JOAN of the GREAT HEART

Waikato Times, Volume 107, Issue 17981, 28 March 1930, Page 4

JOAN of the GREAT HEART

By May Wynne.

She winced as she listened to those last words. Had It not been his heart’s desire she had wished for Michael? and had she not believed her love would be that desire? And it might 'be that even amongst the beauties of Italy 'Mi'chael still dreamed of the goal they had both seen before them as they sLood in the gardens of Hampton Court and in the dear old studio at home. So, since she thought of Michael, handsome, eager, a comrade who had been linked with her through vicissitudes such as poverty and genius know so well, she had nothing to give, nothing to offer to the successful man of the world who sat looking down at her as she leaned forward gazing into the Are. But the pity of it was that Anthony Hssterloes knew nothing of the trend of fhe girl’s thoughts, lie believed her heart was but a white page on which no name had been written; he was quietly convinced that he would be the man to write his own name there. She was only a child in so much—a woman only in her devotion and sacrifice to the father who had been her all in all. Yet, that was where Lcsterlecs blundered. lie had believed so implicitly in the single-

eyed devotion of the painter and his lovely daughter, and lie had told himself again and again that if lie would have patience, standing aside whilst Derrick Ilardalc panted out hj s little span of life in the comfort lie was able to provide Joan would naturally turn to him in her loneliness' and desolation for the comfort and love he would he so ready to give. There would be no talk of love or marriage till the grave had closed over the father’s head. Then it would be ids opportunity; then he would have his reward. And all the-' while . . . those dreaming eyes which gazed into the red heart of the fire saw the laughing face of a young man, who stretched upward to draw a branch of flowering almond down into the grasp of a dark-eyed Italian girl. “But it can’t bo the girl he loves,” thought Joan, for the hundredth time; “he could not have changed so quickly. He loved me, and love doesn’t change or die just because of a few months’ absence. One day he will come back . . . and forgive me because 1 had to keep him waiting for Love’s sake.” j She rose as she came to that happy j conclusion, and the light of the dream was still jn her eyes as she said goodnight to Lesterlees. “To-morrow I will go and see Erica. I am so sorry for her," she said; “it must be terrible to love a bad man. I wonder if it will really make any difference. 1 mean if It will kill her love.” She was still conning over the problem as she went upstairs. CHAPTER XII.

/Mine Sandall had come bade to the Grange. How glad Joan was. It made it so much easier for her. When she went 1 the second time to visit Erica Baydell I she no longer found the heart-broken, j despairing woman, Mrs Baydoll had | rallied from her weakness, and prej sented, at least outwardly, a culm and sphinx-like reserve. “I would rather not talk of a most j unhdppy incident in my life,” she told Joan; ‘‘the page Is closed, and it would be very painful to reopen it. ! I have told the police all I know, The ; | —the man who called himself Boris j

Felton-—has disappeared, and will probably never be found. Wc think lie has left the country. Every one—with (he usual isolated exceptions—have been very good to me. They have shown a consideration I probably do not, deserve. Most people expect I shall leave the neighbourhood, but I assure them 1 have not Hie least intention of doing so. Most people make mistakes. A large percentage go so far as to make fools of themselves. I am sorry to be amongst the number. Aline is behaving like a I rue friend. So are you and Anthony. That finishes that. Now tell mo how that cheery father of yours is getting on.” “Very well,” said Joan, who was wholly in sympathy with Mrs Baydcll’s summing up, and secretly admired her pluck and nerve; “and when Christmas is over Anthony is talking about taking us to the South of France. The I specialist advises i(. Won’t it he j gorgeous? 1 have never been out of England.” “You will be married before you go?” asked Mrs Baydell, and as she was speaking Aline Sandall entered the room. Joan flushed up, shaking her head. “Oh, no!” she replied emphatically. “I—l don’t want to be married for a long lime. I am only eighteen.” “And Tony is thirty-three. You i forget his viewpoint.” “No, 1 don’t,” replied Joan; “and he j lias not asked me lo marry him before we go. He has never thought of such a thing." “Oh, yes, lie has," laughed Erica., who was glad lo talk ol' someone else’s affairs rather than her own. “And I am sure he would lie delighted as the thought of a honeymoon in the lUviora. You will have to consider it. child. Tony Is such a splendid fellow; he deserves reward.” Joan rose lo go. “He is—-splendid," she agreed. “I tin hope he will have a very happv life." Aline Sandall raised her eyebrows. “Why such a sigh,” she asked meaningly, when wc sec the happiness assured?” But Joan did not sec any necessity to answer the question. The weather had set in that grim severity in these Decembers days, and as the sharp frosts induced fog after recent rains there was very little going out for any one. Christmas passed very quietly at Ihc Court. Lestcrlces went up north directly after to'he present at Christmas festivities given to the men to whom lie had brought, prosperity and comfort. He loved (hose sturdy Lancastrians and they loved him. His visits to old scenes always gave him pleasure, though lie had no hankering to go back there lo live. ,11is home in Berkshire suited him perfectly, and ho liked being near the capital. The visit of his to his old business home had a special allraclion this time as there would be congratulations o n his engagement, and questions n.s to his marriage. There could he nothing said definitely about the latter, though llardalo had spoken on the subject to his prospective son-in-law. “I shall not live much longer,” he said, “and 1 should like to see Joan married before J go. 1 shrill (ell her. so. J believe she will yield to myj wish. She is very young to be left to J

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face the world, Lesterlees, and I want to give her to your care.” '■ “It is my dearest wish,” said Anthony quietly. “Joan knows that. It is for her to decide.” And it was to Joan Hardale carried his request on that Christmas night. "I want you to make me very happy, girl o’ mine,” he said. “I want you to allow me to give you, myself, to the man you have chosen for husband.” Joan, startled, dismayed, and wholly unprepared, cried out that it was impossible. and Lesterlees went north without his answer. But when he had gone Hardale repeated his request with rare importunity. “I can trust you to him,” he urged. “Give me this happiness, Joan.” “Why all this new hurry?" she pleaded. “You are belter, and we are going to Cannes in January. On our return we can think of it. A winter wedding is so dreary.” “A spring one will be too late for me,” said Hardale sadly, and Joan, in a sudden passionate agony or love and | tenderness, gave him his request. “You can fix up any date you like,

my darling, darling daddy,’’ she said. How happy he looked 1 She never forgot how they sat together over the lire, his hand in hers, whilst lie told over all his old days of how he wed her mother. Joan listened with a lump in her throat and foreboding at her heart. And the next day he had a new whim, which he insisted should be gratified. “Leslei'lecs must get a special license, and you can be married on

) the 6th of January—Twelfth Night’’— I said he. “Old Christmas Day, they j called it. And I am going up to : Hampstead to-day, Joan. There are some special treasures I have stored away—your mother’s veil and other keepsakes which 1 want her child to wear on her wedding day. I must go myself. No one else can find—or may I touch them.” Joan was horrified. I “It is much too cold,” she urged. J “You will only lie very ill. Wait and see if the weather breaks. There are ten days to the Gth.” She felt that Nemesis was overtaking her, hut she was powerless t.o arrest its march. Only ten days more and she would be Lesterlees’ wife. .Michael would return too late. And yet Dad must have his way. She could never, never forgive heiself if she withheld his dearest wish from the best dad in the world. Mrs Alton was consulted, and finally TTardale and his daughter set off for London in the smaller car. Seton, the chauffeur, drove them; and a telephone message from Lesterlees gave the order to the man to wait in town and bring them back. “Is it wise, this journey?” Lesterlees asked. “What does your father want? Can’t a servant take a message or bring anything hack?” And Joan, her' heart throbbing wildly, merely answered that her father would not he galnsayed. She did not add that the listener’s wedding had been fixed for a date only ten days hence. Anthony was returning

j on the 30th —and that would, give ! plenty of time for arrangements to be j made. i so—-the secret was kept between ! father and daughter. Old Nannie j would be the first outsider to know ! the fact. I It was a bitter journey, and in spite j of every comfort Hardale’s face was j grey before they reached Hampstead, j “You must not look through that i j drawer to-night, darling," coaxed Joan; “we will light the Arc in your room early and you can go through everything. We can start to Rawton on Friday.” “I should like to look now,” persisted her father. “I shall be quite all right after supper. One of Nannie's omelettes will make a young man of mo, but I am glad wo did not ask any of our old friends to corne in. Tomorrow evening wc shall have a Bohemian ‘at homo,’ and I shall present the bride. Now bring that drawer out and let me look at all my treasures. Ah, Joan—such treasures!” lie reminisced over every tiny'

article he lifted out from that drawer where, like some sentimental girl, he had kept all the souvenirs of the past. Joan felt the tears brimming in her eves as she watched his tender smile i as he looked first at one object, then another, giving to each a cares* as lie laid it aside. (To be continued.)