Joyce of the North Woods

Billy ate long and uninterruptedly. Peggy supplied his demands before they were voiced, and Maggie, the small and unimpressed sister, eyed him from across the table with keen, u...

Joyce stopped her wild little song, and stood still to listen. Then she stepped to the window, drew aside the white muslin curtain, and looked out upon the white, white world.

There was only a path leading from the highway to John Gaston's shack. A path wide enough for a single traveller, and the dark pointed pines guarded it on either side until with...

Joyce, waiting in the solitude of the shack under the pines, heard and saw little of what was going on in St. Angé. She was living at high pressure, and she had not even the rel...

When he had entered his home the night before, God knew he had been sorely distressed. He was going back to the woman he loved with her fetters still unloosened. Worn and spent,...

Joyce did not faint, nor did she lose consciousness. A dull quiet possessed her, and, had she tried to explain her state of mind, she would have said she was thinking things out.

It was mid-October when Ralph Drew, his pretty sister Constance and his devoted maiden aunt--Miss Sally Drew--arrived in St. Angé and took up their new life in the bungalow whic...

At last she and Jude were back in the awful, quiet house. It was more awful now that Jude was there. For after the burial, and before the evening meal, he had been lessening his...

The man lying flat on the rock which crusted Beacon Hill raised his head with a snake-like motion, and then let it fall back again upon his folded arms. His body had not moved;...

The late September afternoon held almost summer heat as it flooded St. Angé. The breeze gave a promise of crispness as it passed fitfully through the pines; but on the whole a c...

Jared Birkdale, with a contemplative eye, looked at his daughter through the haze of his tobacco smoke as if seeing her for the first time. In a way this was so. He was not one...

The late spring had delayed the logging season. The winter had been a long-continued, cold one; the men at the different camps had fretted under the postponed ending of their jo...

Jock Filmer was coming to the belief that there was a Destiny shaping _his_ ends _roughly_, smooth-hew them as he had ever tried to do. Jock was pursued, there was no doubt of t...

"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-...

Drew waited until after Christmas before he took a decided part in the affairs of Gaston and Joyce. Indeed he purposely avoided any information regarding what was going on at th...

"Oh! it was all so foolish!" she answered smiling feebly. "If he--if Mr. Gaston had sent it, don't you see that there would have been no need of this mystery? But is it Jude or...

When Joyce went with bowed head from the only semblance of a home that had ever been hers, she carried with her, in the rough basket, all that she could rightfully call her own...

Gaston often took a trip to Hillcrest, remaining several days, at times, and Joyce never questioned. Gradually she had accepted the place in Gaston's life that he had allotted h...

The word had passed along, and all St. Angé knew that Jock Filmer had a raw specimen of a parson up at his shack, in safe keeping for the Sunday events. For Joyce's wedding-day...

Billy arose the morning after his eventful evening, with a feeling of physical discomfort. He attributed it to his neglected duty, when in reality it was merely a disordered sto...

Fifty years before this story began, St. Angé was a lumber camp; the first gash in that part of the great Solitude to the north, which lay across Beacon Hill, three miles from H...

The Methodist minister from Hillcrest had preached for full an hour over the tiny casket. Not often did the clergyman have so good an opportunity to tell the St. Angéans what he...