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Updated: May 8, 2025
Did the ghost of that grand passion linger in some corner of his heart? She slipped her hand under his arm. "Jon's father is quite ill and old; I saw him." "You ?" "Yes, I went there with Jon; I saw them both." "Well, and what did they say to you?" "Nothing. They were very polite." "They would be."
Fleur slipped out of his arms. "Oh! Very well!" And suddenly she burst into tears of disappointment, shame, and overstrain. Followed five minutes of acute misery. Jon's remorse and tenderness knew no bounds; but he did not promise. Despite her will to cry, "Very well, then, if you don't love me enough-goodbye!" she dared not.
Did the ghost of that grand passion linger in some corner of his heart? She slipped her hand under his arm. "Jon's father is quite ill and old; I saw him." "You ?" "Yes, I went there with Jon; I saw them both." "Well, and what did they say to you?" "Nothing. They were very polite." "They would be."
She had received a letter from him only that morning which had made her smile and say: "Jon's in British Columbia, Val, because he wants to be in California. He thinks it's too nice there." "Oh!" said Val, "so he's beginning to see a joke again." "He's bought some land and sent for his mother." "What on earth will she do out there?" "All she cares about is Jon.
What was she going to say to him, who had in his heart such things to say to her? "I know Fleur came to-day. I'm not surprised." It was as though she had added: "She is her father's daughter!" And Jon's heart hardened. Irene went on quietly: "I have Father's letter. I picked it up that night and kept it. Would you like it back, dear?" Jon shook his head.
Fleur hid herself behind "The Lady's Mirror." Jon imitated her behind "The Landsman." The train started. Fleur let "The Lady's Mirror" fall and leaned forward. "Well?" she said. "It's seemed about fifteen days." She nodded, and Jon's face lighted up at once. "Look natural," murmured Fleur, and went off into a bubble of laughter. It hurt him. How could he look natural with Italy hanging over him?
She even kept Jon's letters covered with pink silk, on her heart, than which in days when corsets were so low, sentiment so despised, and chests so out of fashion, there could, perhaps, have been no greater proof of the fixity of her idea. After hearing of his father's death, she had written to Jon, and received his answer three days later on her return from a river picnic.
"What! Not Euripides?" "Euripides? Oh! no, I can't bear Greek plays; they're so long. I think beauty's always swift. I like to look at one picture, for instance, and then run off. I can't bear a lot of things together. Look!" She held up her blossom in the moonlight. "That's better than all the orchard, I think." And, suddenly, with her other hand she caught Jon's.
That was Jon's thought. She watched them closely; but the half-breed knew that she was watching, and the two said nothing more to each other. But Pierre said, in a careless way: "It is good he have that sleep. He was played out, quite." Jon replied, a secret triumph at her heart: "But what about his orders, the papers he was to carry to Archangel's Rise?
But the train seemed to run twice as fast now, and its sound was almost lost in that of Jon's sighing. "We're getting near," said Fleur; "the towing-path's awfully exposed. One more! Oh! Jon, don't forget me." Jon answered with his kiss.
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