A few evenings before he started he called at the house, and made an engagement to drive Iola to the park.
At the time appointed he drove up to the door in his fine equipage. Iola stepped gracefully in and sat quietly by his side to enjoy the loveliness of the scenery and the gorgeous grandeur of the setting sun.
“I expect to go South,” said Dr. Latimer, as he drove slowly along.
“Ah, indeed,” said Iola, assuming an air of interest, while a shadow flitted over her face. “Where do you expect to pitch your tent?”
“In the city of C⸺, North Carolina,” he answered.
“Oh, I wish,” she exclaimed, “that you were going to Georgia, where you could take care of that high-spirited brother of mine.”
“I suppose if he were to hear you he would laugh, and say that he could take care of himself. But I know a better plan than that.”
“What is it?” asked Iola, innocently.
“That you will commit yourself, instead of your brother, to my care.”
“Oh, dear,” replied Iola, drawing a long breath. “What would mamma say?”
“That she would willingly resign you, I hope.”
“And what would grandma and Uncle Robert say?” again asked Iola.
“That they would cheerfully acquiesce. Now, what would I say if they all consent?”
“I don’t know,” modestly responded Iola.
“Well,” replied Dr. Latimer, “I would say:—
“Could deeds my love discover,
Could valor gain thy charms,
To prove myself thy lover
I’d face a world in arms.”
“And prove a good soldier,” added Iola, smiling, “when there is no battle to fight.”
“Iola, I am in earnest,” said Dr. Latimer, passionately. “In the work to which I am devoted every burden will be lighter, every path smoother, if brightened and blessed with your companionship.”
A sober expression swept over Iola’s face, and, dropping her eyes, she said: “I must have time to think.”
Quietly they rode along the river bank until Dr. Latimer broke the silence by saying:—
“Miss Iola, I think that you brood too much over the condition of our people.”
“Perhaps I do,” she replied, “but they never burn a man in the South that they do not kindle a fire around my soul.”
“I am afraid,” replied Dr. Latimer, “that you will grow morbid and nervous. Most of our people take life easily—why shouldn’t you?”
“Because,” she answered, “I can see breakers ahead which they do not.”
“Oh, give yourself no uneasiness. They will catch the fret and fever of the nineteenth century soon enough. I have heard several of our ministers say that it is chiefly men of disreputable characters who are made the subjects of violence and lynch-law.”
“Suppose it is so,” responded Iola, feelingly. “If these men believe in eternal punishment they ought to feel a greater concern for the wretched sinner who is hurried out of time with all his sins upon his head, than for the godly man who passes through violence to endless rest.”
“That is true; and I am not counseling you to be selfish; but, Miss Iola, had you not better look out for yourself?”
“Thank you, Doctor, I am feeling quite well.”
“I know it, but your devotion to study and work is too intense,” he replied.
“I am preparing to teach, and must spend my leisure time in study. Mr. Cloten is an excellent employer, and treats his employees as if they had hearts as well as hands. But to be an expert accountant is not the best use to which I can put my life.”
“As a teacher you will need strong health and calm nerves. You had better let me prescribe for you. You need,” he added, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, “change of air, change of scene, and change of name.”
“Well, Doctor,” said Iola, laughing, “that is the newest nostrum out. Had you not better apply for a patent?”
“Oh,” replied Dr. Latimer, with affected gravity, “you know you must have unlimited faith in your physician.”
“So you wish me to try the faith cure?” asked Iola, laughing.
“Yes, faith in me,” responded Dr. Latimer, seriously.
“Oh, here we are at home!” exclaimed Iola. “This has been a glorious evening, Doctor. I am indebted to you for a great pleasure. I am extremely grateful.”
“You are perfectly welcome,” replied Dr. Latimer. “The pleasure has been mutual, I assure you.”
“Will you not come in?” asked Iola.
Tying his horse, he accompanied Iola into the parlor. Seating himself near her, he poured into her ears words eloquent with love and tenderness.
“Iola,” he said, “I am not an adept in courtly phrases. I am a plain man, who believes in love and truth. In asking you to share my lot, I am not inviting you to a life of ease and luxury, for year after year I may have to struggle to keep the wolf from the door, but your presence would make my home one of the brightest spots on earth, and one of the fairest types of heaven. Am I presumptuous in hoping that your love will become the crowning joy of my life?”
His words were more than a tender strain wooing her to love and happiness, they were a clarion call to a life of high and holy worth, a call which found a response in her heart. Her hand lay limp in his. She did not withdraw it, but, raising her lustrous eyes to his, she softly answered: “Frank, I love you.”
After he had gone, Iola sat by the window, gazing at the splendid stars, her heart quietly throbbing with a delicious sense of joy and love. She had admired Dr. Gresham and, had there been no barrier in her way, she might have learned to love him; but Dr. Latimer had grown irresistibly upon her heart. There were depths in her nature that Dr. Gresham had never fathomed; aspirations in her soul with which he had never mingled. But as the waves leap up to the strand, so her soul went out to Dr. Latimer. Between their lives were no impeding barriers, no inclination impelling one way and duty compelling another. Kindred hopes and tastes had knit their hearts; grand and noble purposes were lighting up their lives; and they esteemed it
