JOAN of The Great Heart

Waikato Times, Volume 107, Issue 17983, 31 March 1930, Page 4

JOAN of The Great Heart

By May Wynne.

CHAPTER XH, — (Continued.) “It brings back memories, Joan,” lie said, “ memories of the golden years. Your mother was lovelier even than you, child, on the day I Look hei hand in mine and we went together to the old church on the hill. A lovely bride, and as good as she was beautiful. My darling Jean ... it only seems yesterday, and yet how long the time is since I saw her.” “ Yes, put them all back now, Joan, excepting the veil and the brooch, the ring and gold chain. You must wc;jr them on the 6th. I am a little 'tired now, girl o’ mine, so I will go to bed, (hough I don’t like leaving the fireside. I am glad to be back in the old studio. ’Lift aside the canvas, Joan, and let me have a look at that sketch I made of you in Cornwall. Always together, Joan —always together. That is what we like best, isn’t it?”

Joan gulped back her tears. “■Of course, it is, Daddy of Daddies," she whispered, “'I don't want anyone or anything in the world but you." He laughed softly. “ You’ll say that io someone else one day, Joan. And quite right too. I shan’t be there to be jealous. I shall be with your mother. I’m glad to be leaving you in the -care of a good, 'true man. We’ve not told Nannie about the wedding jet. Wc must tell her in Ihe morning, Joan. God bless you, child.” He held her rather longer than usual in his arms that night, his kiss was a lingering one, and ho smoothed back her hair to look deeper into hei blue eyes. A strange foreboding chilled Joans heart, and she asked him anxiously how he felt. Splendid, he told her, never better in his life. Looking over those old things had given him back his youth. Slfc thought of those last words when old Nannie came to her next morning, sobbing as if her heart would break, whilst she told Joan that her father had died in his sleep—smiling. Had passed to the wider life, and the icncwal of an eternal youth. Joan was the one to be pi Lied* At first she could hardly believe the tragedy which plunged her down into the depths. She was brave-—but courage faded her in the sudden shock of loss. Her own life seemed suddenly to be. cut short. She was surrounded ’by a loneliness which appalled her. She and her father had been inseparable

. and now he had gone. He was : silent for the first time when she cried to him. He smiled when she wept. As she knelt there it even seemed he had deserted her for the Jean of the bygone days, she was almost jealous of the happiness of those two. The coming of Anthony struck a new note into her despair. The note of fear- She must not tell, he must never know Daddy' had planned their wedding for the 6th of January. Of course, it was impossible now. She had escaped that. And yet Daddy had so longed for that marriage; she could never he so mean as to go back on her word now. It would be like breaking a promise to the dead. Naturally enough though after the funeral the question arose as to her immediate future. Lesterlees had been silent, nor did he spoil it by those little observances which stab us with their hopeless inadequacy about the gain death is to the dear one, and, that, some wise Purpose lies behind the pain. . . T “Tell me what will help most and l will do it?” said Lesterlees. “I know you will want to he alone at first. When you can talk you will know how I long to listen-” “ You are wonderful, replied Joan, and nearly told him of her father’s plan for Twelfth-night. But it was better not. She could not talk of marriage yet. In ihe spring she could tell Anthony she was ready to accept his claim. . , The thought of giving her life to his keeping did not awake fear or dread. He was so good—so kind. \nd long before the spring came she would know if Michael were ever returning ’to —her. That last thought was unuttered,. but it was theie. The house at Hampstead would pass into other hands - now. Nannie was going back io Bedfordshire to live with her married sister. The poor old woman was very tearful at thought of the parting, but it was her own fixing. Lesterlees would willingly have found a job for her at the Court. , “ What are your plans? Lesterlees asked at last, when business of his own called him home urgently. “ Will you stay for the present with nn sister? Aline Sandall is going to Kent lo live for the time anyhow with an old Airs Carraforcl, whose son has disappeared. \ou will rcmombei he is one of those whom Flenton snared. Aline is fond of Mrs Carraforcl who needs a companion. Erica will he delighted to have you—Lill we are married.” • • i Yvill go,” said Joan, rather listlessly, “ it will be much the best. Has Aline left?” . “ sue does not leave t.he neighbourhood. She is going lo help Mrs Carraford in her move- By Ihe way, I heard from Erica and she gave me a message for you. ‘Tell Joan, she says, ‘ that a Hampstead acquaintance of hers is staying near here; a Michael Gref ton, who is just hack from Italy. Aline met him out at dinner and liked him. He was amazed to hear of Joan’s engagement.’ ’’ CHAPTER XIII. He was amazed to hear of Joan’s Engagement. Joan read the words ■ feeling as if someone had struck her a physical blow. Oh, it was a very irony of Fate that Michael Grefton should enter her life again just as she was beginning lo feel she could live without him, just as she was feeling iu her gratitude for Anthony Lesterlees the glimmering of a very real affection. She had accustomed herself to look l'orj ward into a future where she saw herself as his wife and it had given her a sense of security. Sometimes, smiling, she had thought ol ttic illustration of the ‘rut,’ of conventioni alily in which one could lie down so ! comfortably. After all, there could I be happiness outside Bohemia. In her utter loneliness after her : father’s death this safe holding of a i well' ordered life filled her with a j sense of well-being. Anthony’s arms ! nke his love were so strong. There j would be none of the lighting upi stream which had from childhood ! pecn her altitude towards-life. Some-,' i times a fast, sometimes a feast, much

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laughter, some despair! No order, little discipline, love of the beautiful, hatred of things drab and commonplace. So she had lived —lill lately. And the other side of the picture was so much more attractive than she had been led to believe. There had been a peace, a calm tranquility about life at Raw Lon Court which had been just everything to Dad. Ah, what would she and Dad have done without Anthony during these last months? Whatever the future held, she must be loyal lo that friend in need.

Lesterlees had not noticed his fiancee’s silence; after reading his sister’s message he had gone on to talking of something else. This Michael Grefton was a name only to him.

When Anthony settled anything, it was carried out promptly. Joan was surprised to find how easily matters were arranged, and she was glad of the hustle. It hurt—ah! how could she ever explain how it hurt to leave the old home. As she said “ goodbye ” to each familiar room in turn, it seemed as if she were leaving part of her life behind. Nannie, who was remaining to “ sec the sale through,” hugged her nursling as if she never meant to let her go-

“ I’ll be coming to see you, dearie- | pet,” sobbed the old woman, “ but j my mind's at ease about you. You i are marrying a real gentleman, and one that would give you gold to cat if he thought it would please you.” And Joan did not even want to laugh! There were hours spent in the studio which she would never forget. It was almost a relief when the great, car turned the corner and she | had said good-bye to her childhood’s | home. “Only two short weeks," she whispered, “ and life is upside down.” Lesterlees, who was driving, heard the words. (To he continued.)