Well, she was ready. The bewitching smile played over her face. Tiptoeing across the bedroom floor, she noiselessly unfastened the door, and silently reached Gaston's side.
He had quite forgotten her. Weary from the day's work, perplexed by later developments, with closed eyes, and hands clasped behind his head, he was lost in thought.
Joyce touched him lightly, and he looked up.
She had taken him off guard. Her bewildering beauty attacked his senses while his shield of Purpose was down.
"Good God!" he exclaimed staring at her. "You--you glorious creature!"
She laughed, and the sound thrilled the man as her beauty did. It was new, and wonderful. He staggered to his feet and reached out to her like a man blinded by a sudden glare.
She evaded his touch, and gave that wild little laugh again.
"You like it?" she asked, from across the table.
"I had a mad fancy to see just how great your--beauty was."
"What any man would think," Gaston's excitement was rising, "who had been starved for--years--and then finds all he's hungered for--alone in the North Woods. Think?"
The breaking of a flaming log startled them, and it steadied Gaston for a moment. Joyce had herself well in hand. The victory was hers if only she could command this new power long enough.
"Please," she pleaded, "please sit down. I have something to say to you."
Gaston sank back in his chair, and Joyce sat down opposite. The table was between them, and the light of the fire and lamp flooded over the girl.
She was wonderful in that gown, and with her splendid, pale hair framing her face with its fair glory.
The shock of surprise was passing, but Gaston still looked at the girl as if he had never seen her before.
"What is it, Joyce?" he asked presently; "what has changed you so?" Then he smiled, for the question seemed crude and ill-advised.
"I do not mean the dress--there is something else."
"So there is--but it came with the dress. Perhaps you--did not order that--well, then, it must be _your_ part of the surprise. Don't you remember that story you read to me once--about the mantle of Elijah? You know it made the humble wearer--great. Well, these pretty things,"--she touched them lightly--"they make me--a woman. The sort of woman who must--ask questions--and get answers--true answers."