LOVE'S DARK JOURNEY

Waikato Times, Volume 126, Issue 21041, 17 February 1940, Page 12 (Supplement)

LOVE'S DARK JOURNEY

by MARGARET COOKE

CHAPTER XXIII (Continued) But there was nothing he could do. The hours dragged by. Twice a nurse came to assure them that the operation was progressing, but no final news had come through. Then suddenly there were heavy footsteps outside, and James Martin sprang to his feet. The grey-haired surgeon opened the door. “Well?” This time Martin’s question was like a shot from a gun, and the room was tense with suspense. “The operation is successful,” said the surgeon, “but the danger is not yet past. All the same I think I should return to the Manor, Mr Martin. Please tell Sir John that there is more than an even chance of pulling his nephew round—” Martin nodded slowly. Rene Willett looked up, and her voice came slowly, unexpectedly. “Will there be any permanent injury, doctor?” It was impossible to be sure what was causing her anxiety, but she was anxious. Martin waited, too, as anxiously as she did for the other’s reply. The surgeon hesitated. “I had hoped that you would not ask that question at this stage,” he said. “I cannot be sure. There will be scars, but not too disfiguring, about the face. And there is a chance that it will be a year or more before he is able to walk. Even then he ; might be a semi-invalid. But this i is not yet certain. No word of it j must reach Sir John or Lady RenI way.”

| Jim nodded, his heart heavy. | “They will not be told,” he assured the medico. ! “I assure you I will say no word,” ! promised Rene Willett, but it was impossible to know what thoughts were passing through her mind. “You think it will be a long job, doctor?” “In any case six or eight months,” said the surgeon. “He will be convalescent, of course, but I cannot see any chance of him walking about, for instance, until the middle of the summer. As I said, I would rather not have talked of this at this stage, but it is impossible for me to refuse to answer you, Miss Willett, seeing that your relationship is so close.” “I appreciate your confidence,” i Rene told him, “And now—l am terribly tired. Sir John suggested that I should return to the Manor, but I would be happier I think in an hotel nearby.” “I will arrange for a car to take you to the best hotel in the city,” promised the medico. “You will return, Mr Martin?” “Immediately,” promised Jim Martin. He did not shake hands with the other woman as he left the room. Something in her manner told him the truth—that she was worried j only by the effect of this illness on I herself, not because of Mark. | And the situation was black inI deed. j Six months an invalid, at least, l with a chance of permanent injury, j That a man in the prime of life j should be a victim of such a disasJ ter seemed too cruel, but it was like

life—a bitter battle until the end. His dislike of Rene Willett was very strong now, but his own soul was in torment. For he guessed what Judy would ! say, what she would do. j While Mark was ill she would want to be thinking of him, and of no one else. And if by chance there was a change in Rene Willett’s affections, then there was no telling what would happen. Well, it would have to be faced. For the moment he had to do all he could to comfort the aged baronet and his wife. It did not occur to James Martin that he was always in the same position—a helper and a stalwart friend to others, whether he knew them well or not. His influence was always soothing* and even strangers found it natuial to rely on him. He reached the Manor just after mid-night. There were lights in most of the rooms, and as the car stopped outside the front door, it was opened by an anxious servant. Sir John Renway was hurrying down the stairs as Jim entered the spacious hall. “Well, by boy? They telephoned, and the operation was successful, thank God! But ” James Martin’s quiet, reassuring smile was again in evidence, j “I had a long talk with the sur- | geon,” he assured Sir John, “and • j the news is good. There is more j than an even chance of pulling Mark I ! round, and although it will mean a I I longish spell in hospital—a month or more—he should be all right. That I is the full extent of the message, Sir John. The hospital have promised to telephone should there be the slightest change in his condition, and I do not think you should have any cause at all to worry.” “Thank God!” exclaimed Sir John. “I must tell Mary. I ”he broke off suddenly, as footsteps echoed down the stairs, and James Martin glanced up. He saw the lean figure of Dr. Garth—whom he had met several times—and an inquiry was immediately on his lips. “How is Lady Mary?” “Suffering from shock, of course,” i said the medico. “But I have given I her a sleeping draught, and now, if j you have good news ” j “Reasonably good,” said Sir John. “I’m very glad,” said the doctor sincerely. “Then I think a small draught would make sure you get a good night’s sleep, Sir John.” “Nonsense! I don’t want drugging!” "It’s merely a sedative,” smiled the doctor. “But perhaps a whisky-and-soda would do you more good. I could manage one, and you too, i Martin?” There was a twinkle in Garth's eyes, and Martin nodded. Sir John grunted that that sounded much more like sense, and hurried upstairs to his wife. When he returned the others were standing in the library, with three whiskies-and-sodas ready. “To Mark’s quick recovery,” pledged Garth, and the baronet drank the toast gladly, CTo be continued)