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Updated: June 10, 2025
It was the fireplace that had determined the choice of the room. As Dr. Bulling asked his question Iola's lace lit up with a sudden splendour. "Yes, of course," she cried. "And why 'of course'?" inquired the doctor. "Why? Because a great friend of mine is to receive his degree and his gold medal." "And who is that, pray?" "Mr. Boyle." "Oh, you know him? Clever chap, they say. Can't say I know him.
Foxmore, you have no idea what a relief it is to have one's affairs taken charge of in this way. It quite saves one the trouble of making up one's mind. Indeed, one hardly needs a mind at all." Iola's face and smile were those of innocent childhood. Dr. Foxmore shot a suspicious glance at her and hastened to change the subject. "Well, you will go next Saturday, will you not?"
Iola, after a continuous strain upon her nervous system for months, began to suffer from general debility and nervous depression. Dr. Gresham saw the increasing pallor on Iola's cheek and the loss of buoyancy in her step. One morning, as she turned from the bed of a young soldier for whom she had just written a letter to his mother, there was such a look of pity and sorrow on her face that Dr.
"Mother, are these people Christians who made these laws which are robbing us of our inheritance and reducing us to slavery? If this is Christianity I hate and despise it. Would the most cruel heathen do worse?" "My dear child, I have not learned my Christianity from them. I have learned it at the foot of the cross, and from this book," she said, placing a New Testament in Iola's hands.
"Drooping souls no longer grieve, Heaven is propitious; If on Christ you do believe, You will find Him precious." "That," said he, looking earnestly into Iola's face, "was my mother's hymn. I have not heard it for years. Where did you learn it?" Iola gazed inquiringly upon the face of her patient, and saw, by his clear gaze and the expression of his face, that his reason had returned.
Wrecked Barney's life, Iola's, too, for all I know, and mine!" "You must not say wrecked," replied Margaret. "What other word is there? Wrecked and ruined. I know what you would say; but whatever the next life has for us, there is nothing left in this that can atone!" "That, too, you must not say, Dick," said Margaret. "God has something yet for us. He always keeps for us better than He has given.
In a darkened room lay the stricken mother, almost distracted by her late bereavement. "Oh, Iola," she exclaimed, as her daughter entered, "is this you? I am so sorry you came." Then, burying her head in Iola's bosom, she wept convulsively. "Much as I love you," she continued, between her sobs, "and much as I longed to see you, I am sorry you came."
At one side of the room stood a piano with music lying carelessly about. In another corner was Iola's guitar, which she seldom used now except when intimate friends gathered for one of the little suppers she loved to give. Then she took it up to sing the mammy songs of her childhood. On the side opposite to that on which the piano stood was a little fireplace.
But you will be glad to know that Miss Lane has made us all have a very happy little holiday." "Of that I am sure," cried Barney gravely. "And we gave her, or we tried to give her, a good time." "It is for that some of us have lived." Barney's deep voice, thrilling with sad and tender feeling, brought the quick tears to Iola's eyes. To her, the words had in them the sound of farewell. Even Mrs.
They at once suspicioned that the boys had the map and that they had started out to find the Cave of Gold. Oh, Ruth," and a look of horror came into Iola's face, "do you suppose they will start on the trail of Thure and Bud and try to get the map from them? Why, they might murder them!"
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