Lola Vail,—
Her father, a rich planter, owned a vast
Estate upon the banks of that great stream
Which gathers up the waters of the land
And sweeps them onward to the gulf. Half way
To that strange southern land whence Cedric came
Was Lola born—a schoolmate, friend and guest
Of Dora Lee, and much like her; or as she
Would appear with three more years of summers’
Sun to paint with ruddier glow the bloom of
Health upon her cheek, and tint with deeper
Gold her ample braids; in purity of
Thought and loyalty, they also were alike.
Lola’s mother died when she was young, and
Her father, bringing home a Creole wife,
Unwittingly neglected her; and thought
His duty done when he provided for
The child a nurse—an aged Octoroon—
A pious soul, who gave to Lola all
The love she knew in her sweet childhood life;
And filled the tender mind with holy thoughts
And pure. And Lola daily gathered flowers
And, weeping, laid them on her mother’s grave.
When she was older grown, her father took
Her to the north, she and her faithful nurse,
To bide until she grew to womanhood.
Her education finished, her father
Called her home, but she begged to tarry, yet
A few more days and visit with her friend.
Thus it chanced to come about that Cedric
Vaughn and Homer Lee met sweet Lola Vail
And loved her, each in his own way—Cedric,
With all the fervor of his sincere soul—
And Homer worship’d her, forgetting for
The time his own betrothed. Cedric told her
All, she sitting by his side in shady
Bower, upon a wooded isle, their boat drawn
Up below upon the pebbly beach. He
Told the story of his life, as one a
Painful duty would perform. “She must know
The truth.” And keeping nothing back, he told
Her of his birth and lineage—which was
Equal to her own—his loss of home and
Wealth; his lofty aspirations; high hopes
Now partly realized, though penniless;
But he was going back to that same land
Where he had delved; and there would he employ
The knowledge gained of placer, drift and ledge,
And engineering, to locate and bring
Forth rich treasure from the earth, and in a
Few short years would he return with wealth and
Build a costly home for her in some great
City,—she might name the place. “Could she love
Him? Would she wait for him?” She answered not
By spoken word, but when she lifted her
Fond eyes to his, he read the sweet response.
By his strong arms encircled tenderly,
Her head upon his breast, she wept for joy;
And speaking through her tears: “Oh, leave me not,
But let me share your lot whate’er it be—
A palace or a cot—I would leave all
The world, my Cedric, dear, and go with thee.”
But Cedric kindly told her of the place,
Its roughness, the peons there; and frankly,
But perhaps unwise, he spoke of dangers
From the wild bandits. It was no place for
One so sweet and gentle as his own dear
Lola; it were better she obey her
Father’s call. That day, a week, the ship that
He expected her to take, would leave that
Port. It would not be long; he would stop there
On his way and see her father, speak to
Him, as man to man should speak, all fair and
honorable. The wisdom of his speech
She saw and cheerful yielded to his will.
With fervid kiss their pledges sealed, they sat
In sweet converse till lengthening shadows called;
Then spread their sail and shoreward set the prow
Of their light craft. With rosy finger tips
She swept the strings of her guitar and sang:
“What fairy-like music steals over the sea,
Entrancing the senses with calm melody?
’Tis the voice of the mermaid as she floats o’er the main,
And mingles her notes with the gondolier’s strain.”
Homer and his sister, waiting at the
Mooring, by their merry laughter and love
Glances, half concealed, each read their secret;
And reading, saw the fading shadows of
Their hope. Each concealed the pang; and laughing,
Teased the truants for their tardiness. Then
Timidly the lovers made confession.
“And we will pray,” said Homer, “that to you
Be given the fullness of all earthly
Joy, and then the sweetest bliss of heaven.”
Lola left them; and the three in silence
Watched her waving from the deck; and saw the
Good ship fading in the offing vanish,
Where bending skies come down to meet the sea;
Then sadly turned away—each heart, wounded
By a shaft from Cupid’s bow; arrows from
His quiver, unaimed, ofttimes fly amiss.
Too high born and proud were Dora Lee
And Homer to harbor in their minds dark
Jealousies, or thoughts unkind; but Homer
Was disconsolate; and Dora, cheering,
Said: “You surely will forget your grief; and
Going back to your first love will marry
Her and love her evermore; for no true
Heart can ever love but one.” So it was
Her prophecy came true. Dora loved with
Woman’s constancy; and womanlike found
Comfort in the secret hope (while wishing
Naught but good for Lola Vail), the idle hope
That she one day would marry Cedric Vaughn.
If in the spirit world departed ones
Can see with joy a loved one plodding on,
And faithful to the end, achieve at last
The worthy object sought, then there was joy
Above when Cedric led the class and gained
The highest meed of praise for work well done.
Cedric saw, or tho’t he saw, a shorter
Way to competence than any of the
Kindly offers of a place which, without
His asking, came to him; a great law firm
Wanted him; a professorship in that
Same college he could have; in the counting
House and busy marts of commerce there were
Many op’nings for one as he so well
Endowed and popular. He declined them
All; and yet so gracefully, with thanks, that
They were urged upon him all the more; but
He had fixed his mind on going back, see
Lola on his way, then hasten on to
Carry out his plans; for each hour improved
Would bring them nearer to their wedding day.