“Well, Doctor, when I write a book I shall take you for the hero of my story.”

“Why, what have I done,” asked Dr. Latimer, in a surprised tone, “that you should impale me on your pen?”

“You have done nobly,” answered Iola, “in refusing your grandmother’s offer.”

“I only did my duty,” he modestly replied.

“But,” said Iola, “when others are trying to slip out from the race and pass into the white basis, I cannot help admiring one who acts as if he felt that the weaker the race is the closer he would cling to it.”

“My mother,” replied Dr. Latimer, “faithful and true, belongs to that race.  Where else should I be?  But I know a young lady who could have cast her lot with the favored race, yet chose to take her place with the freed people, as their teacher, friend, and adviser.  This young lady was alone in the world.  She had been fearfully wronged, and to her stricken heart came a brilliant offer of love, home, and social position.  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?  I am sure you have not made me your confidante,” she responded, demurely; then she quickly turned and tripped up the steps of her home, which she had just reached.

After this conversation Dr. Latimer became a frequent visitor at Iola’s home, and a firm friend of her brother.  Harry was at that age when, for the young and inexperienced, vice puts on her fairest guise and most seductive smiles.  Dr. Latimer’s wider knowledge and larger experience made his friendship for Harry very valuable, and the service he rendered him made him a favorite and ever-welcome guest in the family.

“Are you all alone,” asked Robert, one night, as he entered the cosy little parlor where Iola sat reading.  “Where are the rest of the folks?”

“Mamma and grandma have gone to bed,” answered Iola.  “Harry and Lucille are at the concert.  They are passionately fond of music, and find facilities here that they do not have in the South.  They wouldn’t go to hear a seraph where they must take a negro seat.  I was too tired to go.  Besides, ‘two’s company and three’s a crowd,’” she added, significantly.

“I reckon you struck the nail on the head that time,” said Robert, laughing.  “But you have not been alone all the time.  Just as I reached the corner I saw Dr. Latimer leaving the door.  I see he still continues his visits.  Who is his patient now?”

“Oh, Uncle Robert,” said Iola, smiling and flushing, “he is out with Harry and Lucille part of the time, and drops in now and then to see us all.”

“Well,” said Robert, “I suppose the case is now an affair of the heart.  But I cannot blame him for it,” he added, looking fondly on the beautiful face of his niece, which sorrow had touched only to chisel into more loveliness.  “How do you like him?”