The Doctor Part 18

During these years of study and toil, while Barney could only give her s.n.a.t.c.hes of his time, she had come to feel with increasing strength that her life was built round about him. When others had been applauding her successes, she waited for Barney's word; and though beside the clever, brilliant men that moved in the circle into which her art had brought her he might appear awkward and dull, yet it was Barney who continued to be the standard by which she judged men. With all his need of polish, his poverty of small talk, his hopeless ignorance of the conventions, and his obvious disregard of them, the ma.s.sive strength of him, his fine sense of honour, his chivalrous bearing toward women, added a touch of reverence to the love she bore him. But more than all, it was to Barney her heart turned for its rest. She knew well that she held in all its depth and strength his heart's love. He would never fail her. She could not exhaust that deep well. But the question returned, where would Barney be while she was being conducted by acclaiming mult.i.tudes along her triumphal way? "Oh, he will wait--we will wait," she corrected, shrinking from the heartlessness of the former phrasing. How many years she could not say. But deep in her heart was the determination that nothing should stand in the way of the ambition she had so long cherished and for which she had so greatly endured.

She opened the note with lingering deliberation as one dallies with an approaching delight.

"MY DEAR IOLA: I have always told you the truth. I could not see you last evening, nor can I to-day, and perhaps not for a day or two, because my face is disfigured. These are the facts: At the dinner, night before last, Dr. Bulling lied about you. I made him swallow his lie and in the process got rather badly marked, though not at all hurt. The doctor and his friends will, I think, guard their tongues in future, at least in my hearing. Dr. Bulling is a man of vile mind and of unclean life. He should not be allowed to appear with decent people. I have written to forbid him ever approaching you in public. You will know how to treat him if he attempts it. This will be a most disgusting business to you. I hate to make you suffer, but it had to be done, and by no one but me. Would I could bear it all for you, my darling. The patronage of these people, I mean Dr. Bulling's set, cannot, surely, be necessary to your success. Your great voice needs not their patronage; if so, failure would be better. When I am fit for your presence I shall come to you.

Good-bye. It is hard not to see you. Ever yours,

"Barney."

Alas! for her dreams. How rudely they were dispelled! Alas! for her castle in Spain. Already it was tottering to ruin, and by Barney's hand.

She read the note hurriedly again.

"He wants me to break with Dr. Bulling." She recalled a sentence in the doctor's letter. "Let no one or nothing keep you from accepting this invitation." "He's afraid Barney will keep me back. Nonsense! How stupid of Barney! He is so terribly particular! He doesn't understand these things. There has been a horrid row of some kind and now he asks me to cut Dr. Bulling!" She glanced at Barney's letter. "Well, he doesn't ask me, but it's all the same--'you will know how to treat him.' He's too proud to ask me, but he expects me to. It would be sheer madness!

Wouldn't the Duff Charrington's and Evelyn Redd be delighted! It is preposterous! I must go! I shall go!"

Rarely did Iola allow herself the luxury of a downright burst of pa.s.sion. With her, it was hardly ever worth while to be seriously angry.

It was so much easier to avoid straight issues. But to-day there was no avoiding. She surprised herself with a storm of indignant rage so heart-shaking that after it had pa.s.sed she was thankful she had been alone.

"What's the matter with me?" she asked herself. She did not know that the whole volume of her ambition, which had absorbed so great a part of her life, had come, in all its might, against the ma.s.sive rock of Barney's will. He would never yield, she knew well. "What shall I do?"

she cried aloud, beginning to pace the room. "Margaret will tell me. No, she would be sure to side with Barney. She would think it was wicked to go on Sunday, anyway, and, besides, she has Barney's rigid notions about things. I wish I could see d.i.c.k. d.i.c.k will understand. He has seen more of this life and--oh, he's not so terribly hidebound. And I'll get d.i.c.k to see Barney." She would not acknowledge that she was grateful that Barney could not come to see her, but she could write him a note and she could send d.i.c.k to him, and in the meantime she would accept the invitation. "I will accept at once. I wish I had before I read Barney's note. I really had accepted in my mind, and, besides, the arrangements were all made. I'll write the letters now." She hastened to burn her bridges behind her so that retreat might be impossible. "There," she cried, as she sealed, addressed, and stamped the letters, "I wish they were in the box. I'm awfully afraid I'll change. But I can't change! I cannot let this chance go! I have worked too long and too hard! Barney should not ask it!" A wave of self-pity swept over her, bringing her temporary comfort. Surely Barney would not cause her pain, would not force her to give up her great opportunity. She sought to prolong this mood. She pictured herself a forlorn maiden in distress whom it was Barney's duty and privilege to rescue. "I'll just go and post these now," she said. Hastily she put on her hat and ran down with the letters, fearing lest the pa.s.sing of her self-pity might leave her to face again the thought of Barney's inevitable and immovable opposition.

"There, that's done," she said to herself, as the lid of the post box clicked upon her letters. "Oh, I wonder--I wish I hadn't!" What she had feared had come to pa.s.s. She had committed herself, and now her self-pity had evaporated and left her face to face with the inevitable results. With terrible clearness she saw Barney's dark, rugged face with the deep-seeing eyes. "He always makes you feel in the wrong," she said impatiently. "You can never think what to say. He always seems right, and," she added honestly, "he is right generally. Never mind, d.i.c.k will help me." She shook off her load and ran on. At her door she met Dr.

Foxmore.

"Ah, good-morning," smiled the doctor, showing a double row of white teeth under his waxed mustache. "And how does the fair Miss Lane find herself this fine morning?"

It took the whole force of Iola's self-mastery to keep the disgust which was swelling her heart from showing in her face. Here was one of Dr.

Bulling's friends, one of his toadies--and he had a number of them--who represented to her all that was most loathsome in her life. The effort to repress her disgust, however, only made her smile the sweeter.

Foxmore was greatly encouraged. It was one of his fixed ideas that his manner was irresistible with "the s.e.x." Bulling might hold over him, by reason of his wealth and social position, but give him a fair field without handicap and see who would win out!

"I was about to do myself the honour and the pleasure of calling upon you this morning."

"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 Sat.u.r.day, 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."