LOVE'S DARK JOURNEY

Waikato Times, Volume 126, Issue 21042, 19 February 1940, Page 3

LOVE'S DARK JOURNEY

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 is not yet certain. No word of it must reach Sir John or Lady Renway.” 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.' 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 only by the effect of this illness on herself, not because of Mark. And the situation was black indeed. Six months an invalid, at least, with a chance of permanent injury. That a man in the prime of life should be a victim of such a disaster seemed too cruel, but it was like iile —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. While Mark was ill she would want to be thinking of him, and oi no one else. And if by chance there was a change in Rene WTllett’s affections, then there was no telling what would happen.

by MARGARET COOKE

Well, it would have to be faced. For the moment he had to do all he ; could to comfort the aged baronet j and his wife. It did not occur to James Martin • that he was always in the same posi- j tion—a helper and a stalwart friend ! to others, whether he knew them well or not. His influence was al- | ways soothing* and even strangers j found it natural to rely on him. He reached the Manor just after ( mid-night. There were lights in j most of the rooms, and as the car j stopped outside the front door, it j 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. “I had a long talk with the surgeon,” he assured Sir John, “and the news is good. There is more than an even chance of pulling Mark i round, and although it will mean a j longish spell in hospital—a month or more—he should be all right. That ■ is the full extent of the message, Sir j John. The hospital have promised | to telephone should there be the ! slightest change ir. 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 i 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,” said the medico. “But I have given her a sleeping draught, and now, if you have good news ” “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, 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. CHAPTER XXIV. James Martin smiled to himself, for the sedative which Dr. Garth had wanted the baronet to take had been well mixed with Sir John’s night-cap. Within half-an-hour the baronet and his wife would be sound asleep, and worry would be away from them at least until the morning. “And now,” thought James Martin grimly, “I must lace Judy.” Judy Frensham was waiting in the sitting-room of Lindene. Anne Frensham had gone to bed, for she was still under Dr. Garth’s orders, and took a sleeping draught regularly every night to ensure a sound sleep. But Rose was waiting up with the younger woman.

The effect of the news of the accident on Judy had been strange, but in one way at least it had been good.

The listlessness that had overcome her had gone. She was alert and anxious, but she was better for the shock. It was strange, reflected the old nurse, but there it was. The sound of the car pulling up outside brought Judy to her feet. She had opened the front door before Jim Martin had closed the door of his car, and was hurrying along the path towards him. His eyes, in the darkness, hid the pain that he felt. She was hurrying not to see him but to hear news of Mark. “Jim—how—how is he?” “He’ll recover,” Jim Martin said quickly, and there was a confidence in his tone that flooded through Judy’s heart. “Thank God for that!” she exclaimed. They had reached the front door, and in the dim light of a shaded electric lamp, James Martin peered down at the girl he loved. “You’re very fond of him, Judy?” She nodded, hating the fact that she was hurting this man, and yet forced to acknowledge the truth. Jim Martin’s smile was soft. Perhaps, one day, he will realise the wonder of you,” he said. “Do not give up hope, my dear, and remember —I am always here to help you.” James Martin had a presentiment when he had been at the hospital waiting with Rene Willett, that the engagement between her and the injured man would not be of long standing. t or the next week nothing happened to confirm that judgment, although the news that came from the hospital was perhaps better than could reasonably have been expected. Mark Renway had passed the crisis. There was no fear now that he would die. But for six months at least he would lay on his bed, and after that it was possible he would not be able to walk without the aid of a stick. At the end of the week, Lady Mary was told the whole truth with her husband. Dr. Garth and James Martin —who had stayed in the village the whole week —broke it to them. In a way it was not so much of a shock, for the old folk had suspected there was something of that nature the matter. And to ease the wound, there was the confirmation of the fact that his life would be saved. Sir John drew a deep breath. “We can only thank God,” he said slowly. “We can see him, I suppose?” “Of course, any time,” said Dr. Garth. “I’ve arranged it with the surgeon, and every time I’m in Winchester I will slip along and see him. He is only just beginning to get really conscious, you know.” Sir John nodded. Since the operation, Mark Renway had been in a state of coma. He had not appeared to recognise his visitors, not even Rene Willett. Nor had his lips opened. But that mornI ing he had spoken a little, quite j rationally. j -He left no message?” asked Mary. “None was passed on to me,” ad-

mitted Dr. Garth. “But I am going into Winchester now, Sir John. Supposing you both come along.” The old couple accepted with alacrity, and James Martin—who had j made a habit of calling at the Manor j once a day since the accident —went with them as far as Lindene. Judy was waiting, anxious for news. Despite the fact that her love was now so apparent, and Jim’s chances of ever stirring the passions in her heart for himself had practically 1 disappeared, he was the best friend, j she knew, that she would ever pos- j sess. She relied on him for prac- j tically everything, and he was as j happy as he could be in her ser- j vice. ! Her relief, when «he learned that j Mark would recover, was trernend- j ous. Jim Martin smiled at her j excited face. j “You look lovelier than ever, Judy. I only hope that one day you will— j find him.” Juciy’s eyes were glistening. J “I believe you really mean that,” j she said. “Oh. Jim, how - wish I ; could feel differently! But no matter 1 what happened, I could love j another man than Mark. If he | not for me, then ” . “No one could replace him, I | I know,” said James Martin. “And ■ ! to shew you that I understand I will . | tell you a story, my dear—the story i of my own life.” | It was the first time he had ever talked of the great love that had lingered in his heart for so many years, and when he had finished Judy’s heart was filled to overflow- ! ing. And she knew that this man ! loved just as she loved Mark, but : he had loved the spirit of the woman i he had lost, while she still had hope. | Hope! She knew that it was madness to ! believe it, yet she was convinced that ! there was a chance. Mark loved I her! How could he have behaved as he had done had that not been true? i He had been blinded by Rene’s loveliness, there had been a whole run of misunderstanding—she knew that, now, for Sir John had told her —and . while Mark lived there was hope. No one told her that when he recovered consciousness his first thought would almost certainly be i for Rene. James Martin had said i nothing of his conviction that Rene i Willett would not want to marry a ! man who had been battered almost j out of recognition. They told themselves that it was i better she should follow the dictates i j of her heart, that she should think 1 whatever made her happiest. Afteri wards ; • They knew nothing of what the , ] future held. The situation was still j

too tangled for a clear understanding. ! It was two hours later when the car drew up outside the tea-gardens [ again. Judy was at the back of the ! house, but James Martin saw Sir , i John climbing from Dr. Garth’s car. i I The baronet hurried to the front 1 door, and as Jim opened it he said, with a gasp: “Where’s Judy?” “I’ll get her,” said Jim quickly. “But—why?” The baronet hesitated for a I moment, for he guessed what this i would mean to the other man. But | he spoke at last. j “Mark is conscious,” he said, “and j —and asking for Judy. He doesn’t j recognise Rene Willett, and it seems j that the last five months have been S cut from his mind! He thinks Judy j was with him in the car!” j (To De continued)