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She is well cared for. Are you not free at last to share with me my Northern home, free to be mine as nothing else on earth is mine." Dr. Gresham looked eagerly on Iola's face, and tried to read its varying expression. "Iola, I learned to love you in the hospital. I have tried to forget you, but it has been all in vain.
She was too ill to have an interview with him, but he picked up the letter she had written and obtained Iola's address. Lorraine made a careful investigation of the case, to ascertain whether Marie's marriage was valid. To his delight he found there was a flaw in the marriage and an informality in the manumission.
No one noticed the deep flush on Iola's face as she entered the store, nor the subdued, quiet manner with which she applied herself to her tasks. She was living over again the past, with its tender, sad, and thrilling reminiscences. In the evening Dr. Gresham called on Iola. She met him with a pleasant welcome. Dr.
"I thought," she said, "that I heard Iola's voice. Has she come?" "Yes, darling; do you want to see her?" "Oh, yes," she said, as a bright smile broke over her dying features. Iola passed quickly into the room. Gracie reached out her thin, bloodless hand, clasped Iola's palm in hers, and said: "I am so glad you have come. Dear Iola, stand by mother. You and Harry are all she has.
But she bound her heart to the mast of duty, closed her ears to the syren song, and could not be lured from her purpose." A startled look stole over Iola's face, and, lifting her eyes to his, she faltered: "Do you know her?" "Yes, I know her and admire her; and she ought to be made the subject of a soul-inspiring story. Do you know of whom I speak?" "How should I, Doctor?
He did a lot for me that time, and since then He has piled it up till I feel as if I couldn't live long enough to pay back what I owe." Then he told "Mexico" in a low, reverent tone, with shining eyes and thrilling voice, the story of Iola's going. "That's why," he said, when he concluded his tale. "That was a great thing He did for her and for me.
It might hold a word of Barney. She was not mistaken. Hurriedly she read through Iola's glowing accounts of her season's triumph with Wagner. "It has been a great, a glorious experience," wrote Iola. "I cannot be far from the top now. The critics actually classed me with the great Malten. Oh, it was glorious. But I am tired out.
Never mind, Dick will help me." She shook off her load and ran on. At her door she met Dr. Foxmore. "Ah, good-morning," smiled the doctor, showing a double row of white teeth under his waxed mustache. "And how does the fair Miss Lane find herself this fine morning?" It took the whole force of Iola's self-mastery to keep the disgust which was swelling her heart from showing in her face.
"Drop the talk and turn your horses around and get," Iola commanded so imperatively, so threateningly that both men, in a sudden panic of fear like nearly all rascals they were cowards and those two pistols in those two girlish hands might go off at any instant whirled their horses around and galloped off, while a bullet from one of the barrels of Iola's pistol, whistling between their heads, added to their panic and speed.
"And how," asked Robert, "do you know what I am thinking about?" "My dear uncle, I'm not blind." "Neither am I," replied Robert, significantly, as he left the room. Iola's admiration for Dr. Latimer was not a one-sided affair. Day after day she was filling a larger place in his heart. The touch of her hand thrilled him with emotion. Her lightest words were an entrancing melody to his ear.
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