DAWNING AFFECTIONS.
"Doctor," said Iola, as they walked home from the _conversazione_, "I
wish I could do something more for our people than I am doing. I taught
in the South till failing health compelled me to change my employment.
But, now that I am well and strong, I would like to do something of
lasting service for the race."
"Why not," asked Dr. Latimer, "write a good, strong book which would be
helpful to them? I think there is an amount of dormant talent among us,
and a large field from which to gather materials for such a book."
"I would do it, willingly, if I could; but one needs both leisure and
money to make a successful book. There is material among us for the
broadest comedies and the deepest tragedies, but, besides money and
leisure, it needs patience, perseverance, courage, and the hand of an
artist to weave it into the literature of the country."
"Miss Leroy, you have a large and rich experience; you possess a vivid
imagination and glowing fancy. Write, out of the fullness of your heart,
a book to inspire men and women with a deeper sense of justice and
humanity."
"Doctor," replied Iola, "I would do it if I could, not for the money it
might bring, but for the good it might do. But who believes any good can
come out of the black Nazareth?"
"Miss Leroy, out of the race must come its own thinkers and writers.
Authors belonging to the white race have written good racial books, for
which I am deeply grateful, but it seems to be almost impossible for a
white man to put himself completely in our place. No man can feel the
iron which enters another man's soul."
"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?"
"I must have within me," answered Iola, with unaffected truthfulness, "a
large amount of hero worship. The characters of the Old Testament I most
admire are Moses and Nehemiah. They were willing to put aside their own
advantages for their race and country. Dr. Latimer comes up to my ideal
of a high, heroic manhood."
"I think," answered Robert, smiling archly, "he would be delighted to
hear your opinion of him."
"I tell him," continued Iola, "that he belongs to the days of chivalry.
But he smiles and says, 'he only belongs to the days of hard-pan
service.'"
"Some one," said Robert, "was saying to-day that he stood in his own
light when he refused his grandmother's offer to receive him as her
son."
"I think," said Iola, "it was the grandest hour of his life when he made
that decision. I have admired him ever since I heard his story."
"But, Iola, think of the advantages he set aside. It was no sacrifice
for me to remain colored, with my lack of education and race sympathies,
but Dr. Latimer had doors open to him as a white man which are forever
closed to a colored man. To be born white in this country is to be born
to an inheritance of privileges, to hold in your hands the keys that
open before you the doors of every occupation, advantage, opportunity,
and achievement."
"I know that, uncle," answered Iola; "but even these advantages are too
dearly bought if they mean loss of honor, true manliness, and self
respect. He could not have retained these had he ignored his mother and
lived under a veil of concealment, constantly haunted by a dread of
detection. The gain would not have been worth the cost. It were better
that he should walk the ruggedest paths of life a true man than tread
the softest carpets a moral cripple."
"I am afraid," said Robert, laying his hand caressingly upon her head,
"that we are destined to lose the light of our home."
"Oh, uncle, how you talk! I never dreamed of what you are thinking,"
answered Iola, half reproachfully.
"And how," asked Robert, "do you know what I am thinking about?"
"My dear uncle, I'm not blind."
"Neither am I," replied Robert, significantly, as he left the room.
Iola's admiration for Dr. Latimer was not a one-sided affair. Day after
day she was filling a larger place in his heart. The touch of her hand
thrilled him with emotion. Her lightest words were an entrancing melody
to his ear. Her noblest sentiments found a response in his heart. In
their desire to help the race their hearts beat in loving unison. One
grand and noble purpose was giving tone and color to their lives and
strengthening the bonds of affection between them.