Tears Wiped Away at the Hotel Ansonia

Early one morning in April 1912, Howard Colby Ives went to the Hotel Ansonia in New York, where rooms had been reserved for ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. From across a crowded room the Master beckoned to him, took his hand, sent the others out and closed the door, so that Ives was alone with Him. Ives recalled:

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> Then we sat in the two chairs by the window: knee to knee, eye to eye. At last He looked right into me. It was the first time since our eyes had met with His first beckoning gesture that this had happened. And now nothing intervened between us and He looked at me. He looked at me! It seemed as though never before had anyone really seen me.

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I felt a sense of gladness that I at last was at home, and that one who knew me utterly, my Father, in truth, was alone with me. As He looked such play of thought found reflection in His face, that if He had talked an hour not nearly so much could have been said. A little surprise, perhaps, followed swiftly by such sympathy, such understanding, such overwhelming love—it was as if His very being opened to receive me.

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With that the heart within me melted and the tears flowed. I did not weep, in any ordinary sense. There was no breaking up of feature. It was as if a long-pent stream was at last undammed. Unheeded, as I looked at Him, they flowed. He put His two thumbs to my eyes while He wiped the tears from my face; admonishing me not to cry, that one must always be happy. And He laughed. Such a ringing, boyish laugh.

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It was as though He had discovered the most delightful joke imaginable: a divine joke which only He could appreciate. I could not speak. We both sat perfectly silent for what seemed a long while, and gradually a great peace came to me. Then ‘Abdu’l-Bahá placed His hand upon my breast saying that it was the heart that speaks.

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