ANOTHER SMILAX AFFAIR

The Hatteras was warping into a New York slip the day before Christmas. Bedient was aboard. There was to be a little party for him, given by Cairns and Vina at the Smilax Club that night. The Cairns’ had come over from Nantucket for the winter, and were living at the Club. This was Bedient’s third trip to New York in the half-year preceding. He had not seen Beth, but there had been letters between them of late, important letters, big with reality and understanding. She had been in Europe since July, but had promised to be home for the holidays. Vina’s last letter told him that Beth would be at their affair of greeting to-night.

Adith Mallory saw Jim Framtree in New York, after her hours with Beth Truba. It was the day before he sailed for Equatoria. Framtree asked her not to tell Mr. Bedient that the name of Framtree was spoken in her conversation with Beth. This request gave her a clearer understanding.

Bedient may have guessed that the mystery of the return of Jim Framtree was penetrated by Beth, but he did not ask Miss Mallory, nor mention Framtree in his letters to the lustrous lady. He doubtless wondered at the hasty return of his young friend, but it was a privilege of Beth to return his gifts one of the glowing mysteries of Beth.

Just now, Bedient caught the waving hand of David Cairns in the small crowd below. Fifteen minutes later they were in a cab together.... Beth had returned to New York. This was the answer to Bedient’s first question.

“Are you going to stay with us this time, Andrew?” Cairns asked, raptly studying his friend.

“Yes. Several weeks at least.”

“At the Club?”

“No. I shall go back to Broderick Street to-morrow.”

This was a broken arrow of black sorrows near the East River, straight East from Gramercy. Bedient had found it in the summer, where it had lain rotting in its wound.

“So the New York office of the Carreras plantations is to be in Broderick Street,” Cairns said thoughtfully.

“But I’ll be with you often.... And, David, I’ve brought up a small manuscript which I want you to read. After that we’ll advise together about its publishing

“That is important if the stuff is anything like your letters to me.... Have you thought of attaching your name to this beginning?”

“Not more than A.B.”

“Is everything bright down yonder?” Cairns asked after a moment.

“Bright past any idea you can have. Framtree is doing greatly indispensable and loves the life. Miss Mallory still unfolds. She’s a Caribbean of buried treasure

“And they?” Cairns asked.

“Are friends.”

...Vina met them in her studio. The three stood for a moment in silence among the panels. It was not yet four in the afternoon, but the dusk was thickening.... Vina put on her hat.

“I’ve just received word from Mary McCullom,” she said. “She’s in Union Hospital I don’t know but I must hurry. The word said that Mary McCullom wanted me nothing more. That was her maiden-name. I knew her so. Her husband died recently, but I didn’t hear in time to find her. She must have left New York for a time. They were so happy.... I’m afraid

David went to her.

“No, you mustn’t go with me, David. There are too many things to do for to-night

“Let me go, Vina,” Bedient said.

In the cab, she told him the story of Mary McCullom’s failure as an artist and conquest as a woman the same story she had told Beth Truba and what meant the love of the nurseryman to Mary McCullom.

Vina’s voice had a strange sound in the shut cab. She felt Bedient’s presence, as some strength almost too great for her vitality to sustain. He did not speak.

“Sometimes it seems almost sacrilege,” she said in a trembling tone, “to be so happy as we have been.... I should have persevered until I found her after her ... oh, what that must have meant to her!... And she used to rely upon me so

“... Oh, Vina!” the woman whispered, holding out her arms. “I have wanted you!... I have waited for you to come.... I knew you would. I always loved you, because you made me take him!... We were so happy.... Draw the coverlet back

A new-born child was sleeping at her breast.

Vina had knelt. Her head bent forward in silent passion.

“Won’t you, Vina won’t you take him?”

Vina covered her face, but made no sound.

“She will take the little one,” said the voice above them.

Both women turned their eyes to Bedient. Mary McCullom smiled shyly.

“I remember David Cairns,” she said, in an awed tone. “This is not

“No, dear, but it is enough. I will take your baby.”

The smile brightened.... “Oh, we were so happy,” she whispered.... “And Vina tell him when he is older how his father and I loved the thought of him!”

“He will bless you,” Bedient said.

A glow had fallen upon the weary face of the mother.... “Yes,” she answered. “He will bless us ... and I shall be with my husband.... Oh, now, I can go to my husband!”

Hours afterward, when it was over, Vina looked into Bedient’s face, saying:

“You may ask David why I hesitated that first moment.”

“I know, Vina God love you!”

Before they left the hospital, he said: “We won’t speak of this to-night.... Everything is arranged.... To-morrow morning, we will come for the little boy.... It is time for us to be at the Club.”

“I had forgotten,” Vina answered vaguely.

Kate Wilkes and Marguerite Grey were waiting that evening in the Club library. David Cairns had left them a moment before, called to the telephone.

“Rather a contrast from that other night when we foregathered to meet The Modern fresh from the sea,” Kate Wilkes observed.

“Yes,” said the Grey One.

“David no longer belongs to the coasting-trade in letters,” Kate Wilkes went on whimsically. “He has emerged from a most stubborn case of boyhood. Now he’s got Vina’s big spirit, and she has her happiness and is doing her masterpiece

The women exchanged glances. “You mean the Stations?” the Grey One asked in her quiet way.

“Beth has done a great portrait enough for any woman just one like that,” Kate Wilkes added, ignoring the other.

“For a time I thought Beth and Mr. Bedient ” the Grey One ventured.

“No,” the other said briefly. “Beth loves her work better than she could love any man. She’s the virgin of pictures. Have you seen her since she came back?”

“Yes. As lovely as ever.”

“And your ‘rage’ is on again.... I’m mighty glad about that, Margie. You were suicidal. Does the great fortune hold true?”

“Oh, yes,” the Grey One said, “I’m doing right well. Some of my things are going over the water.”

“Poor little Wordling.... I wonder what she has drawn of the great Driving Good since that night?... I think it would puzzle even Andrew Bedient to make her hark to any soul but New York’s

“And you, Kate this Eve what has the Year brought?”

“Nonsense, I’m glass; hold oil or acid with equal ease,” Kate said, leaning back in the big chair. “I’ve got a bit of work to do, and a few friends whose fortunes have taken a stunning turn for the better. And I mustn’t forget letters from The Modern when he’s away, and talks when he’s in New York.... What astonishes me about Andrew Bedient is that he wears. He set a killing pace for our admiration at first at least, I thought so but he hasn’t let down an instant. He stands the light of the public square. I granted him a great spirit, but he has more, a great nature to hold it. He can mingle with men without going mad. There’s many a prophet who couldn’t do that

David Cairns joined them. “They will be here in a few minutes,” he said. “Beth is due, too.... Talking about Bedient?”

“Yes

“I was just thinking,” Cairns said, “that we were in a way concentrates of New York and the country, and he is talking to all the people through us.”

“You are strong, aren’t you, David for him?” the Grey One asked.

“Yes, and I shall be stronger.”

“I like that,” said Kate Wilkes.

“He’ll work through us and directly,” Cairns went on. “I’m glad to wait and serve and build for a man like that. Why, if a thief took his purse, he would only wish to give him a greater thing.... Moreover, he’s one of the Voices that will break Woman’s silence of the centuries.”

“I believe much that he says all that he says,” Kate Wilkes replied, “that Woman is the bread-giver, spiritual and material; that it is she who conserves the ideals and rewards man for fineness and power when she has a chance. But I also believe that Woman must conquer in herself the love of luxury, her vanity, her fierce competition for worldly position if only for the disastrous effect of such evils upon men. They force him to lower his dreams of her, who should be high-priestess.”

“He has not missed that,” Cairns said, “but there have been multitudes to tell Woman her faults. Bedient restores the dreams of women.... It is Woman who has turned the brute mind of the world from War, and Woman will turn the furious current of the race to-day from the Pits of Trade, where abides the Twentieth Century Lie.”

“David, you’re steering straight through the Big Deep,” Kate Wilkes told him.

“I should have been of untimely birth, if he had not come to me as the most rousing and inspiring of world-men. His face is turned away toward a Great Light. He has put on power wonderfully in the last few months.... He moves with men, but he sees beyond. I know that! And all makes for the most glowing optimism. He sees that our race is on the shadowy borders of cosmic consciousness, as the brightest of our domestic animals to-day are on the borders of self-consciousness. He sees that Woman will be the great teacher when humanity rises. Every thing is bright to him in this shocking modern hour, for it heralds the advent of the Risen Woman!... Yes, I am full of this. I have been getting his letters, and writing about the things he has made me think. The good that we do for the race comes back for we are the race always. I’ve already found so much that is good in the world, that I praise God every morning of my life!”

Beth had come. She was standing beside him.

“Glorious, David,” she said.

And now Vina appeared, to lead them to the big round table in the room of the cabinets.

“He will be here in a minute,” she said.

At each place of the table was an engraved card, which Vina explained: “When Mr. Bedient first came to my studio to me it was a wonderful afternoon. I asked him to write for me some of the things he said, and I thought you would like to keep what came of the request his Credo:”

I BELIEVE

In the natural greatness of Woman; that through the spirit of
Woman are born sons of strength; that only through the potential
greatness of Woman comes the militant greatness of man.

I believe Mothering is the loveliest of the Arts; that great
mothers are hand-maidens of the Spirit, to whom are intrusted
God’s avatars; that no prophet is greater than his mother.

I believe when humanity arises to Spiritual evolution (as it once
evolved through Flesh, and is now evolving through Mind), Woman
will assume the ethical guiding of the race.

I believe that the Holy Spirit of the Trinity is Mystic Motherhood, and the source of the divine principle in Woman; that Prophets are the union of this divine principle and higher manhood; that they are beyond the attractions of women of flesh, because unto their manhood has been added Mystic Motherhood.

I believe in the Godhood of the Christ; that unto the manhood of the Son and Mystic Motherhood was added, upon Resurrection, the Third Lustrous Dimension of the Father-God; that, thus Jesus became the first fruit of earth, and thus He is enhanced above St. Paul and the Forerunner, becoming Three in One Man, risen to Prophecy through illumination of the Holy Spirit, and to Godhood, through his ineffable services to Men.

I believe that the way to Godhood is the Rising Road of Man.

I believe that, as the human mother brings a child to her husband,
the father, so Mystic Motherhood, the Holy Spirit, is bringing
the world to God, the Father.

All had read, when Bedient entered. He went first to Beth....

“It’s our own original gathering,” he said, after a moment, “ but Mrs. Wordling where is she?”

Cairns’ eye turned to Beth. She fixed hers upon him, as if it helped to hold her strength.

Kate Wilkes answered: “We can find out in a moment in the West somewhere with her company

“She’s in Detroit this week,” came slowly from Beth. “I saw it to-day in a dramatic paper

“Thank you.... We’ll send a telegram of greeting. She must know she isn’t forgotten.”

He wrote it out.

Kate Wilkes glanced at the Grey One, as if to say: “Here’s something to make her forget the soul of New York.”

“I’m thankful to be here,” Bedient said, in a moment. “It’s like one’s very own.”