CALL OF THE HEART

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23020, 23 April 1938, Page 15 (Supplement)

CALL OF THE HEART

She was wedded to the city, she told the villager—but the Bow Boy was ah eavesdropper, and took a hand

THE letter Fay Marlow was feading contained exciting news. Mary, her younger sister, was going to marry Fred Wharton, and Mary wanted Fay to come home for the big event. A trip home and a wedding! Her eyes aglow with excitement, Fay sat up straight in the big chair and commenced to plan. In her mind's evp she saw again the little fishing village of Banyon, Nova Scotia, that was her birthplace. The sen, the fishing boats, the hearty fisher-folk, they were part of her very being, yet but two years before she had declared that Banvon was the dullest place on earth and had come to Kew York. Had left all behind her, including Jim Saxton; big, laughingfliyed Jim. But she must certainly be present at Mary's wedding. Two days later she stepped off the train at Banyon. It was when she had climbed the narrow stairs to the room she had always shared with Mary that something of ..her old impatience and revolt returned. The room was little more than an attic. Fay thought longingly of her era cosy room in New York. It's not very tidy," Mary apologised, looking at the heap of clothing ■upon the bed and the wedding presents scattered about. " And here are my Jhings," Mary went on, turning to her trousseau. " Father and mother have had to put out a lot on the wedding feast., You daren't pass up one soul herei There wasn't much left for me." Fay looked, shuddered inwardly and thought swiftly. There were the new junderthings she had bought for' herself. She could wear old ones; it was Alary who was the bride-to-be. I" They're lovely, Mary," she lied. '"But I brought you some from New iYork. You wait until I unpack." "Thank you!" Mary smiled. "But J told Fred 1 hadn't much." "What did Ihe say? " .4 "I can't tell you," Mary said to&iy. . - ... ~ The wedding was fixed for eight o'clock on Saturday night. No Banyon wedding ever took place at. any other hour. The boats were in by then and Ihe men had had time to shave, wash ind dress. All through the ceremony, Fay stood rith her eyes lifted up to the high window. She listened intently to the beautiful words of the marriage service. Kll death. Marv giving herself up at 19 to Banyon, while a whole fascinating world lay beyond the horizon. 'At the sumptuous wedding supper Fay found -herself seated next to Jim Baxtou. "Jiml" she gasped. "It can't be jrou!" "And why notP " he asked. " Well, I—l heard that, after I left, you also went away; that you had left' Banyon for good.' " I did," he acknowledged, " but I had to be present at Mary's wedding. Now, perhaps. I'll be staying." " Staying? Fay hoped he would not notice the slight tremor in her voice. "Didn't you get on very well away from here? " "Well, in town I took up auto engineering," he explained. 'I got along all right and am now in charge pf a big garage." , „ "But you don't like itP "No, Fay." He shook his head. "I teallv belong to the sea, but —well,

after you left I just couldn't stick it here." There was no time for more as the talk became general, but Fay's thoughts were back to a June night two years ago when Jim- had held her in hi 3 arms and begged her not to leave Banyon. ■ :, She opened her lips to speak when Granny \Vilke3 interrupted. " Well, Fay." she called across the table. " are ye not proud to be back among your own folk? " " Oh, I don't know," Fay teased. "Don't know!" shrilled Granny. " Look at 'Jim. He visits us every chance he gets. It's only flie thinblooded that can stay away. B,eal ones answer the call of their hearts."

Fay and drew her into the dressing room.

"Fay," she said nervously, "Fred and I want to go. Don't let them follow us. You know what they'll do. They'll want to carrv us into our new homo and sing and celebrate till morning. They'd never understand that we want to be alone." ' % All that was sensitive in Fay responded. " I understand, Mary." she agreed. " I'll try to keep them back." " Then first find Fred and tell him I'm ready." Mary whispered. Fay slipped back into the crowded hall and went to her mother. " Get hold of Fred," she whispered. " Keep him in the dressing room for a few minutes, then tell them to steal awav by the west road." Then Fay beckoned Jim. " You and I are to be bride and bridegroom for a minutes," she explained. " Mary and Fred want to dodge the crowd. You're about Fred's size and I'm Mary's. We've got to fool this gang." Jim grinned and in- a couple of minutes they were running hand-in-hand along the rough road under the cliff.

" Perhaps I'll come back when I'm old," Fay smiled. "That 11 be too late," Granny chided. "It's few that wants ye-then." "Stay now," dim whispered. Fav shook her head. " What do you want that you can't get here? " "Oh" —vaguely—"work. Pleasure. Good times, People. Everything that makes life worth living."

" Work," Jim said quietly. " Working for a boss? It's only in a place like this that everybody, is his own boss. And the other things—pleasure—■ friends —well, yon've got a big hall full of friends here, haven't you? ' Fay evaded: "I'm not a cabbage, Jim. When I "feel like becoming one I'll come back for keeps." The feast ended and the revelry began. At midnight, Mary sought out

" They're after us," panted Jim, " but we can hold our lead for long enough." At the far end of the village they were overtaken. Great guffaws went pealing up to high heaven.. Banyon folks were nothing- if not hearty. Then Fay said, " This* is where I leave you, Jim." " No. you don't," Jim protested. " I'm seeing you home."

" Not to-night, Jim, please," Fay insisted, shaken by the race and his nearness.

" Very well." He turned away, his eyes hurt.

Fay walked home slowly, halting when she came to her favourite seat, a curiously shaped rock that was one of her earliest memories. She sat there for a long time, listening to the lonely wash of tlie sea, watching the gleaming fmth flashed across tho water from the iglithouso. The happenings of the past few hourn had stirred deep emotions that had lain dormant for a long time, and presently she was aware that her cheeks were wet with tears.

" Oh," she whispered tremulously. "I wonder what it is I really >ao want P "

On tho Monday afternoon following, Fay paid Mary her first visit in her new home. /- -

" Well," she teased, " and how does Fred like being married? " " Ask him," laughed Mary. They made tea and sat down to chat. Fay told all of the story of the way she and Jim had fooled the guests. " And then did he come home with youP " Mary asked. " I wanted to go home alone." Mary tossed her head. " Oh, Fay, why don't you marry him and settle down in Banyon? Think of the good times we'd have. What's the good of having a sister if she's miles and miles away? " " Fay did not reply. It would only hurt if she explained that having once got away from Banyon and made a

Short Story (Copyri&kt) By C. y. TENCH

niche for herself in the business world outsido, she owed it to herself to keep on the lines she. had chosen. It would be surrender to return now. Mary had risen and walked over to the front window. "What are you looking forp " Fay asked. " The boats." answered Mary. " It's close to their time." "Wouldn't it be terrible," Mary went on, " to stand like this and watch and them never to come, or only some of them? " "Yes," Fay agreed. That was the tremendous discipline that kept human relations in that little corner of" the earth sharper and sweeter- "than most. There wasn't a woman in Banyon who would let her husband or sons go outin the morning Without a smile and a kiss. "Oh, here they come!" Mary exclaimed and danced back to the table. " Now, out of my way, please, Fay Marlow, till I get" my husband's supper ready." Fay felt strangely out of it. Mary had all of a sudden become a different being. She radiated a joyous, gaiety in which Fay had no place. " Fay, dear," Mary added shyly. " Will you do me a favour? " "What?" " Well —you see—" Mary hesitated. " It —itTs the first time Fred has come home from fishing like this—to his own home." " You want mo to go? " "You don't mind? ' "Of course not." Fay smiled and kissed her sister. She walked up the path to the top of the cliffs slowly and thoughtfully, and there leaned over the fence to watch the boats come in. A car came along behind her and stopped. She turned quickly. "Why, Jim! " " Hello! " he smiled, coming over and leaning on the fence beside her. " Watching the boats? " " Yes." " It's a scene I think of often when I'm away," he said. The fishermen were now hailing each other, chatting in little groups. Fay caught something of wistfulness in Jim's eyes as he watched them. " Why don't you go down among them? '* i " They don't want me," he Baid quietly. " I'm not one of them now. This garage and auto business, you see." They saw Fred detaching himself from the others, striding quickly homeward. "There's Fred," said Jim. Fay nodded. Neither would have admitted envy nor anything of blank, futile loneliness that both felt. Jim-asked: " You'll be going back to the city soon, Fay? " " To-morrow night." " Don't go," he pleaded. Fay dared not look at him, as Bhe asked: " Why not, Jim? I'm not going to give up the good job I've worked so hard to get, just because I've become sentimental over a few boats and a wedding." " That is not the real Fay talking," he replied. " And, Fay, a life that is all business and no sentiment can be pretty dreary, you know. Anyway, I think that we are both utruggling in vain against something that's altogether too big for us." He gestured toward the boats. " All this is bred right in us, Fay. Wherever we go this will tug at our heartstrings. It is foolish to wear our- ] selves out fighting the call of our hearts, don't you think? "

Fay did not'reply; she was afraid to trust her voice.

Jim spoke again. " Well, good luck to you, Fay—and—good-bye." , :

" Good-bye, Jim," she managed, and it seemed as if something of her went with him as he drove away. Back in New York Fay fought against homesickness and overwhelming restlessness. The savour had gone from life.' Her job was monotonous^ " Just what sort of life is it," she began to ask herself, " imprisoned in an office: all day long? "

The pleasures that she had formerly enjoyed now seemed empty. Shows and their love scenes, that had fed her dreams and thrilled hCr before, now drove a knife right through her heart.

Something of the change in her crept into her letters to Mary, and from Mary to Jim Saxton. So it was not altogether chance that brought a welltimed letter from Jim when she was all but going to pieces from loneliness. " I've given up the garage business," he wrote. "My heart was never really in it. I've saved enough to buy a boat of mv own, and I daresay Mary has told you that Granny Wilkes left me her cottage. I want to go and livo in it, but I don't want to live alone. " Fay, dearest, won't you please heed the call of your heart? " To-day Fay watches tho fishing boats go out and come in, her eyes always happilv searching for the one thai holds Jim, her husband.