FOURTH CHAPTER
PAULA ENCOUNTERS HER ADVERSARY WHO TURNS PROPHET AND TELLS OF A STARRYCHILD SOON TO BE BORN
Paula went upstairs to the editorial rooms with Reifferscheid thefollowing morning for Charter's letter. This she carried into thecity-office to be alone. Forenoon is the dead time of a morningnewspaper. The place seemed still tired from the all-night struggle tospring a paper to the streets. She thrust up a window for fresh air andsat down in a reporter's chair to read.... The letter was big withboyish delight. "When a man spends a couple of years growing andtrimming a pile of stuff into a sizable book," he had written, "and thefirst of the important reviews comes in with such a message ofenthusiasm, it is the heart's 'well-done' long waited for." Beyond this,there was only a line or two about the book. It had been in thepublisher's hands six months, and he was cold to it now. _The States_had interested him, however, because there was an inclination in thearticle to look at his work to come. In fact, some of the thoughts ofthe reviewer, he wrote, were sympathetic with the subject-mattersimmering in his mind. Naturally, the coincidence had thrilled him.Charter, believing that Reifferscheid had done the work, wrote withutmost freedom. This attracted Paula, as it gave her a glimpse of acertain fineness between men who admire each other. The issue was notclosed.... She wanted to answer the letter then and there at thereporter's desk, but Reifferscheid knew she had not gone. He might comein--and laugh at her precipitation.
After a night of perfect rest, Paula's mind was animated with thoughtsof work--until she reached the _Zoroaster_. Something of Bellingham'stormenting energy was heavy in the atmosphere of her rooms. When passingthe full-length mirror, she turned her face away in fear. Impatientlyshe caught up one of the new books (and Charter's letter for a marker),and hurried across to the Park. The fall days were still flawless.
It was not yet ten in the morning, and few people were abroad. She satdown upon one of the weathered knobs of Manhattan rock which had wornthrough the thin skin of soil, and allowed herself to think of theformidable affliction. To all intents, the magician had dispossessed herof the rooms, identified for years with her personality and no other.She could not put away the truth that the full forces of her mind wereat bay before the psychic advances of the dreadful stranger. This wasnot long to be endured. Inasmuch that his power did not harmlesslyglance from her, she felt that there must be great potentialities ofevil within herself. This conviction made her frightened and desperate.She should have known that it was her inner development, hersensitiveness which had made her so potent an attraction for Bellingham.The substance of her whole terror was that there had been moments underhis spell, when she had not been at all the mistress of her own will.
The suggestions which he projected had seemed to her the good and properactions. She knew it as a law--that every time her own divine right tothe rule of her faculties was thus usurped by an evil force, herresistance was weakened. Yet there was a shocking unfairness in thethought that she was not given a chance. In the throne-room of her mind,she was not queen. All the sacred fortifications of self seemed broken,even the soul's integrity debased, when Bellingham crushed his way inand forced her to obey. This is the great psychological crime. When onehas broken into the sacred precincts, the door is left open for othermalignant, earth-bound entities foully to enter and betray....
There was no one in whom she could confide, but Madame Nestor. Almostany professional man, a physician especially, would have called herrevelations hysterical.... Her constant and growing fear was of the timewhen she should be called by Bellingham--and nothing would supervene tosave her. Some time the spell might not be broken. She became ill withtension and shame as this unspeakable possibility seethed through hermind.... Better death than to continue in being passion-ridden by thisdefiler, in the presence of whom she became so loathsome in her ownsight--that she dared not pray....
Somewhere far off children were talking. Their voices warmed andcleansed her mind. There was a stimulating thud of hoofs on theturf-roads. She tried to read now. Her eyes travelled dutifully alongthe lines of her book, without bringing forth even the phase of athought from the page of print. A swift step drew her glance down thefoot-path. Bellingham was approaching. His shoulders were thrown back,his long arms swinging so that every muscle was in play, stridingforward at incredible speed. He filled his lungs with every cubic inchof morning air they could contain, and expelled the volume with gusto.She had once seen a rugged Englishman take his exercise as seriously asthis, on the promenade of an Atlantic liner before the breakfast-gong.To all appearances, Bellingham did not have a thought apart from hisconstitutional.
Paula sat very still on the rock. Her slightest movement now wouldattract his attention. It occurred to her afterwards that she had beenlike a crippled squirrel huddled in the fork of a tree--the hunter andhis dog below....
At the point where the path was nearest her, he halted. The thinghappened exactly as she might have conceived it in a story. For a momenthe seemed to be searching his mind for the meaning of his impulse tostop. An unforgettable figure, this, as he stood there with lifted head,concentrating upon the vagary which had brought him to a standstill....Paula may have been mistaken in her terror, but she never relinquishedthe thought that her proximity was known to him--before his face turnedunerringly to the rock and his bright gray eyes filled with herpresence.
"You are Miss Linster?" he asked, smiling agreeably.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
"You attended the first of my Prismatic Hall lectures ten days ago?... Iseldom forget a face, and I remember asking one of my committee yourname."
Paula found it rather a unique effort to hold in mind the truth that shehad never spoken to this man before. Then the whole trend of her mentalactivity was suddenly complicated by the thought that all her pastterrors might be groundless. Possibly Madame Nestor was insane on thissubject. "It may be that her mad words and my stimulated imaginationhave reared a monster that has no actuality."
The bracing voices of the children, the brilliance of mid-forenoon, theman's kingly figure, agreeable courtesy, and commanding health--indeed,apart from the eyes in which she hardly dared to glance, there wasnothing to connect him even vaguely with the sinister persecutions whichbore his image. The whole world-mind was with him. What right had she tosay that the world-mind was in error and she normal--she and theunreckonable Madame Nestor?... Paula recalled the strange intensity ofher mental life for years, and the largeness of her solitudes. Theworld-mind would say she was beside herself from much study.... Morethan all, no power was exerted upon her now. Who would believe that thisBellingham, with miles of the metropolis between them, had repeatedlyover-ridden her volition, when she felt no threatening influence at thepresent moment, almost within his reach--only the innate repulsion andthe fear of her fears?
"I hope to see you again at the meetings, Miss Linster."
"They do not attract me."
"That is important, if unpleasant to learn," he remarked, as ifgenuinely perturbed. "I have been studying for a long time, and perhapsI have taken a roundabout road to discovery. It is quite possible thatthe values of my instruction are over-estimated by many.... Do you mindif I sit down a moment? I have walked a hundred squares and will startback from here." From his manner it was impossible to imagine ironycovert in his humbleness.
"Certainly not, though I must return to my apartment in a moment.... Idid not like the atmosphere--the audience--that first night," Paulaadded.
"Nor did I, altogether," he said quickly. "But how can one choose thereal, if all are not admitted at first? With each lecture you will finda more select company, and there will be very few when the actualmessage is unfolded."
He glanced away as if to determine the exact point through the treesfrom which the children's voices came. His profile was unquestionablythat of an aristocrat. The carriage of his head, the wonderfuldevelopment of his figure, his voice and the gentle temper of hisanswers, even the cut of his coat and the elegance of his shoessu
ggested an unconscious and invariable refinement which controvertedthe horror he had once seemed.
"It may be that I am not quite like other people," she said, "but Icannot think of physical perfection as the first aim in life."
"Nor can I," he answered; "still I think that after the elimination ofpoisons from the physical organism, one's mental and spiritual powersare quickened and freer to develop."
"Do you always shape your philosophy to meet the objections of yourdisciples--so?"
"You are stimulating, Miss Linster, but I have made no concession toadapt myself to your views. I only declared that I weed out my classesbefore real work begins, and that physical disease retards mentalgrowth. I might add that I do not lecture for money."
"Why do you teach only women?"
"There are several reasons," he replied readily enough. "I have foundthat a mixed audience is not receptive; there is a self-consciousness,sometimes worse, something of a scoffing spirit, which breaks the pointof my appeal. Women are aroused to interest when a man appeals directlyto them. They do not like to betray a profound interest in any subjectapart from the household--when their lords are present. Maninstinctively combats any source which tends toward mental emancipationon the part of women. It is only a few decades ago that women wereforced to abide entirely within their domestic circle. Instead of usinga superior physical strength now to keep her there, man's tendency is toridicule her outside interests. So I have found that women prefer tostudy alone."
Bellingham answered thus circuitously, but his manner suggested that hewas grateful for the inquiry, since it gave him an opportunity toexpress matters which had only been half-formed in his mind. Paula,whose every question had come from an inclination to confound him, beganto realize that the spirit was unworthy and partook of impertinence.
"I believe in automatic health," she said impatiently. "It seems to methat refinement means this: that in real fineness all such things aremanaged with a sort of unconscious art. For instance, I should not havehealth at the price of walking twice a hundred blocks in a forenoon----"
"The point is eminently reasonable, Miss Linster," Bellingham remarkedwith a smile. "But what I find it well to do, I rarely advise forothers. I am from a stock of powerful physical men. My fathers weresailors and fishermen. They gave me an organism which weakens if Ineglect exercise, and I seem to require about five times as muchphysical activity as many men of the present generation. I haveabsolutely no use for this tremendous muscular strength; in fact, Ishould gladly be less strong if it could be accomplished without ageneral deterioration. The point is, that a man with three or fourgenerations of gentle-folk behind him, can keep in a state of glowinghealth at the expense of about one-fifth the physical energy that Iburn--who come from rough men of mighty outdoor labors."
This was very reasonable, except that he seemed far removed in naturefrom the men of boats and beaches. She had dared to glance into his faceas he spoke, and found an impression from the diamond hardness of hiseyes, entirely different from that which came through listening merely.But for this glance, it never would have occurred to her, that herquestions had stretched his faculties to the slightest tension. Shewould have arisen to go now, but he resumed:
"I cannot bear to have you think that my energies are directed entirelyin the interests of lifting the standards of health, Miss Linster.Really, this is but a small part of preparation. It was only because Ifelt you ready for the important truths--that I regretted your absenceafter the first night. Do you know that we live in the time of aspiritual high-tide? It is clear to me that the whole race is liftingwith a wonderful inner animation. In the next quarter of a century greatmystic voices shall be heard. And there shall be One above all.... Itell you people are breaking down under the tyranny of their materialpossessions. After desire--comes the burden of holding. We areapproaching the great _ennui_ which Carlyle prophesied. There is nolonger a gospel of materialism. The great English and German teacherswhose work was regarded as supreme philosophy by the people ten yearsago, are shown to be pitiful failures in our colleges to-day--or atbest, specialists of one particular stage of evolution, who made themistake of preaching that their little division in the great cosmic linewas the whole road. Materialism died out of Germany a few yearsago--with a great shock of suicide. The mystics are teaching her now. Iassure you the dawn is breaking for a great spiritual day such as theworld has never seen. Soon a great light shall cover the nations andevil shall crawl into the holes of the earth where it is dark.... Thereis shortly to be born into the world--a glorious Child. While He isgrowing to celestial manhood--New Voices shall rise here and everywherepreparing the way. One of these New Voices--one of the very least ofthese--is Bellingham to whom you listen so impatiently."
Every venture into the occult had whispered this Child-promise inPaula's ears. There was such a concerted understanding of thisrevelation among the cults, that the thought had come to her thatperhaps this was a delusion of every age. Yet she had seen a Hindurecord dated a hundred years before, prophesying the birth of a Supermanin the early years of the Twentieth Century. There was scarcely adivision among the astrologers on this one point. She had even beenconscious in the solitudes of her own life of a certain mysticconfidence of such a fulfillment.... She dared not look intoBellingham's face at such a moment. The ghastly phase of the wholematter was to hear this prophecy repeated by one to whom the illustriousprospect (if he were, as she had believed) could become only an awfulillumination of the hell to which he was condemned. It was--onlyunspeakably worse--like hearing a parrot croak, "Feed our souls with thebread of life!..." Paula stirred in her seat, and Charter's letterdropped from the book in her lap. She seized it with a rush of gratefulemotion. It was a stanchion in her mind now filled with turbulence.
"There never was a time when woman's intelligence was so eager andrational; never a time," Bellingham went on, "when men were so tired ofmetals and meals and miles. The groan for the Absolutely New, for theutmost in sense and the weirdest of sensations, for speed to coverdistances and to overcome every obstacle, even thin air--all theseexpress the great weariness of the flesh and make clear to the propheticunderstanding that man is nearing the end of his lessons in threedimensions and five senses. There is a stirring of the spirit-captive inthe worn mesh of the body."
The woman traced her name with her forefinger upon the cover of the bookin her lap; again and again, "Paula--Paula--Paula." It was a habit shehad not remembered for years. As a little girl when she fought againstbeing persuaded contrary to her will, she would hold herself in handthus, by wriggling "Paula" anywhere. All that Bellingham said wasartfully calculated to inspire her with hope and joy in the world. Somarvelously were the words designed to carry her high in happiness, thatthere was a corresponding tension of terror in remembering thatBellingham uttered them. Yet she would have felt like a lump of clay hadshe not told him:
"What you say is very wonderful to me."
"And it is the women who are most sensitive to the Light--women who arealready unfolding in the rays, yet so far-flung and dim." Bellingham'svoice was a quick emotionless monotone. "Perhaps you have noted thegreat amalgamation of clubs and classes of women which each year turnsits power to more direct effort and valuable study. Another thing, letthe word Genius be whispered about any child or youth, and he becomes atonce the darling of rich matrons. What does this mean--this desire ofwoman to bring out the latent powers of a stranger's child? This veiled,beautiful quality is the surest sign of all. It is the spirit ofRebecca--which, even in the grief for her own dead babe, turnsthrillingly to mother a wayfarer's Starry Child. Verily, when a womanbegins to dream about bringing prophets into the world--the giants ofthose other days are close to her, crowding closer, eager to be bornagain."
Paula turned to him and arose. His face was not kindled. It was as if hewere an actor reading lines to memorize, not yet trying to simulate thecontained emotions. There is a glow of countenance where finethought-force is in action, but Bellingham's face was not lit with t
heexpiration of mind-energy, though his eyes glittered with set, bird-likebrightness.
"I must hurry away now," she told him hastily. "I must think upon whatyou have said."
"I truly wish," he added softly, and with a kindness she felt, becauseher eyes were turned from him, "that you would join one of my wiserclasses. You would be an inspiration. Besides, the little things thathave been given me to tell--should be known by the very few who havereached your degree of evolution."
"Thank you," she faltered. "I must think."
"Good-by, Miss Linster."
Reaching the street in front of her apartment house, she turned just intime to see him disappear among the trees. He strode forward as if thiswere his world, and his days had been a continuous pageant ofvictories.... Her rooms were all cleared of disorder, her mind refreshedand stimulated.... That night between eleven and twelve she was writingto Charter. There were a half dozen penned pages before her, and a smileon her lips. She poured out a full heart to the big Western figure ofcleanliness and strength--wrote to the man she wanted him to be.... Theday had been strange and expanding. She had suffered no evil. Thethoughts remaining with her from the talk in the Park were large withsignificance, and they had cleared slowly from the murkiness of theirsource. These, and the ideal of manhood she was building out ofCharter's book and letter and Reifferscheid's little sketch of him, hadmade the hours rich with healing. She was tired but steady-nerved as shewrote.... There was a faint tapping at her hall-door.