As a consequence Joan felt that her duty lay beside a woman whom Fate had treated so ill; that duty demanded that an effort must be made to bring a little brightness into so solitary and loveless a life.
So her choice was made. And as she grew accustomed to the stern companionship she often found herself wondering how a woman of such curiously harsh disposition could ever have been the victim of such a passion as was attributed to her. It was almost inconceivable, especially when she tried to picture the father, whom she had never known, but who was reputed to be such an intensely human man, so full of the many frailties of a Wall Street gambler.
Joan now saw the crystal lying in her aunt's lap. She saw, too, the fevered eyes lifted to her face. And with an uncomfortable feeling of disaster pending she moved across to the window-seat and flung herself upon the pile of down cushions.
"I do hope you're not--not seeing things again, auntie," she said in an anxious voice, her eyes fixed resentfully upon the detested crystal. "You know Dr. Valmer forbade you--practicing for at least six months," she added warningly.
"Dr. Valmer's a fool," came the sharp retort.
The girl flushed. It was not the words: it was the manner that could so hurt. But this time she felt it her duty to continue. Her aunt's health was seriously affected, and the doctor had warned her personally about it.
"I dare say he is, auntie," she protested. "But you pay him good dollars for being one. What is the use of it if you don't take his advice?"
Just for a second a peculiar look flashed into Mercy's eyes. Then she allowed them to drop to the crystal in her lap.
"Go and change your habit. It will keep you busy on your own affairs. They need all your attention--just now."
The rudeness left Joan untouched. She was too seriously concerned.
Mercy Lascelles had only recently recovered from a bad nervous breakdown, the result, so Dr. Valmer, the specialist, assured her, of the enormous strain of her studies. He had warned Joan of the danger to her aunt's mental balance, and begged her to use every effort to keep her from her practice. But Joan found her task well-nigh impossible, and the weight of her responsibility was heavy upon her.
She turned away to the window and gazed out. She was feeling rather hopeless. There were other things worrying her too, small enough things, no doubt, but sufficiently personal to trouble her youthful heart and shadow all her thought with regret. She was rapidly learning that however bright the outlook of her life might be there were always clouds hovering ready to obscure the smiling of her sun.