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Cairns might have taken this very lightly; even with a reservation that she knew realities did not fit the ideal; that such realities were not for the elect always; but he chose to regard it instead, as an expression of Vina's yearning, which she felt safe in disclosing for the sake of the ingenious picture she made.... He looked about this remarkable studio in the heart of New York, where a really great task was being wrought to endure.
Who's yo' fader an' mudder? says I. 'George was my fader, says she, 'but de abolitioners done carried him off an' chawed him up. I'se awful skeered ob de abolitioners, I is. I ain't got no fader nor mudder: de buzzards done hatched me. Wall, I was dat sho' it was Vina's chile dat I didn' wait no longer, but jus' toted her roun' to de ice-cream stan' an' filled her chock full of ice-cream.
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.
Dar was a right smart sprinklin' ob niggers on de groun's, mos' ob dem hangin' roun' de 'freshment-stan's, an' I walked roun' 'mongst 'em kinder careless, zif I wasn't t'inkin' ob nuffin' pertik'lar, when I see standin' right in front ob me a little one-eyed gal dat 'minded me mightily ob Vina's George.
The branches of the trees about the lower windows, softly harped the sound of the sea ... Vina's hands were pressed strangely to her breast, as she crossed to an open window.... And there she stood, face averted, and not moving her hands, until she felt him near. "But I must tell you that the thought was not mine first of all, Vina," Cairns was saying an hour afterward.
A long, low talk followed, but Beth did not tell that she had spurred David to look deeply into Vina's case, through a remark made by Andrew Bedient.... The Grey One was emancipated, restless. She bloomed like a lily as she moved about the studio, above the shaded reading-lamps. Beth felt her happiness, the intensity of it, and rejoiced with her.
The 'season, as it is called in great cities, was over unfortunately, the last season that was ever destined to illuminate the society or to stimulate the domestic trade of Dublin." "Vina's got an idee she wants to git married." The speaker was a venerable darkey, who stood twirling his rimless hat with a sheepish air in the probate-office.
Emigration flowed in rapidly, both from the South and the North, and the terrible days of Border Ruffianism followed. Vina's master settled upon a farm in Southern Kansas, on the banks of a little stream called then by the picturesque name of the Marais des Cygnes, which has since been changed to one of a more prosaic character.
It was hard for her to keep her doubts about Bedient. Most of all that impressed her was Vina's sense of the mother's nearness to the man. She had thought of that at once, as she listened to his story. And he had not told Vina nor the Grey One about his mother... She sat down at her table and drew forth the opened but unread letter from Albany.
It's an experience to watch her work, and Vina's worth knowing pure spirit.... Would you like to go up with me?" Alternating fascinations possessed Bedient, as the elevator carried them upward.... These were his real playmates, these people of pictures and statues. He had come a long way through different lights and darkness to find them.
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