LOLA IS HAPPY IN DOCTOR FENWAY’S ROOMS.
“Go where? Do you suppose that if I could have found out where they have taken her that I would be here now?” demanded John. “I went to this Mrs. Harlan’s apartment as fast as a taxicab could get me there. Her maid said that Mrs. Harlan had not returned, and was not expected before late in the following day. The hall boys absolutely denied having seen her since noon. What was I to do? While I stood there at the door she may have been standing within six feet of me, laughing at me, as she did once before to-night. How was I to know? I left there, and rode downtown to Fenway’s rooms, on the chance that he had left her. They let me go upstairs to his apartment. At the door a servant tried to stop me, but I threw him aside, and went in. There was a crowd of half-drunken men and girls there. I asked for him, and they told me that they hardly expected him to return as he had gone away with a regular peach! Damn them! They wouldn’t tell me where I could hope to find him, and when I grew excited they laughed at me. By God, Doctor, I’ve been laughed at too often to-night. Someone is going to pay me for it.”
“My dear boy,” said the Doctor gently, “surely we have enough to bear now; bringing another tragedy into our lives is not going to do any good.”
“What’s the use of talking?” John was quite unnerved by all the experiences and shocks of the last few hours. “I came here because it was useless to search any more until daylight. But I am going to find that man. He can’t hide himself from me forever. He may take her away. He probably will, but I’ll go after them. Not to bring her back; I can’t do that. I can’t ever, ever think of her again with anything but pity, but, by God, I can take him out of her life; yes, and I am going to do it!”
“My dear boy!” Dr. Crossett would have given much to be able to comfort him, but as he had said, “it wasn’t any use to talk, suppose we sleep over this. We can’t do anything for several hours yet, and we are both tired out. Come!”
“Sleep! Do you expect me to sleep with the thought of Lola and that mean being together, driving me almost insane? Oh, I was a fool to come here. I should have kept on hunting for them. I must have known you wouldn’t understand. You don’t know what it is to love a girl, and to lose her; to think of her and some other man living, laughing, loving one another, without a thought of you.”
For a moment the Doctor seemed about to reply, but with only a slight hesitation he smiled rather sadly to himself, and spoke gently but with a trace of irony.
“We will grant, John, that I do not understand; that I know nothing of loving a woman whom fate sees fit to separate me from; but I do know this: Always there must be one love stronger than another; as it was with you and Lola, so it always is. One who loves, and gives, one who is loved, and takes; not always selfishly, but always it is so. In your life you may love again, for you are young, but you will never again be able to give to any woman just what you gave to her. It is not any man’s to give more than once. If I were you I should try to be worthy of the love that, on your part at least, was a very sacred thing. Any scandal you bring upon her now, any act of selfish revenge for your very real wrongs, is just going to become the darkest shadow on your memory of her. If I could do it, my boy, I should forget the woman, and only remember the love you had for her, for in all your life you will never know a finer thing.”
“You are a good man, Doctor, and I am ashamed for having spoken as I did,” replied John earnestly. “I can’t make you any promise, because to me there is only one thing to live for, just now—to find them. What will happen then I don’t know, but I must speak to her once more, and to him. I am going home now, to change my clothes, and to write a note to the bank. You must try to get some sleep. I will see you during the day.”
“Am I to depend upon that?” inquired the Doctor.