"Ah! but that was before I played my game, Tom." And Pierre had given an ugly laugh. "They took the girl and put her out of our reach, they thought; even the good Father frowned at that. He tried to speak the truth up at the Walled House, but they would not hear. The girl was kept from knowing, and the pride of her was enough to make an honest soul sick. She looked down on us—us! But I waited my chance and when I got it, I flung the truth in her white face, and it sort of did for her! I saw that the pride they had put in her couldn’t stand mud! "And so she’s here, Mam’selle’s girl, and when one is not over particular and knows the worst, he can take and make—— What’s the matter? Leave off shaking me, Tom. I’m your old father! Mother of Heaven, let me go!" But Tom, holding the brute by the shoulders, was shaking him like a bag of rags. The flaming young eyes were looking into the bleary, old ones, looking with hate and loathing. The tie that held the two together added horror to the situation. "You—did this thing, you! You killed my mother; you have tried to damn everything you ever touched; you pushed this young girl into hell—you! And you tell me I can pull her out, in order to shove her back? You! "Well, then, hear me! I’ll try, God helping me, to get her out, but nothing that belongs to you shall harm her. And if your black tongue ever touches her or hers, I’ll kill you, so help me God!" Then Pierre found himself panting and blubbering on the floor with Tom rising above him. "Father Mantelle shall know of this," groaned Gavot. "He’ll put the curse of the Church on you." "I’ll fling him beside you, if he dares speak of this thing." Actual horror now spread over Pierre’s face. If natural ties and the fear of the Church were defied, where did authority rest? "See here," poor Tom, having conquered his father, was now conquering himself, "see here. So long as you keep your tongue where it belongs, I will see that you do not want, but I’m going to be near enough to _know_ and keep you to the line. I couldn’t breathe in this hole, it’s too full of—of dead things, but I’ll be near, remember that." And Pierre accepted the terms. He grovelled in spirit before this son of his, and his lips were free of guile while he ate and drank and slept and hated. And the others, too, left Jo and Donelle alone. There seemed nothing else to do, so the little flurry fell into calm as the winter settled. *CHAPTER XII* *THE HIDDEN CURRENT TURNS* The winter passed and spring came. Point of Pines awoke late but very lovely. Mam’selle and Donelle had at last burned the old clothes of the long-dead Morey. That phase, at least, was done with and much else had been laid on the pyre with them. "And you came just because you wanted to, child?" Jo often asked when she even yet doubted her right to happiness.