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 a blessed privilege to stand on the threshold of a new era and labor for those who had passed from the old oligarchy of slavery into the new commonwealth of freedom.

On the next evening, Dr. Latimer rang the bell and was answered by Harry, who ushered him into the parlor, and then came back to the sitting-room, saying, “Iola, Dr. Latimer has called to see you.”

“Has he?” answered Iola, a glad light coming into her eyes.  “Come, Lucille, let us go into the parlor.”

“Oh, no,” interposed Harry, shrugging his shoulders and catching Lucille’s hand.  “He didn’t ask for you.  When we went to the concert we were told three’s a crowd.  And I say one good turn deserves another.”

“Oh, Harry, you are so full of nonsense.  Let Lucille go!” said Iola.

“Indeed I will not.  I want to have a good time as well as you,” said Harry.

“Oh, you’re the most nonsensical man I know,” interposed Miss Delany.  Yet she stayed with Harry.

“You’re looking very bright and happy,” said Dr. Latimer to Iola, as she entered.

“My ride in the park was so refreshing!  I enjoyed it so much!  The day was so lovely, the air delicious, the birds sang so sweetly, and the sunset was so magnificent.”

“I am glad of it.  Why, Iola, your home is so happy your heart should be as light as a school-girl’s.”

“Doctor,” she replied, “I must be prematurely old.  I have scarcely known what it is to be light-hearted since my father’s death.”

“I know it, darling,” he answered, seating himself beside her, and drawing her to him.  “You have been tried in the fire, but are you not better for the crucial test?”

“Doctor,” she replied, “as we rode along yesterday, mingling with the sunshine of the present came the shadows of the past.  I was thinking of the bright, joyous days of my girlhood, when I defended slavery, and of how the cup that I would have pressed to the lips of others was forced to my own.  Yet, in looking over the mournful past, I would not change the Iola of then for the Iola of now.”