“Iola, dear, you have nothing to fear in that direction.”

“Doctor,” she said, and a faint flush rose to her cheek, “suppose we should marry, and little children in after years should nestle in our arms, and one of them show unmistakable signs of color, would you be satisfied?”

She looked steadfastly into his eyes, which fell beneath her truth-seeking gaze.  His face flushed as if the question had suddenly perplexed him.  Iola saw the irresolution on his face, and framed her answer accordingly.

“Ah, I see,” she said, “that you are puzzled.  You had not taken into account what might result from such a marriage.  I will relieve you from all embarrassment by simply saying I cannot be your wife.  When the war is over I intend to search the country for my mother.  Doctor, were you to give me a palace-like home, with velvet carpets to hush my tread, and magnificence to surround my way, I should miss her voice amid all other tones, her presence amid every scene.  Oh, you do not know how hungry my heart is for my mother!  Were I to marry you I would carry an aching heart into your home and dim its brightness.  I have resolved never to marry until I have found my mother.  The hope of finding her has colored all my life since I regained my freedom.  It has helped sustain me in the hour of fearful trial.  When I see her I want to have the proud consciousness that I bring her back a heart just as loving, faithful, and devoted as the last hour we parted.”

“And is this your final answer?”

“It is.  I have pledged my life to that resolve, and I believe time and patience will reward me.”

There was a deep shadow of sorrow and disappointment on the face of Dr. Gresham as he rose to leave.  For a moment he held her hand as it lay limp in his own.  If she wavered in her determination it was only for a moment.  No quivering of her lip or paling of her cheek betrayed any struggle of her heart.  Her resolve was made, and his words were powerless to swerve her from the purpose of her soul.

After Dr. Gresham had gone Iola went to her room and sat buried in thought.  It seemed as if the fate of Tantalus was hers, without his crimes.  Here she was lonely and heart-stricken, and unto her was presented the offer of love, home, happiness, and social position; the heart and hand of a man too noble and generous to refuse her companionship for life on account of the blood in her veins.  Why should she refuse these desirable boons?  But, mingling with these beautiful visions of manly love and protecting care she saw the anguish of her heart-stricken mother and the pale, sweet face of her dying sister, as with her latest breath she had said, “Iola, stand by mamma!”

“No, no,” she said to herself; “I was right to refuse Dr. Gresham.  How dare I dream of happiness when my poor mamma’s heart may be slowly breaking?  I should be ashamed to live and ashamed to die were I to choose a happy lot for myself and leave poor mamma to struggle alone.  I will never be satisfied till I get tidings of her.  And when I have found her I will do all I can to cheer and brighten the remnant of her life.”