The Doctor Part 15

X

FOR A LADY'S HONOUR

"Are you going to Trinity convocation tomorrow?" asked Dr. Bulling of Iola.

They were sitting in what Iola called her studio. A poor little room it was, but suggesting in every detail the artistic taste of its occupant.

Its adornments, the luxurious arrangement of cus.h.i.+ons in the cosey corner, the prints upon the walls, and the books on the little table, spoke of a pathetic attempt to reproduce the surroundings of luxurious art without the large outlay that art demands. At one side of the room stood a piano with music lying carelessly about. In another corner was Iola's guitar, which she seldom used now except when intimate friends gathered for one of the little suppers she loved to give. Then she took it up to sing the mammy songs of her childhood. On the side opposite to that on which the piano stood was a little fireplace. It was the fireplace that had determined the choice of the room.

As Dr. Bulling asked his question Iola's lace lit up with a sudden splendour.

"Yes, of course," she cried.

"And why 'of course'?" inquired the doctor.

"Why? Because a great friend of mine is to receive his degree and his gold medal."

"And who is that, pray?"

"Mr. Boyle."

"Oh, you know him? Clever chap, they say. Can't say I know him. Have seen him a few times in the hospital with Trent. Struck me as rather crude. From the country, some place, isn't he?"

"Yes," replied Iola, with ever so slight a hesitation, "he is from the country, where I met him five--yes, it is actually five--years ago. So you see he is quite an old friend. And as for being crude, I think you can hardly call him that. Of course, he is not one of society's darlings, a patron of art, and a rising member of his profession as yet"--this with a little bow to her visitor--"but some day he will be great. And, besides, he is very nice."

"Of that I have no doubt," said the doctor, "seeing he is a friend of yours. But how are you going? Some friends of mine are to be there and will be glad to call for you." The doctor could hardly prevent a tone of condescension, almost of patronage, in his voice.

"You are very kind," said Iola, with just enough reserve in her manner to make the doctor conscious of his tone, "but I am going with friends."

"Friends?" inquired the doctor. "And who, may I ask?" There was an almost rude familiarity in his tone, but Iola only smiled at him the more sweetly.

"Oh, very dear friends, and very old friends, and friends of Mr. Boyle.

In fact, his brother, a theological student, and a Miss Robertson. I think you have met her. She is a nurse in the General Hospital."

"Nurse Robertson?" said Bulling. "Oh, yes, I know her. Pretty much of a saint, isn't she?"

"A saint?" cried Iola, for the first time throwing energy into her voice. "Yes, a saint. But the best and sweetest and kindest and jolliest girl I know."

"I should hardly have called her jolly," said the doctor, with an air of dismissing her.

"Oh, she is!" cried Iola, enthusiastically, her large eyes glowing eager enthusiasm. "You ought to have seen her at home. Why, at sixteen years she took charge of her father's manse and the children in the most wonderful way. Looked after me, too."

"Poor girl!" murmured the doctor. "She had a handful, sure enough."

"Yes, you may say so. Then her father went on a trip to the old country, and, to the surprise of everybody, brought back a new wife."

"And put the girl's nose out of joint," said the doctor.

"Well, hardly that. But there was no longer need for her at home, and, on the whole, she felt better to be independent, and so here she has been for the last two years. She shares my room when she is at home, which is not often, and still takes care of me."

"Most fortunate young lady she is," murmured the doctor.

"So I am going with them," continued Iola.

"Then I suppose n.o.body will see you." The doctor's tone was quite gloomy.

"Why, I love to see all my friends."

"It will be the usual thing," said the doctor, "the same circle crowding you, the same impossibility of getting a word with you."

"That depends on how much you--" cried Iola, throwing a swift smile at him.

"How much I want to?" interrupted the doctor eagerly. "You know quite well I--"

"How much time there is. You see, one can't be rude. One must speak to all one's friends. But, of course, one can always plan one's time. How ever," she continued, "one can hardly expect to see much of the very popular Dr. Bulling, whose attention is always so fully taken up."

"Oh, rot!" said the doctor. "I say, can't we get off a little together?

There are nice quiet nooks about the old building."

"Oh, doctor, how shocking!" But her eyes belied her voice, and the doctor departed with the lively expectation of a very pleasant convocation day at Trinity.

The convocation pa.s.sed off with the usual uproar on the part of the students and the usual long-suffering endurance on the part of the dean and faculty and those who were fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to be the orators of the day, the fervent enthusiasm of the undergraduate body finding expression, now in college songs, whose chief characteristic was the vigour with which they were rendered, personal remarks in the way of encouragement, deprecation, pity, or gentle reproof to all who had to take part in the public proceedings, and at intervals in wildly uproarious applause and cheers at the mention of the name of some favourite. At no point was the fervour greater than when Barney was called to receive his medal. To the little group of friends at the left of the desk, consisting of his brother, Margaret, and Iola, it seemed as if the cheering that greeted Barney's name was almost worthy of the occasion. Dr. Trent presented him, and as he spoke of the difficulties he had to contend with in the early part of his course, of the perseverance and indomitable courage the young man had shown, and the singular, indeed the very remarkable, ability he had manifested in the special line of study for which this medal was granted, the dead silence that pervaded the room was even more eloquent than the tumult of cheers that followed Dr. Trent's remarks and that continued until Barney had taken his place again among the graduating cla.s.s.

Then someone called out, "What's the matter with old Carbuncle?"

eliciting the usual vociferous reply, "He's all right!"

"By Jove," said d.i.c.k to Margaret, who sat next him, "isn't that great?

And the old boy deserves it every bit!" But Margaret made no reply. She was sitting with her eyes cast down, pale except for a spot of red in each cheek. At d.i.c.k's words she glanced at him for a moment, and he noticed that the large blue eyes were full of tears.

"It's all right, little girl," he whispered, giving her hand a little pat. He dared say no more, for the sight of her face and the look in her eyes set his own heart beating and gave him a choke in his throat.

On the other side of Margaret sat Iola, her face radiant with pride and joy, and as Barney reached his seat, turning half around and in the face of the whole company, she flashed him a look and a smile so full of pride and love that it seemed to him at that moment as if all he had endured for the last three years were quite worth while.

After the formal proceedings were over, Dr. Bulling made his way to the little group about Barney.

"Congratulations, Boyle," he said, in the somewhat patronizing manner of a graduate of some years' standing to one who holds his parchment in his hand and wears his still blus.h.i.+ng honours as men wear new clothes, "that was a remarkable fine reception you had to-day."

Barney's brief word of acknowledgment showed his resentment of Bulling's tone and his dislike of the man. It angered Barney to observe the familiar, almost confidential, manner of Dr. Bulling with Iola, but it made him more furious to notice that, instead of resenting, Iola seemed to be pleased with his manner. Just now, however, she was giving herself to Barney. Her pride in him, her joy in him, and her quiet appreciation of him, were evident to all, so evident, indeed, that after a few words Dr. Bulling took himself off.

"Brute!" said Barney as the doctor retired.

"Why, I am sure he seems very nice," said Iola, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"Nice!" said Barney contemptuously. "If you knew how the men speak of him about town you wouldn't call him nice. He has money, and he's in the swim, but he's a beast, all the same."

"Oh, Barney, you mustn't say so!" cried Iola, "for you know he's been a great friend to me. He has been very kind. I am quite devoted to him."