The Doctor [66]
pauses of their envies and hatreds, such among them as were female, and of their lusts and despairs such as were male, in her warm flesh tints and full flesh curves and the draperies withal wherewith, with consummate art, she revealed or enhanced the same. For Iola was possessed of a fatal, maddening beauty, and an alluring fascination of manner that wrought destruction among men and fury among women.
To Dick, who, with his brilliant talents, shed lustre upon her courts, Iola gave chief place in her train, yet in such manner as that her preference for him neither lessened the number nor checked the ardour of her devotees. He was her friend of childhood days, her good friend, but nothing more. Upon this basis of a boy and girl friendship was established an intimacy which seemed to render unnecessary those conventions, unreal and vexing in appearance, but which, as the wise old world has proved, man and woman with the dread potencies of passion slumbering within them cannot afford to despise. By their mutual tastes, as by their habits of life, Iola and Dick were brought into daily association. Under Dick's guidance she read and studied the masters of the English drama. For she had her eye now upon the operatic stage and was at present devoting herself to the great musical dramas of Wagner. Together they took full advantage of the theatre privileges which Dick's connection with the press gave him. And at those festive routs by which society amuses and vexes itself they were constantly thrown together. Dick was acutely and growingly sensitive to the influence Iola had upon him. Her beauty disturbed him. The subtle potency that exhaled from her physical charms affected him like draughts of wine. Away from her presence he marvelled at himself and scorned his weakness; but once within sound of her voice, within touch of her hand, her power reasserted itself. The mystery of the body, its subtle appeal, its terrible potency, allured and enslaved him. Against this infatuation of Dick's, Margaret felt herself helpless. She well knew that Dick's love for her had not changed, except to grow into a bitter, despairing intensity that made his presence painful to her at times. This very love of his closed her lips. She could only wait her time, meanwhile keeping such touch with him as she could, bringing to him the wholesome fragrance of a pure heart and the strength and serenity of a life devoted to well doing.
Something would occur to recall him to his better self. And something did occur. Almost a year had elapsed since Barney had gone out of Iola's life in so tragic a way. Through all the months of the year he had waited, longing and hoping for the word that might recall him to her, until suspense became unbearable even for his strong soul. Hence it was that Iola received from him a letter breathing of love so deep, so tender, and withal so humble, that even across the space that these months had put between Barney and herself, Iola was profoundly stirred and sorely put to it to decide upon her answer. She took the letter to Margaret and read her such parts as she thought necessary. "A year has gone. It seems like ten. I have waited for your word, but none has come. Looking back upon that dreadful night I sometimes think I may have been severe. If so, my punishment has been heavy enough to atone. Tell me, shall I come to you? I can offer you a home even better than I had hoped a year ago. I am offered a lectureship here with an ample salary, or an assistantship on equal terms, by Trent. I have discovered that I am in the grip of a love beyond my power to control. In spite of all that my work is to me, I find myself looking, not into the book before me, but into your eyes--I may be able to live without you, but I cannot live my best. I don't see how I can live at all. It seems as if I could not wait even a few days for your word to come. Darling, my heart's love, tell me to come."
"How can I answer a letter like that?" said Iola to Margaret.
"How?" exclaimed Margaret. "Tell him to come. Wire
To Dick, who, with his brilliant talents, shed lustre upon her courts, Iola gave chief place in her train, yet in such manner as that her preference for him neither lessened the number nor checked the ardour of her devotees. He was her friend of childhood days, her good friend, but nothing more. Upon this basis of a boy and girl friendship was established an intimacy which seemed to render unnecessary those conventions, unreal and vexing in appearance, but which, as the wise old world has proved, man and woman with the dread potencies of passion slumbering within them cannot afford to despise. By their mutual tastes, as by their habits of life, Iola and Dick were brought into daily association. Under Dick's guidance she read and studied the masters of the English drama. For she had her eye now upon the operatic stage and was at present devoting herself to the great musical dramas of Wagner. Together they took full advantage of the theatre privileges which Dick's connection with the press gave him. And at those festive routs by which society amuses and vexes itself they were constantly thrown together. Dick was acutely and growingly sensitive to the influence Iola had upon him. Her beauty disturbed him. The subtle potency that exhaled from her physical charms affected him like draughts of wine. Away from her presence he marvelled at himself and scorned his weakness; but once within sound of her voice, within touch of her hand, her power reasserted itself. The mystery of the body, its subtle appeal, its terrible potency, allured and enslaved him. Against this infatuation of Dick's, Margaret felt herself helpless. She well knew that Dick's love for her had not changed, except to grow into a bitter, despairing intensity that made his presence painful to her at times. This very love of his closed her lips. She could only wait her time, meanwhile keeping such touch with him as she could, bringing to him the wholesome fragrance of a pure heart and the strength and serenity of a life devoted to well doing.
Something would occur to recall him to his better self. And something did occur. Almost a year had elapsed since Barney had gone out of Iola's life in so tragic a way. Through all the months of the year he had waited, longing and hoping for the word that might recall him to her, until suspense became unbearable even for his strong soul. Hence it was that Iola received from him a letter breathing of love so deep, so tender, and withal so humble, that even across the space that these months had put between Barney and herself, Iola was profoundly stirred and sorely put to it to decide upon her answer. She took the letter to Margaret and read her such parts as she thought necessary. "A year has gone. It seems like ten. I have waited for your word, but none has come. Looking back upon that dreadful night I sometimes think I may have been severe. If so, my punishment has been heavy enough to atone. Tell me, shall I come to you? I can offer you a home even better than I had hoped a year ago. I am offered a lectureship here with an ample salary, or an assistantship on equal terms, by Trent. I have discovered that I am in the grip of a love beyond my power to control. In spite of all that my work is to me, I find myself looking, not into the book before me, but into your eyes--I may be able to live without you, but I cannot live my best. I don't see how I can live at all. It seems as if I could not wait even a few days for your word to come. Darling, my heart's love, tell me to come."
"How can I answer a letter like that?" said Iola to Margaret.
"How?" exclaimed Margaret. "Tell him to come. Wire