Part 10

“Oh, indeed. Well--ah--come in.” Iola was fighting fiercely her loathing of him. It was against this man and his friends that Barney had defended her name. She led the way to her studio, ignoring the silly chatter of the man following her upstairs, and by the time he had fairly got himself seated she was coolly master of herself.

“Just ran in to give you the great news.”

“To wit?”

“Why, don't you know? The Philharmonic thing is settled. You've got it.”

Iola looked blank.

“Why, haven't you heard that the Duff Charringtons have surrendered?” Iola recognized Dr. Bulling's words.

“Surrendered? Just what, exactly?”

“Oh, d-dash it all! You know the big fight that has been going on, the Duff Charringtons backing that little Redd girl.”

“Oh! So the Duff Charringtons have been backing the little Redd girl? Miss Evelyn Redd, I suppose? It sounds a little like a horse race or a pugilistic encounter.”

“A horse race!” he exclaimed. “Ha, ha, ha! A horse race isn't in it with this! But Bulling pulled the wires and you've got it.”

“But this is extremely interesting. I was not aware that the soloists were chosen for any other reason than that of merit.”

In spite of herself Iola had adopted a cool and somewhat lofty manner.

“Oh, well, certainly on merit, of course. But you know how these things go.” Dr. Foxmore was beginning to feel uncomfortable. The lofty air of this struggling, as yet unrecognized, country girl was both baffling and exasperating. “Oh, come, Miss Lane,” he continued, making a desperate effort to recover his patronizing tone, “you know just what we all think of your ability.”

“What do you think of it?” Iola's tone was calmly curious.

“Why, I think--well--I know you can do the work infinitely better than Evelyn Redd.”

“Have you heard Miss Redd in oratorio? I know you have never heard me.”

“No, can't say I have; but I know your voice and your style and I'm confident it will suit the part.”

“Thank you so much,” said Iola sweetly; “I am so sorry that Dr. Bulling should have given so much time, and he is such a busy man.”

“Oh, that's nothing,” waved Dr. Foxmore, recovering his self-esteem, “we enjoyed it.”

“How nice of you! And you were pulling wires, too, Dr. Foxmore?”

“Ah, well, we did a little work in a quiet way,” replied the doctor, falling into his best professional tone.

“And this yachting party, I suppose Dr. Bulling and you worked that, too? Really, Dr. Foxmore, you have no idea what a relief it is to have one's affairs taken charge of in this way. It quite saves one the trouble of making up one's mind. Indeed, one hardly needs a mind at all.” Iola's face and smile were those of innocent childhood. Dr. Foxmore shot a suspicious glance at her and hastened to change the subject.

“Well, you will go next Saturday, will you not?”

“I am really a little uncertain at present,” replied Iola.

“Oh, you must, you know! Mrs. Duff Charrington will be awfully cut up, not to speak of Bulling. He had no end of trouble to bring it off.”

“You mean, to persuade Mrs. Duff Charrington to invite me?”

“Oh, well,” said the doctor, plunging wildly, “I wouldn't put it that way. But the whole question of the Philharmonic was involved, and this invitation was a flag of truce, as it were.”

“Your metaphors certainly have a warlike flavour, Dr. Foxmore; I cannot pretend to follow the workings of your mind. But seeing that this invitation has been secured at the expense of such effort on the part of Dr. Bulling and yourself, I rather think I shall decline it.” In spite of all she could do, Iola could not keep out of her voice a slightly haughty tone. Dr. Foxmore's sense of superiority was fast deserting him. “And as to the Philharmonic solos,” continued Iola, “if the directors see fit to make me an offer of the part I shall consider it.”

“Consider it!” gasped Dr. Foxmore. It was time this young girl with her absurd pretensions were given to understand the magnitude of the favour that Dr. Bulling and himself were seeking to confer upon her. He became brutal. “Well, all I say is that if you know when you are well off, you'll take this chance.”

Iola rose with easy grace and stood erect her full height. Dr. Foxmore had not thought her so tall. Her face was a shade paler than usual, her eyes a little wider open, but her voice was as smooth as ever, and with just a little ring as of steel in it she inquired, “Did you come here this morning to make this threat, Dr. Foxmore?”

“I came,” he said bluntly, “to let you know your good fortune and to warn you not to allow any of your friends to persuade you against your own best interests.”

“My friends?” Iola threw her head slightly backward and her tone became frankly haughty.

“Oh, I know your friends, and especially--I may as well be plain--that young medical student, Boyle, don't like Dr. Bulling, and might persuade you against this yacht trip.”

Iola was furiously aware that her face was aflame, but she stood without speaking for a few moments till she was sure her voice was steady.

“My FRIENDS would never presume to interfere with my choosing.”

“Well, they presume, or at least that young Boyle presumed, to interfere once too often for his own good. But he'll probably be more careful in future.”

“Mr. Boyle is a gentleman in whom I have the fullest confidence. He would do what he thought right.”

“He will probably correct his judgments before he interferes with Dr. Bulling again.” The doctor's tone was insolently sarcastic.

“Dr. Bulling?”

“Yes. He was grossly insulting and Dr. Bulling was forced to chastise him.”

“Chastise! Mr. Boyle!” cried Iola, her anger throwing her off her guard. “That is quite impossible, Dr. Foxmore! That could not happen!”

“But I am telling you it did! I was present and saw it. It was this way--”

Iola put up her hand imperiously. “Dr. Foxmore,” she said, recovering her self-command, “there is no need of words. I tell you it is quite impossible! It is quite impossible!”

Dr. Foxmore's face flushed a deep red. He flung aside the remaining shreds of decency in speech.

“Do you mean to call me a liar?” he shouted.

“Ah, Dr. Foxmore, would you also chastise me as well?”

The doctor stood in helpless rage looking at the calm, smiling face.

“I was a fool to come!” he blurted.

“I would not presume to contradict you, nor to stand in the way of returning wisdom.”

The doctor swore a great oath under his breath and without further words strode from the room.

Iola stood erect and silent till he had disappeared through the open door. “Oh!” she breathed, her hands fiercely clenched, “if I were a man what a joy it would be just now!” She shut the door and sat down to think. “I wonder what did happen? I must see Dick at once. He'll tell me. Oh, it is all horribly loathsome!” For the first time she saw herself from Dr. Bulling's point of view. If she sang in the Philharmonic it would be by virtue of his good offices and by the gracious permission of the Duff Charringtons. That she had the voice for the part and that it was immeasurably better than Evelyn Redd's counted not at all. How mean she felt! And yet she must go on with it. She would not allow anything to stand in the way of her success. This was the first firm stepping-stone in her climb to fame. Once this was taken, she would be independent of Bulling and his hateful associates. She would go on this yacht trip. She need not have anything to do with Dr. Bulling, nor would she, for Barney would undoubtedly be hurt and angry. It looked terribly like disloyalty to him to associate herself on terms of friendship with the man who had beaten him so cruelly. Oh, how she hated herself! But she could not give up her chance. She would explain to Barney how helpless she was and she would send Dick to him. He would listen to Dick.

Poor Iola! Without knowing it, she was standing at the cross roads making choice of a path that was to lead her far from the faith, the ideals, the friends she now held most dear. Through all her years she had been preparing herself for this hour of choice. With her, to desire greatly was to bend her energies to attain. She would deeply wound the man who loved her better than his own life; but the moment of choice found her helpless in the grip of her ambition. And so her choice was made.

XII

HE THAT LOVETH HIS LIFE

Mrs. Duff Charrington at close range was not nearly so formidable as when seen at a distance. The huge bulk of her, the pronouncedly masculine dress and manner, the loud voice, the red face with its dark mustache line on the upper lip, all of which at a distance were calculated to overawe if not to strike terror to the heart of the beholder, were very considerably softened by the shrewd, kindly twinkle of the keen grey eyes which a nearer view revealed. Her welcome of Iola was bluff and hearty, but she was much too busy ordering her forces and disposing of her impedimenta, for she was her own commodore, to pay

## particular attention in the meantime to her guests. The wharf at which

the Petrel was tied was crowded this Saturday afternoon with various

## parties of excursionists making for the steamers, ferries, yachts,

and other craft that lay along the water front. Already the Petrel had hoisted her mainsail and, under the gentle breeze, was straining upon her shore lines awaiting the word to cast off. As Iola stood idly gazing at the shifting scene, wondering how Dick had succeeded on his mission to his brother, she observed Dr. Bulling approaching with his usual smiling assurance. Just as he was about to speak, however, she noticed him start and gaze fixedly toward the farther side of the wharf. Iola's eye, following his gaze, fell upon the figure of a man pushing his way through the crowd. It was Barney. She saw him pause, evidently to make inquiry of a dockhand. With a muttered oath, Bulling sprang to the aft line.

“Let go that line, Murdoff!” he shouted to the man at the bow. “Look lively, there!”

As he spoke he cast off the stern line and seized the wheel, making it imperative that Murdoff should execute his command in the liveliest manner. At once the yacht swung out and began to put a space of blue water between herself and the dock. She was not a moment too soon, for Barney, having received his direction, was coming at a run, scattering the crowd to right and left. As he arrived at the dock edge he caught sight of Iola and Dr. Bulling. He took a step backwards and made as if to attempt the spring. Iola's cry, “Don't, Barney!” arrested Mrs. Duff Charrington's attention.

“What's up?” she shouted. “How's this? We're off! Bulling, what the deuce--who gave orders?”

Mrs. Duff Charrington for once in her life was, as she would have said herself, completely flabbergasted. At a single glance she took in the white face of Iola, and that of Dr. Bulling, no less white.

“What's up?” she cried again. “Have you seen a ghost, Miss Lane? You, too, Bulling?” She glanced back at the clock. “There's someone left behind! Who is that young man, Daisy? Why, it's our medallist, isn't it? Do you know him, Bulling? Shall we go back for him?”

“No, no! For Heaven's sake, no! He's a madman, quite!”

“Pardon me, Dr. Bulling,” said Iola, her voice ringing clear and firm in contrast with Bulling's agitated tone, “he is a friend of mine, a very dear friend, and, I assure you, very sane.” As she spoke she waved her hand to Barney, but there was no answering sign.

“Your friend, is he?” said Mrs. Duff Charrington. “Then doubtless very sane. Does he want you, Miss Lane? Shall we go back for him?”

“No, he doesn't want me,” said Iola.

“Mrs. Charrington,” said Dr. Bulling, “he has a grudge against me because of a fancied insult.”

“Ah,” said Mrs. Duff Charrington, “I understand. What do you say, Miss Lane? We can easily go back.”

“Oh, let us not talk about it, Mrs. Charrington,” said Iola hurriedly; “he is gone.”

“As you wish, my dear. Daisy, take Dr. Bulling down to the cabin. I declare he looks as if he needed bracing up. I shall take the wheel.”

“Mrs. Charrington,” said Iola in a low voice, as Bulling disappeared down the companionway, “that was Mr. Boyle, my friend, and I want you to think him a man of the highest honour. But he doesn't like Dr. Bulling. He doesn't trust him.”

“My dear, my dear,” said Mrs. Charrington brusquely, “don't trouble yourself about him. I haven't lived fifty years for nothing. Oh! these men, these men! They take themselves too seriously, the dear creatures. But they are just like ourselves, with a little more conceit and considerably less wit. And they are not really worth all the trouble we take for them. I must get to know your medallist, my dear. That was a strong face and an honest face. I have heard John rave about him. John is my young son, first year in medicine. His judgment, I confess, is not altogether reliable--worships brawn, and there are traditions afloat as to that young man's doings when they were initiating him. But I have no doubt that, however sane on other subjects, he is quite mad about you, and, hang me! if I can wonder. If I were a young man I'd get my arms round you as soon as possible.”

As she chattered along, Iola found her heart warm to Mrs. Duff Charrington, who, with all her sporty manners and masculine ways, was an honest soul, with a shrewd wit and a kindly heart.

“I'm glad now I came,” said Iola gratefully; “I was afraid you weren't--” She paused abruptly in confusion.

“Oh, I'm not so bad as I'm painted, I assure you.”

“Oh, dear Mrs. Charrington, it was not you I was afraid of, it was what Dr. Bulling--” Again Iola hesitated.

“Don't bother telling me,” said Mrs. Duff Charrington, observing her confusion. “No doubt Bulling gave you to understand that he worked me to invite you. Confess now.” There was a shrewd twinkle in her keen grey eye. “Bulling is a liar, a terrible liar, with large possibilities of self-appreciation. But he had nothing to do with this invitation, though he flatters himself he had. He's not without ability, but he can't teach his grandmother to suck eggs. I'll tell you why you are here. I pride myself upon having an eye for a winner, and I pick you as one, and that's why you are to sing in the Philharmonic. Evelyn Redd has a pretty voice. She is a niece of a very dear friend, and for a time I thought she might do. But she has no soul, no passion, and music, like a man, must have passion. Music without passion is a crime against art. So I just told Duff, he's chairman, you know, of the Board of Directors, that she was impossible and that we must have you. I have heard you sing, my dear, and I know the singer's face and the singer's throat and eye. You have them all. You have the voice and the temperament and the passion. You'll be great some day, much greater than I, and, with the hope of sharing your glory, I have decided to put my money on you.”

Iola murmured some words of thanks, not knowing just what to say, but Mrs. Duff Charrington waved them aside.

“Purely selfish,” she said, “purely selfish, my dear. Now don't let Bulling worry you. I pick him for a winner, too. He has force. He'll be a power in the country. Inclines to politics. He's a kind of brute, of course, but he'll succeed, for he has wealth and social prestige, neither to be sniffed at, my child. But, especially, he has driving power. But I'll have my eye on him this trip, so enjoy your outing.”

Mrs. Duff Charrington was as good as her word. She knew nothing of the finesse of diplomacy in the manipulation of her company. Her method was straightforward dragooning. Observing the persistent attempts of Dr. Bulling during the early part of the trip to secure Iola for a tete-a-tete, she called out across the deck in the ears of the whole company, “See here, Bulling, I won't have you trying to monopolise our star. We're out for a good time and we're going to have it. Miss Lane is not your property. She belongs to us all.” Thenceforth Dr. Bulling, with what grace he could summon, had to content himself with just so much of Iola's company as his hostess decided he should have.

It was Iola's first experience of yachting, and it brought her a series of sensations altogether new and delightful. As the yacht skimmed, like a great white-winged bird, over the blue waters of Ontario, the humming breeze, the swift rush through the parting waves, the sense of buoyant life with which the yacht seemed to be endowed made her blood jump. She abandoned herself to the joys of the hour and became the life and soul of the whole party. And were it not for Barney's haunting face, the two days' outing would have been for Iola among the happiest experiences of her life. But Barney's last look across the widening strip of water pursued her and filled her with foreboding. It was not rage; it was more terrible than rage. Iola shuddered as she recalled it. She read in it the despair of renunciation. She dreaded meeting him again, and as the end of her trip drew near her dread increased.

Nor did Mrs. Duff Charrington, who had become warmly interested in the girl during the short voyage, fail to observe her uneasiness and to guess the cause. Foremost among the crowd awaiting them at the dock, Iola detected Barney.

“There he is,” she cried under her breath.

“My dear,” said Mrs. Duff Charrington, who was at her side, “it is not possible that you are afraid, and of a man! I would give something to have that feeling. It is many years since a man could inspire me with any feeling but that of contempt or of kind pity. They are really silly creatures and most helpless. Let me manage him. Introduce him to me and leave him alone.”

Mrs. Duff Charrington's confidence in her superior powers was more than justified. Through the crowd and straight for Iola came Barney, his face haggard with two sleepless nights. By a clever manoeuvre Mrs. Duff Charrington swung her massive form fair in his path and, turning suddenly, faced him squarely. Iola seized the moment to present him. Barney made as if to brush her aside, but Mrs. Duff Charrington was not of the kind to be lightly brushed aside by anyone, much less by a young man of Barney's inexperience.

“Ah, young man,” she exclaimed, “I think I have seen you before.” The strong grip of her hand and the loud tone of her voice at once arrested his progress and commanded his attention. “I saw you get your medal the other day, and I have heard my young hopeful rave about you--John Charrington, you know, medical student, first year. He is something of a fool and a hero-worshipper. You, of course, won't have noticed him.”

Barney halted, gazed abstractedly at the strong face with the keen grey eyes compelling his attention, then, with an effort, he collected his wits.

“Charrington? Yes, of course, I know him. Very decent chap, too. Don't see much of him.”

“No, rather not. He doesn't haunt the same spots. The dissecting-room wouldn't recognize him, I fancy. He's straight-going, however, but he can't pass exams. Good thing, too, for unless he changes considerably, the Lord pity his patients.” She became aware of a sudden hardening in Barney's face and a quick flash in his eye. Without turning her head she knew that Dr. Bulling was approaching Iola from the other side. She put her hand on Barney's arm. “Mr. Boyle, please take Miss Lane to my carriage there? Bulling,” she said, turning sharply upon the doctor, “will you help Daisy to collect my stuff? I am sure things will be left on the yacht. There are always some things left. Servants are so stupid.” There was that in her voice that made Bulling stand sharply at attention and promptly obey. And ere Barney knew, he was leading Iola and Mrs. Duff Charrington to the waiting carriage.

“So sorry I didn't know you were a friend of Miss Lane's, or we would have had you on our trip, Mr. Boyle,” said Mrs. Duff Charrington as he closed the carriage door.

“I thank you. But I am very busy, and, besides, I would not fit in with some of your party.” There was war in Barney's tone.

“Good Heavens, young man!” cried Mrs. Duff Charrington, in no way disturbed, “you don't expect to make the world fit in with you or you with the world, do you? Life consists in adjusting one's self. But you will be glad to know that Miss Lane has made us all have a very happy little holiday.”

“Of that I am sure,” cried Barney gravely.

“And we gave her, or we tried to give her, a good time.”

“It is for that some of us have lived.” Barney's deep voice, thrilling with sad and tender feeling, brought the quick tears to Iola's eyes. To her, the words had in them the sound of farewell. Even Mrs. Duff Charrington was touched. She leaned over the carriage door toward him.

“Mr. Boyle, I am taking Miss Lane home to dinner. Come with us.”

Barney felt the kindly tone. “Thank you, Mrs. Charrington, it would give none of us pleasure, and I have much to do. I am leaving to-morrow for Baltimore.”

Iola could not check a quick gasp. Mrs. Duff Charrington glanced at her white face.

“Young man,” she said sternly, leaning out toward him and looking Barney in the eyes, “don't be a fool. The man that would, from pique, willingly hurt a friend is a mean and cruel coward.”

“Mrs. Charrington,” replied Barney in a steady voice, “I have just come from an operation by which a little girl, an only child, has lost her arm. It was the mother that desired it, not from cruelty, but from love. It is because it is best, that I go to-morrow. Good-bye.” Then turning to Iola he said, “I shall see you to-night.” He lifted his hat and turned away.

“Drive home, Smith,” said Mrs. Charrington sharply; “the others will find their way.”

“Take me home,” whispered Iola, with dry lips.

“Do you love him?” said Mrs. Duff Charrington, taking the girl's hand in hers.

“Ah, yes. I never knew how much.”

“Tut! tut! child, the world still moves. Baltimore is not so far and he is only a man.” Mrs. Duff Charrington's tone did not indicate a high opinion of the masculine section of humanity. “You'll just come with me for dinner and then I shall send you home. Thank God, we can still eat.”