Lauzoon drifted into the oblivion
that has never been fathomed.

Behind the sealed doors--the miracle was performed. The spirit freed
from its suffering body--but not claimed by Death--was strengthened and
purified. Where it fared--who can tell? How near the Source of eternal
things it wandered none may kn