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The words had the effect of paralyzing Dale. Had this woman taken a life in self-preservation? Then the sweet, innocent calm of her face rea.s.sured him. Jude was dead! Every barrier was removed--every obstacle overcome.
Dale rushed toward her with outstretched arms. The look on his face awed Joyce--but before she was swept into a bliss that might not be rightfully hers, she shrank from him. She put her hands out pleadingly as if imploring him to withhold what her soul was hungering for. Dale understood.
"Joyce--I have been home. They have told me--all!"
"All?" Joyce panted the one word. "All?"
"Yes. Everything. Now--will you come?"
To his dying day Dale was never to forget the look she cast upon him as he and she stood alone in the white trackless forest.
Love, such love as worn-out civilization knows not, took possession of Joyce Lauzoon. A love that controlled and uplifted.
Dale waited--then she came to him, glorious and strong in her power of joy-giving. She clasped her hands around his neck, and lifted her face to his; their lips met and their eyes grew wondrously tender.
"And now,"--it was Joyce who recalled him to duty--"where shall we go?"
His promise to Drew followed close on the question; and Ruth Dale's farewell to him as she slipped from his life came with a new meaning.
"Sweet," he whispered, "they are waiting for us--Drew, and my sister, Ruth Dale."
THE END
