I. Mam'selle Jo Is Set Free
II. Mam'selle Must Buy a Husband
III. Mam'selle Does Not Buy a Husband
IV. But Mam'selle Makes a Vow
V. Enter Donelle
VI. Mam'selle Hears Part of the Truth
VII. Marcel Takes Her Stand by Jo
VIII. The Priest and the Road Mender
IX. Woman and Woman
X. Pierre Gets His Revenge
XI. The Great Decision
XII. The Hidden Current Turns
XIII. The Inevitable
XIV. A Choice of Roads
XV. The Look
XVI. The Story
XVII. The Blighting Truth
XVIII. Tom Gavot Settles the Matter
XIX. The Confession
XX. Gavot Gets His Call
XXI. Donelle at Last Sees Tom
XXII. Norval Comes Back
XXIII. Both Norval and Donelle--See
XXIV. The Glory Breaks Through
*LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS*
"Jo Morey was forty and as dark as a midwinter day deprived of the
sanctifying warmth of the sun. She was formed for service, not charm" .
. . _Frontispiece_
"At the foot of the cross, her head bowed and her tears falling, Donelle
shivered and prayed"
"Tom looked at her. He saw the thrill of life, adventure, and youth
shake her. He saw with an old, old understanding that because he was
going away, alone, upon the road, he meant to her what he never could
have meant had he remained"
"'Indeed, Mr. Norval, it is your sacred duty to tell it to--to that girl
in Canada. You promised and she ought to know'"
*LIST OF CHARACTERS*
This is a story of a woman who having no beauty of face or form was
deprived for a time of the beautiful things of life.
Then she prayed to the God of men and He gave her material success.
Having this she raised her eyes from the earth which had been her
battlefield and made a vow that she would take what was possible from
the odds and ends of happiness and weave what she could into love and
service.
Through this she won a reward far beyond her wildest dreams and found
peace and joy.
"You are a strange man"--she said to him who discovered her.
"You are a very strange woman, Mam'selle"--he returned.
Besides these two there are:
Captain Longville--and his wife Marcel.
Pierre Gavot--and his wife Margot who found life paid because of her boy
Tom.
Old Father Mantelle--more friend than priest who helped them all.
But Dan Kelly--of Dan's Place--better known as The Atmosphere--made life
difficult for them all.
Then after a time the Lindsays of the Walled House drew things together
and opened a new vista. Here we find:
Man-Andy; called by some, The Final Test, or Old Testy.
James Norval--who had some talent and an occasional flash of genius.
Katherine Norval, his wife, who from the highest motives nearly drove
him to hell.
There are Sister Angela with the convenient memory and Little Sister
Mary with the Lost Look.
Mary Maiden who happened into the story for a second only.
And lastly: Tom Gavot who dreamed of roads, played with roads, made
roads, and at last found The Right Road which led him to the top, from
that high point he saw--who can tell what?
And--Donelle who early prayed that she might be part of life and vowed
that she was willing to suffer and pay. Life took her at her word, and
used her.
*MAM'SELLE JO*
*CHAPTER I*
*MAM'SELLE JO IS SET FREE*
One late afternoon in September Jo Morey--she was better known in the
village of Point of Pines as Mam'selle Jo--stood on the tiny lawn lying
between her trim white house and the broad highway, lifted her eyes from
the earth, that had long been her battlefield, and murmured aloud as
lonely people often do,
"Mine! Mine! Mine!"
She did not say this arrogantly, but, rather, reverently. It was like a
prayer of appreciation to the only God she recognized; a just God who
had crowned her efforts with success. Not to a loving God could
Mam'selle pray, for love had been denied her; not to a beautiful God,
for Jo had yet to find beauty in her hard and narrow life; but to the
Power that had vindicated Itself she was ready to do homage.
"Mine! Mine! Mine!"
Jo was forty and as dark as a midwinter day deprived of the sanctifying
warmth of the sun. She was short and muscular, formed for service, not
charm. Her mouth was the mouth of a woman who had never known rightful
self-expression; her nose showed character, but was too strong for
beauty; heavy brows shaded her eyes, shielding them from the
idly-curious, but when those eyes were lifted one saw that they had been
in God's keeping and preserved for happier outlooks. They were
wonderful eyes. Soft brown with the sheen of horsechestnut.
Mam'selle's attire was as unique as she was herself. It consisted, for
the most part, of garments which had once belonged to her father who had
departed this life fifteen years before, rich in debts and a bad
reputation; bequeathing to his older daughter his cast-off wardrobe and
the care of an imbecile sister.
Jo now plunged her hands in the pockets of the rough coat; she planted
her feet more firmly in the heavy boots much too large for her and, in
tossing her head backward, displaced the old, battered felt hat that
covered the lustrous braids of her thick, shining hair.
Standing so, bare headed, wide eyed, and shabby, Jo was a dramatic
figure of victory. She looked at the neatly painted house, the hill
rising behind it crowned with a splendid forest rich in autumn tints.
Then her gaze drifted across the road to the fine pastures which had
yielded a rare harvest; to the outhouses and barns that sheltered the
wealth chat had been lately garnered. The neighing of Molly, the strong
little horse; the rustling of cows, chickens, and the grunting of pigs
were like sounds of music to her attentive ears. Then back to the house
roved the keen but tender eyes, and rested upon the massive wood pile
that flanked the north side of the house beginning at the kitchen door
and ending, only, within a few feet of the highway.
This trusty guardian standing between Jo and the long, cold winter that
lurked not far off, filled her with supreme content. Full well she knew
that starting with the first log, lying close to her door, she might
safely count upon comfort and warmth until late spring without
demolishing the fine outline of the sturdy wall at the road-end!
That day Jo had paid the last dollar she owed to any man. She had two
thousand dollars still to her credit; she was a free woman at last!
Free after fifteen years of such toil and privation as few women had
ever known.