Iola Leroy; Or, Shadows UpliftedHarper, Frances Ellen Watkins
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Iola Leroy; Or, Shadows Uplifted
Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins
African American women -- Fiction; African Americans -- Fiction
"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 employés 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."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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