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Updated: June 10, 2025
"Why," and Iola's face whitened, "he must have been the man our brothers, Thure and Bud, brought home with them yesterday afternoon! He had a scar on his forehead like that. Didn't you notice it?" and she turned to Ruth. "Yes," Ruth answered, "and he was from the mines." "Wal, now, that's good news," declared the big man, glancing out of the corners of his eyes at his companion.
Foxmore was beginning to feel uncomfortable. The lofty air of this struggling, as yet unrecognized, country girl was both baffling and exasperating. "Oh, come, Miss Lane," he continued, making a desperate effort to recover his patronizing tone, "you know just what we all think of your ability." "What do you think of it?" Iola's tone was calmly curious.
I never would consent to her marrying any one without first revealing to him her connection with the negro race. This is a subject on which I am not willing to run any risks." "My dear Marie, when you shall have read Iola's letter you will see it is more than a figment of my imagination that has made me so loth to have our children know the paralyzing power of caste."
She withdrew her arm from Iola, and said: "I must see the board of managers about it." When the board met, Iola's case was put before them, but they decided not to receive her. And these women, professors of a religion which taught, "If ye have respect to persons ye commit sin," virtually shut the door in her face because of the outcast blood in her veins.
At that moment there came from Iola's room the sound of soft singing. "It's no wonder," said Margaret as she listened to the exquisite sound, "it's no wonder that she could catch poor Ben and his mother with a voice like that. Yes, and and the rest of them, too." In a few minutes there was a tap at her door and Iola came in, her hair hanging like a dusky curtain about her face.
Mammy Liza met her at the door, and, with streaming eyes and convulsive sobs, folded her to her heart, as Iola exclaimed, in tones of hopeless anguish: "Oh, papa's dead!" "Oh, my pore baby!" said mammy, "ain't you hearn tell 'bout it? Yore par's dead, an' your mar's bin drefful sick. She's better now." Mam Liza stepped lightly into Mrs. Leroy's room, and gently apprised her of Iola's arrival.
'E's halways a-comin' over somethin' cleverlike, is John. Lard save us! will yeh listen to that, now!" she continued in an awestruck undertone, as Iola's voice came in full rich melody from the next room. "An' Ben is fair raptured with 'er. Poor Benny! it's a sore calamity 'as overtaken 'im, a-breakin' of 'is leg an' a-mutilatin' of 'isself.
Slowly his hand released its pressure, a peaceful calm overspread his countenance, and without a sigh or murmur Thomas Anderson, Iola's faithful and devoted friend, passed away, leaving the world so much poorer for her than it was before. Just then Dr. Gresham, the hospital physician, came to the bedside, felt for the pulse which would never throb again, and sat down in silence by the cot.
"A beautiful past it was," replied Margaret gently. "We ought to be thankful that we have it." "Have you heard anything?" inquired Dick. "No. Iola's letter was the last. He had left London shortly after her arrival, so Jack Charrington had told her. She didn't know where he had gone. Charrington thought to the West somewhere, but there has been no word since."
To Barney these songs took place with the Psalms of David, if, indeed, they were not more sacred, and it was with a shock at first that he heard the Southern girl with her "foreign instrument" try over these songs that none but his mother had ever sung to him. Listening to Iola's soft, thrilling voice carrying these old Highland airs, he was conscious of a strange incongruity.
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