e thought of Gaston--but he no longer suggested safety to her. She
thought of Lauzoon, and a wave of fear and repulsion swept over her. She
knew she was driven to him. She knew she must accept whatever fate he
offered, but with the remnant of her intuitive belief in her personal
charm and beauty, she paused at the edge of the wood, to plan some sort
of attitude that would secure Jude's admiration as well as his
protection. She must not call upon him in a moment of weakness and
defeat. That would be putting a weapon in his hand that no St. Ange man
could be trusted to wield mercifully.

She must hide all traces of outraged feeling; she must find a vantage
point from which Jude might take her. He must come to her; she must not
go to him. Thus she pondered. For one wild instant she turned her face
toward Hillcrest. There were those over the hill who might give her
work--what work? What could she do? But granting that she obtained work,
how long could she retain a position, with her father and Jude in
pursuit? No; she was a product of St. Ange and had all the faltering
distrust of other environments common to the shrinking childhood of the
poor village.

Down beside the last tree of the thicket the girl crouched with her
shabby basket beside her.

The elemental woman in her saw, as clearly as any cultivated sister
might have seen, that if she hoped for success in her married life, she
must not throw herself upon Jude crushed and downed. A brave front must
be the breastwork behind which she was to fight.

When she had told her father she was going to Isa Tate, she had spoken
wildly; but the inevitable closed upon her. Every one went to Leon Tate
in trouble. Leon, like the old gods, first made mad whom he wished to
destroy; for the trust that all St. Ange put in Leon's bland generosity
was nothing short of madness. When any difficulty arose, private or
public, it was carried to the Black Cat for adjustment and final
settlement. By putting every individual under deep obligation to him,
Leon controlled money, loyalty and obedience. Every man in St. Ange was
in his debt, and every woman had accepted, in some form or other, his
wife's services. The difference between Isa and her husband was,
however, vital. Tate was a friend to man in order that he might draw his
victims into his net. Isa had a woman's soul hidden under her rough
exterior and, while she played the part assigned her by her diplomatic
lord, she found comfort fo