The Doctor [58]
say good-bye to- night."
"Good-bye?" The sting of her pain made her irritable. He was so stubborn. "Surely, Barney, it is unreasonable to ask me to decide at once to-night."
He rose to his feet and lifted her gently.
"You have decided. You have already chosen your life's path, and it lies apart from mine. Let me go quietly away." His voice was toneless, passionless. His fight of two days and two nights had left him exhausted. His apparent apathy chilled her to the heart. It was a supreme moment in their lives, and yet she could not fan her soul's fires into flame. He was tearing up the roots of his love out of her life, but there was no acute sense of laceration. The inevitable had come to pass. A silence, dense and throbbing, fell upon them. Outside the storm was lashing the wet leaves against the window.
"If ever you should want me to come to you, Iola, one word will bring me. I shall be waiting, waiting. Remember that, always waiting." He tightened his arms about her and without passion, but gravely, tenderly he lifted her face. "Good-bye, my love," he said, and kissed her lips. "My heart's love!" Once more he kissed her. "My life! My love!"
She let the full weight of her body lie in his arms, lifeless but for the eyes that held his fast and for the lips that gave him back his kisses. Gently he placed her on the couch.
"God keep you, darling," he whispered, bending over her and touching her dusky hair with his lips.
He found his hat, walked with unsteady feet as a man walks under a heavy load, her eyes following his every step, and reached the door. There he paused, his hand fumbling at the knob, opened the door, halted yet an instant, but without turning he passed out of her sight.
An hour later Margaret came in and found her sitting where Barney had left her, dazed and tearless.
"He is gone," she said dully.
Margaret turned upon her. "Gone? Yes. I have just seen him."
"And I love him," continued Iola, looking up at her with heavy eyes.
"Love him! You don't know what love means! Love him! And for your paltry, selfish ambition you send from you a man whose shoes you are not worthy to tie!"
"Oh, Margaret!" cried Iola piteously.
"Don't talk to me!" she replied, her lip quivering. "I can't bear to look at you!" and she passed into her room.
It was intolerable to her that this girl should have regarded lightly the love she herself would have died to gain. But long after Iola had sobbed herself to sleep in her arms Margaret lay wakeful for her own pain and for that of the man she loved better than her life.
But next day, as Iola was planning to go to the station, Margaret would not have it.
"Why should you go? You have nothing to say but what would give him pain. Do you want him to despise you and me to hate you?"
But Iola was resolved to have her way. It was Mrs. Duff Charrington who fortunately intervened and carried Iola off with her to spend the afternoon and evening.
"Just a few musical friends, my dear. So brush up and come away. Bring your guitar with you."
Iola demurred.
"I don't feel like it."
"Tut! Nonsense! The lovelorn damsel reads well in erotic novels, but remember this, the men don't like stale beer."
This bit of worldly wisdom made Iola put on her smartest gown and lay aside the role she had unconsciously planned to adopt, so that even Mrs. Duff Charrington had no fault to find with the sparkling animation of her protegee.
But to the three who stood together waiting for the train to pull out that night there was only dreary, voiceless misery. There was no pretence at anything but misery. To the brothers the moment of parting would be the end of all that had been so delightful in their old life. The days of their long companionship were over, and to both the thought brought grief that made words impossible. Only Margaret's presence forced them to self-control. As to Margaret, Dick alone knew the full measure of her grief, and her quiet, serene courage filled him with amazed admiration. At length came
"Good-bye?" The sting of her pain made her irritable. He was so stubborn. "Surely, Barney, it is unreasonable to ask me to decide at once to-night."
He rose to his feet and lifted her gently.
"You have decided. You have already chosen your life's path, and it lies apart from mine. Let me go quietly away." His voice was toneless, passionless. His fight of two days and two nights had left him exhausted. His apparent apathy chilled her to the heart. It was a supreme moment in their lives, and yet she could not fan her soul's fires into flame. He was tearing up the roots of his love out of her life, but there was no acute sense of laceration. The inevitable had come to pass. A silence, dense and throbbing, fell upon them. Outside the storm was lashing the wet leaves against the window.
"If ever you should want me to come to you, Iola, one word will bring me. I shall be waiting, waiting. Remember that, always waiting." He tightened his arms about her and without passion, but gravely, tenderly he lifted her face. "Good-bye, my love," he said, and kissed her lips. "My heart's love!" Once more he kissed her. "My life! My love!"
She let the full weight of her body lie in his arms, lifeless but for the eyes that held his fast and for the lips that gave him back his kisses. Gently he placed her on the couch.
"God keep you, darling," he whispered, bending over her and touching her dusky hair with his lips.
He found his hat, walked with unsteady feet as a man walks under a heavy load, her eyes following his every step, and reached the door. There he paused, his hand fumbling at the knob, opened the door, halted yet an instant, but without turning he passed out of her sight.
An hour later Margaret came in and found her sitting where Barney had left her, dazed and tearless.
"He is gone," she said dully.
Margaret turned upon her. "Gone? Yes. I have just seen him."
"And I love him," continued Iola, looking up at her with heavy eyes.
"Love him! You don't know what love means! Love him! And for your paltry, selfish ambition you send from you a man whose shoes you are not worthy to tie!"
"Oh, Margaret!" cried Iola piteously.
"Don't talk to me!" she replied, her lip quivering. "I can't bear to look at you!" and she passed into her room.
It was intolerable to her that this girl should have regarded lightly the love she herself would have died to gain. But long after Iola had sobbed herself to sleep in her arms Margaret lay wakeful for her own pain and for that of the man she loved better than her life.
But next day, as Iola was planning to go to the station, Margaret would not have it.
"Why should you go? You have nothing to say but what would give him pain. Do you want him to despise you and me to hate you?"
But Iola was resolved to have her way. It was Mrs. Duff Charrington who fortunately intervened and carried Iola off with her to spend the afternoon and evening.
"Just a few musical friends, my dear. So brush up and come away. Bring your guitar with you."
Iola demurred.
"I don't feel like it."
"Tut! Nonsense! The lovelorn damsel reads well in erotic novels, but remember this, the men don't like stale beer."
This bit of worldly wisdom made Iola put on her smartest gown and lay aside the role she had unconsciously planned to adopt, so that even Mrs. Duff Charrington had no fault to find with the sparkling animation of her protegee.
But to the three who stood together waiting for the train to pull out that night there was only dreary, voiceless misery. There was no pretence at anything but misery. To the brothers the moment of parting would be the end of all that had been so delightful in their old life. The days of their long companionship were over, and to both the thought brought grief that made words impossible. Only Margaret's presence forced them to self-control. As to Margaret, Dick alone knew the full measure of her grief, and her quiet, serene courage filled him with amazed admiration. At length came