Iola Leroy by Frances E.W. Harper

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When the regular business of the morning session was over the bishop
arose and said:--

"I have an interesting duty to perform. I wish to introduce a young lady
to the conference, who was the daughter of a Mississippi planter. She is
now in search of her mother and brother, from whom she was sold a few
months before the war. Her father married her mother in Ohio, where he
had taken her to be educated. After his death they were robbed of their
inheritance and enslaved by a distant relative named Lorraine. Miss Iola
Leroy is the young lady's name. If any one can give the least
information respecting the objects of her search it will be thankfully
received."

"I can," exclaimed a young man, rising in the midst of the audience, and
pressing eagerly, almost impetuously, forward. "I am her brother, and I
came here to look for her."

Iola raised her eyes to his face, so flushed and bright with the glow of
recognition, rushed to him, threw her arms around his neck, kissed him
again and again, crying: "O, Harry!" Then she fainted from excitement.
The women gathered around her with expressions of tender sympathy, and
gave her all the care she needed. They called her the "dear child," for
without any effort on her part she had slidden into their hearts and
found a ready welcome in each sympathizing bosom.

Harry at once telegraphed the glad tidings to his mother, who waited
their coming with joyful anticipation. Long before the cars reached the
city, Mrs. Leroy was at the depot, restlessly walking the platform or
eagerly peering into the darkness to catch the first glimpse of the
train which was bearing her treasures.

At length the cars arrived, and, as Harry and Iola alighted, Marie
rushed forward, clasped Iola in her arms and sobbed out her joy in
broken words.

Very happy was the little family that sat together around the
supper-table for the first time for years. They partook of that supper
with thankful hearts and with eyes overflowing with tears of joy. Very
touching were the prayers the mother uttered, when she knelt with her
children that night to return thanks for their happy reunion, and to
seek protection through the slumbers of the night.

The next morning, as they sat at the breakfast-table, Marie said:

"My dear child, you are so changed I do not think I would have known you
if I had met you in the street!"

"And I," said Harry, "can hardly realize that you are our own Iola, whom
I recognized as sister a half dozen years ago."

"Am I so changed?" asked Iola, as a faint sigh escaped her lips.

"Why, Iola," said Harry, "you used to be the most harum-scarum girl I
ever knew, laughing, dancing, and singing from morning until night."

"Yes, I remember," said Iola. "It all comes back to me like a dream. Oh,
mamma! I have passed through a fiery ordeal of suffering since then. But
it is useless," and as she continued her face assumed a brighter look,
"to brood over the past. Let us be happy in the present. Let me tell you
something which will please you. Do you remember telling me about your
mother and brother?"

"Yes," said Marie, in a questioning tone."

"Well," continued Iola, with eyes full of gladness, "I think I have
found them."

"Can it be possible!" exclaimed Marie, in astonishment. "It is more than
thirty years since we parted. I fear you are mistaken."

"No, mamma; I have drawn my conclusions from good circumstantial
evidence. After I was taken from you, I passed through a fearful siege
of suffering, which would only harrow up your soul to hear. I often
shudder at the remembrance. The last man in whose clutches I found
myself was mean, brutal, and cruel. I was in his power when the Union
army came into C----, where I was living. A number of colored men
stampeded to the Union ranks, with a gentleman as a leader, whom I think
is your brother. A friend of his reported my case to the commander of
the post, who instantly gave orders for my release. A place was given me
as nurse in the hospital. I attended that friend in his last illness.
Poor fellow! he was the best friend I had in all the time I have been
tossing about. The gentleman whom I think is your brother appeared to be
very anxious about his friend's recovery, and was deeply affected by his
death. In one of the last terrible battles of the war, that of Five
Forks, he was wounded and put into the hospital ward where I was an
attendant. For awhile he was delirious, and in his delirium he would
sometimes think that I was his mother and at other times his sister. I
humored his fancies, would often sing to him when he was restless, and
my voice almost invariably soothed him to sleep. One day I sang to him
that old hymn we used to sing on the plantation:--

"Drooping souls no longer grieve,
Heaven is propitious;
If on Christ you do believe,
You will find Him precious."

"I remember," said Marie, with a sigh, as memories of the past swept
over her.

"After I had finished the hymn," continued Iola, "he looked earnestly
and inquiringly into my face, and asked, 'Where did you learn that hymn?
I have heard my mother sing it when I was a boy, but I have never heard
it since.' I think, mamma, the words, 'I was lost but now I'm found;
glory! glory! glory!' had imprinted themselves on his memory, and that
his mind was assuming a higher state of intellectuality. He asked me to
sing it again, which I did, until he fell asleep. Then I noticed a
marked resemblance between him and Harry, and I thought, 'Suppose he
should prove to be your long-lost brother?' During his convalescence we
found that we had a common ground of sympathy. We were anxious to be
reunited to our severed relations. We had both been separated from our
mothers. He told me of his little sister, with whom he used to play. She
had a mole on her cheek which he called her beauty spot. He had the red
spot on his forehead which you told me of."

CHAPTER XXIII.

DELIGHTFUL REUNIONS.

Very bright and happy was the home where Marie and her children were
gathered under one roof. Mrs. Leroy's neighbors said she looked ten
years younger. Into that peaceful home came no fearful forebodings of
cruel separations. Harry and Iola were passionately devoted to their
mother, and did all they could to flood her life with sunshine.

"Iola, dear," said Harry, one morning at the breakfast-table, "I have a
new pleasure in store for you."

"What is it, brother mine?" asked Iola, assuming an air of interest.

"There is a young lady living in this city to whom I wish to introduce
you. She is one of the most remarkable women I have ever met."

"Do tell me all about her," said Iola. "Is she young and handsome,
brilliant and witty?

"She," replied Harry, "is more than handsome, she is lovely; more than
witty, she is wise; more than brilliant, she is excellent."

"Well, Harry," said Mrs. Leroy, smiling, "if you keep on that way I
shall begin to fear that I shall soon be supplanted by a new daughter."

"Oh, no, mamma," replied Harry, looking slightly confused, "I did not
mean that."

"Well, Harry," said Iola, amused, "go on with your description; I am
becoming interested. Tax your powers of description to give me her
likeness."

"Well, in the first place," continued Harry, "I suppose she is about
twenty-five years old."

"Oh, the idea," interrupted Iola, "of a gentleman talking of a lady's
age. That is a tabooed subject."

"Why, Iola, that adds to the interest of my picture. It is her
combination of earnestness and youthfulness which enhances her in my
estimation."

"Pardon the interruption," said Iola; "I am anxious to hear more about
her."

"Well, she is of medium height, somewhat slender, and well formed, with
dark, expressive eyes, full of thought and feeling. Neither hair nor
complexion show the least hint of blood admixture."

"I am glad of it," said Iola. "Every person of unmixed blood who
succeeds in any department of literature, art, or science is a living
argument for the capability which is in the race."

"Yes," responded Harry, "for it is not the white blood which is on trial
before the world. Well, I will bring her around this evening."

In the evening Harry brought Miss Delany to call on his sister and
mother. They were much pleased with their visitor. Her manner was a
combination of suavity and dignity. During the course of the evening
they learned that she was a graduate of the University of A----. One day
she saw in the newspapers that colored women were becoming unfit to be
servants for white people. She then thought that if they are not fit to
be servants for white people, they are unfit to be mothers to their own
children, and she conceived the idea of opening a school to train future
wives and mothers. She began on a small scale, in a humble building,
and her work was soon crowned with gratifying success. She had enlarged
her quarters, increased her teaching force, and had erected a large and
commodious school-house through her own exertions and the help of
others.

Marie cordially invited her to call again, saying, as she rose to go: "I
am very glad to have met you. Young women like you always fill my heart
with hope for the future of our race. In you I see reflected some of the
blessed possibilities which lie within us."

"Thank you," said Miss Delany, "I want to be classed among those of whom
it is said, 'She has done what she could.'"

Very pleasant was the acquaintance which sprang up between Miss Delany
and Iola. Although she was older than Iola, their tastes were so
congenial, their views of life and duty in such unison, that their
acquaintance soon ripened into strong and lasting friendship. There were
no foolish rivalries and jealousies between them. Their lives were too
full of zeal and earnestness for them to waste in selfishness their
power to be moral and spiritual forces among a people who so much needed
their helping hands. Miss Delany gave Iola a situation in her school;
but before the term was quite over she was force to resign, her health
having been so undermined by the fearful strain through which she had
passed, that she was quite unequal to the task. She remained at home,
and did what her strength would allow in assisting her mother in the
work of canning and preserving fruits.

In the meantime, Iola had been corresponding with Robert. She had told
him of her success in finding her mother and brother, and had received
an answer congratulating her on the glad fruition of her hopes. He also
said that his business was flourishing, that his mother was keeping
house for him, and, to use her own expression, was as happy as the days
are long. She was firmly persuaded that Marie was her daughter, and she
wanted to see her before she died.

"There is one thing," continued the letter, "that your mother may
remember her by. It was a little handkerchief on which were a number of
cats' heads. She gave one to each of us."

"I remember it well," said Marie, "she must, indeed, be my mother. Now,
all that is needed to complete my happiness is her presence, and my
brother's. And I intend, if I live long enough, to see them both."

Iola wrote Robert that her mother remembered the incident of the
handkerchief, and was anxious to see them.

In the early fall Robert started for the South in order to clear up all
doubts with respect to their relationship. He found Iola, Harry, and
their mother living cosily together. Harry was teaching and was a leader
among the rising young men of the State. His Northern education and
later experience had done much toward adapting him to the work of the
new era which had dawned upon the South.

Marie was very glad to welcome Robert to her home, but it was almost
impossible to recognize her brother in that tall, handsome man, with
dark-brown eyes and wealth of chestnut-colored hair, which he readily
lifted to show the crimson spot which lay beneath it.

But as they sat together, and recalled the long-forgotten scenes of
their childhood, they concluded that they were brother and sister.

"Marie," said Robert, "how would you like to leave the South?"

"I should like to go North, but I hate to leave Harry. He's a splendid
young fellow, although I say it myself. He is so fearless and outspoken
that I am constantly anxious about him, especially at election time."

Harry then entered the room, and, being introduced to Robert, gave him a
cordial welcome. He had just returned from school.

"We were talking of you, my son," said Marie.

"What were you saying? Nothing of the absent but good?" asked Harry.

"I was telling your uncle, who wants me to come North, that I would go,
but I am afraid that you will get into trouble and be murdered, as many
others have been."

"Oh, well, mother, I shall not die till my time comes. And if I die
helping the poor and needy, I shall die at my post. Could a man choose a
better place to die?"

"Were you aware of the virulence of caste prejudice and the disabilities
which surround the colored people when you cast your lot with them?"
asked Robert.

"Not fully," replied Harry; "but after I found out that I was colored, I
consulted the principal of the school, where I was studying, in
reference to the future. He said that if I stayed in the North, he had
friends whom he believed would give me any situation I could fill, and I
could simply take my place in the rank of workers, the same as any other
man. Then he told me of the army, and I made up my mind to enter it,
actuated by a desire to find my mother and sister; and at any rate I
wanted to avenge their wrongs. I do not feel so now. Since I have seen
the fearful ravages of war, I have learned to pity and forgive. The
principal said he thought I would be more apt to find my family if I
joined a colored regiment in the West than if I joined one of the Maine
companies. I confess at first I felt a shrinking from taking the step,
but love for my mother overcame all repugnance on my part. Now that I
have linked my fortunes to the race I intend to do all I can for its
elevation."

As he spoke Robert gazed admiringly on the young face, lit up by noble
purposes and lofty enthusiasm.

"You are right, Harry. I think it would be treason, not only to the
race, but to humanity, to have you ignoring your kindred and
masquerading as a white man."

"I think so, too," said Marie.

"But, sister, I am anxious for you all to come North. If Harry feels
that the place of danger is the post of duty, let him stay, and he can
spend his vacations with us. I think both you and Iola need rest and
change. Mother longs to see you before she dies. She feels that we have
been the children of many prayers and tears, and I want to make her last
days as happy as possible. The South has not been a paradise to you all
the time, and I should think you would be willing to leave it."

"Yes, that is so. Iola needs rest and change, and she would be such a
comfort to mother. I suppose, for her sake, I will consent to have her
go back with you, at least for awhile."

In a few days, with many prayers and tears, Marie, half reluctantly,
permitted Iola to start for the North in company with Robert Johnson,
intending to follow as soon as she could settle her business and see
Harry in a good boarding place.

Very joyful was the greeting of the dear grandmother. Iola soon nestled
in her heart and lent additional sunshine to her once checkered life,
and Robert, who had so long been robbed of kith and kin, was delighted
with the new accession to his home life.

CHAPTER XXIV.

NORTHERN EXPERIENCE.

"Uncle Robert," said Iola, after she had been North several weeks, "I
have a theory that every woman ought to know how to earn her own living.
I believe that a great amount of sin and misery springs from the
weakness and inefficiency of women."

"Perhaps that's so, but what are you going to do about it?"

"I am going to join the great rank of bread-winners. Mr. Waterman has
advertised for a number of saleswomen, and I intend to make
application."

"When he advertises for help he means white women," said Robert.

"He said nothing about color," responded Iola.

"I don't suppose he did. He doesn't expect any colored girl to apply."

"Well, I think I could fill the place. At least I should like to try.
And I do not think when I apply that I am in duty bound to tell him my
great-grandmother was a negro."

"Well, child, there is no necessity for you to go out to work. You are
perfectly welcome here, and I hope that you feel so."

"Oh, I certainly do. But still I would rather earn my own living."

That morning Iola applied for the situation, and, being prepossessing in
her appearance, she obtained it.

For awhile everything went as pleasantly as a marriage bell. But one day
a young colored lady, well-dressed and well-bred in her manner, entered
the store. It was an acquaintance which Iola had formed in the colored
church which she attended. Iola gave her a few words of cordial
greeting, and spent a few moments chatting with her. The attention of
the girls who sold at the same counter was attracted, and their
suspicion awakened. Iola was a stranger in that city. Who was she, and
who were her people? At last it was decided that one of the girls should
act as a spy, and bring what information she could concerning Iola.

The spy was successful. She found out that Iola was living in a good
neighborhood, but that none of the neighbors knew her. The man of the
house was very fair, but there was an old woman whom Iola called
"Grandma," and she was unmistakably colored. The story was sufficient.
If that were true, Iola must be colored, and she should be treated
accordingly.

Without knowing the cause, Iola noticed a chill in the social atmosphere
of the store, which communicated itself to the cash-boys, and they
treated her so insolently that her situation became very uncomfortable.
She saw the proprietor, resigned her position, and asked for and
obtained a letter of recommendation to another merchant who had
advertised for a saleswoman.

In applying for the place, she took the precaution to inform her
employer that she was colored. It made no difference to him; but he
said:--

"Don't say anything about it to the girls. They might not be willing to
work with you."

Iola smiled, did not promise, and accepted the situation. She entered
upon her duties, and proved quite acceptable as a saleswoman.

One day, during an interval in business, the girls began to talk of
their respective churches, and the question was put to Iola:--

"Where do you go to church?"

"I go," she replied, "to Rev. River's church, corner of Eighth and L
Streets."

"Oh, no; you must be mistaken. There is no church there except a colored
one."

"That is where I go."

"Why do you go there?"

"Because I liked it when I came here, and joined it."

"A member of a colored church? What under heaven possessed you to do
such a thing?"

"Because I wished to be with my own people."

Here the interrogator stopped, and looked surprised and pained, and
almost instinctively moved a little farther from her. After the store
was closed, the girls had an animated discussion, which resulted in the
information being sent to Mr. Cohen that Iola was a colored girl, and
that they protested against her being continued in his employ. Mr. Cohen
yielded to the pressure, and informed Iola that her services were no
longer needed.

When Robert came home in the evening, he found that Iola had lost her
situation, and was looking somewhat discouraged.

"Well, uncle," she said, "I feel out of heart. It seems as if the
prejudice pursues us through every avenue of life, and assigns us the
lowest places."

"That is so," replied Robert, thoughtfully.

"And yet I am determined," said Iola, "to win for myself a place in the
fields of labor. I have heard of a place in New England, and I mean to
try for it, even if I only stay a few months."

"Well, if you _will_ go, say nothing about your color."

"Uncle Robert, I see no necessity for proclaiming that fact on the
house-top. Yet I am resolved that nothing shall tempt me to deny it. The
best blood in my veins is African blood, and I am not ashamed of it."

"Hurrah for you!" exclaimed Robert, laughing heartily.

As Iola wished to try the world for herself, and so be prepared for any
emergency, her uncle and grandmother were content to have her go to New
England. The town to which she journeyed was only a few hours' ride from
the city of P----, and Robert, knowing that there is no teacher like
experience, was willing that Iola should have the benefit of her
teaching.

Iola, on arriving in H----, sought the firm, and was informed that her
services were needed. She found it a pleasant and lucrative position.
There was only one drawback--her boarding place was too far from her
work. There was an institution conducted by professed Christian women,
which was for the special use of respectable young working girls. This
was in such a desirable location that she called at the house to engage
board.

The matron conducted her over the house, and grew so friendly in the
interview that she put her arm around her, and seemed to look upon Iola
as a desirable accession to the home. But, just as Iola was leaving, she
said to the matron: "I must be honest with you; I am a colored woman."

Swift as light a change passed over the face of the matron. She withdrew
her arm from Iola, and said: "I must see the board of managers about
it."

When the board met, Iola's case was put before them, but they decided
not to receive her. And these women, professors of a religion which
taught, "If ye have respect to persons ye commit sin," virtually shut
the door in her face because of the outcast blood in her veins.

Considerable feeling was aroused by the action of these women, who, to
say the least, had not put their religion in the most favorable light.

Iola continued to work for the firm until she received letters from her
mother and uncle, which informed her that her mother, having arranged
her affairs in the South, was ready to come North. She then resolved to
return, to the city of P----, to be ready to welcome her mother on her
arrival.

Iola arrived in time to see that everything was in order for her
mother's reception. Her room was furnished neatly, but with those
touches of beauty that womanly hands are such adepts in giving. A few
charming pictures adorned the walls, and an easy chair stood waiting to
receive the travel-worn mother. Robert and Iola met her at the depot;
and grandma was on her feet at the first sound of the bell, opened the
door, clasped Marie to her heart, and nearly fainted for joy.

"Can it be possible dat dis is my little Marie?" she exclaimed.

It did seem almost impossible to realize that this faded woman, with
pale cheeks and prematurely whitened hair, was the rosy-cheeked child
from whom she had been parted more than thirty years.

"Well," said Robert, after the first joyous greeting was over, "love is
a very good thing, but Marie has had a long journey and needs something
that will stick by the ribs. How about dinner, mother?"

"It's all ready," said Mrs. Johnson.

After Marie had gone to her room and changed her dress, she came down
and partook of the delicious repast which her mother and Iola had
prepared for her.

In a few days Marie was settled in the home, and was well pleased with
the change. The only drawback to her happiness was the absence of her
son, and she expected him to come North after the closing of his school.

"Uncle Robert," said Iola, after her mother had been with them several
weeks, "I am tired of being idle."

"What's the matter now?" asked Robert. "You are surely not going East
again, and leave your mother?"

"Oh, I hope not," said Marie, anxiously. "I have been so long without
you."

"No, mamma, I am not going East. I can get suitable employment here in
the city of P----."

"But, Iola," said Robert, "you have tried, and been defeated. Why
subject yourself to the same experience again?"

"Uncle Robert, I think that every woman should have some skill or art
which would insure her at least a comfortable support. I believe there
would be less unhappy marriages if labor were more honored among women."

"Well, Iola," said her mother, "what is your skill?"

"Nursing. I was very young when I went into the hospital, but I
succeeded so well that the doctor said I must have been a born nurse.
Now, I see by the papers, that a gentleman who has an invalid daughter
wants some one who can be a nurse and companion for her, and I mean to
apply for the situation. I do not think, if I do my part well in that
position, that the blood in my veins will be any bar to my success."

A troubled look stole over Marie's face. She sighed faintly, but made no
remonstrance. And so it was decided that Iola should apply for the
situation.

Iola made application, and was readily accepted. Her patient was a frail
girl of fifteen summers, who was ill with a low fever. Iola nursed her
carefully, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing her restored to
health. During her stay, Mr. Cloten, the father of the invalid, had
learned some of the particulars of Iola's Northern experience as a
bread-winner, and he resolved to give her employment in his store when
her services were no longer needed in the house. As soon as a vacancy
occurred he gave Iola a place in his store.

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