Impressed,
Thomas nodded. "How did—you— "
But
the man merely waved away his half-completed question and again struck a pose
by the chair. "When a being is alternating expansion and contraction, he
is energy," he announced.
Thomas
nodded.
"A
completely expanded being is space," Dr. Graham went on, fondling the
wand, feeling of the etched mythical faces, like a blind man. "Since
expansion is permeative, we can be in the same space with one or more other
expanded beings. In fact, it is possible for all the entities in the universe
to be one space. Do I make myself clear?"
Before
the glittering man and the overpowering odor and the parade of words, Thomas
felt dull. "I'm—sorry. Dr. Graham," he murmured.
But
the man brushed aside his apology. "No need," he pronounced. "You
are an invalid, suffering a terrible disease. I am here to help you."
There
was such compassion, such largess and understanding in the man's voice and
attitude, that Thomas felt doubly weakened, suffered a slight tremor as though
he were an invalid. And when Dr. Graham swept majestically around to where he
stood and brought his sun and sweet odor with him and put his arm around
Thomas' shoulder and said in the richest of voices, "Please relax. Lord
Eden, because nothing is secret from me and no one is abandoned," Thomas
actually found himself leaning into the man, permitting himself to be guided to
a straight chair near the center of the room where he sat heavily, almost
regretful when the man's arm departed his shoulder.
He
closed his eyes in this new and enjoyable weakness. He could sense the man's
presence still before him, like a fire in December. He opened his eyes to the
shifting kaleidoscope of sun, to savor in a flash of perception that this was
no ordinary mortal standing before him.
"I
am in pain," he murmured obligingly, hungry for sympathy as well as
solution.
"Of
course you are," Dr. Graham purred, lifting the wand with the gold
medallion and holding it directly before Thomas' eyes. "Do you see these
faces?" he inquired.
"I
see," murmured Thomas, studying the circular arrangement, spying a Medusa
head, a homed image, a sea serpent, and a cyclops.
"Then
study them closely and listen as I speak."
Thomas
obeyed, although obedience had little to do with it. He wanted nothing else but
to sit and listen to the magical voice, study the curious faces which all
seemed to be looking at him, and breathe deeply of the sweet odor.
As
Dr. Graham spoke, his voice formed individual words and pushed them forward
like separate jewels, a necklace of words, settling pleasantly on Thomas'
hearing. "Each of us," Dr. Graham began, "is the same kind of
being. You, me, the source of your agony above, each is capable of outflowing
attention and awareness, and each is capable of withdrawing it. And that is all
we need to do—give full permission, loving attention, to absolutely anything
that we see in our minds, in our bodies, in the bodies of others."
A
discernible peace began to settle over Thomas. The Medusa head was smiling at
him.
Graham
went on. "Expansion in love is an action that is available to every being
in the universe. A willing awareness will take us to paradise and make us free.
Nothing else controls our Fate. Whatever you are doing, love yourself for doing
it."
Thomas
had never heard such words. Now the cyclops was smiling at him.
"And
whatever you are thinking, love yourself for thinking it. Love is the only
dimension that needs to be changed. If you are not sure how it feels to be
loving, love yourself for not being sure of how it feels to be loving. . . .
The
wondrous voice was rising in a crescendo, the jewel-like words exploding all
about.
"There
is nothing on earth," Dr. Graham proclaimed at fever pitch, "more
important than the love which conscious beings feel toward each other. No
matter what your spiritual condition is, no matter where you find yourself in
the universe, your obligation is always the same, to love, to love openly and
freely, with your entire body, to avail yourself of the infinite experience of
love, to love, to love with the blessing of the cosmos, the transcendence of
the soul, to love, to love, to love—"
As
the words beat against Thomas, he bowed his head as though under assault, but
what a magnificent assault, a fiery presence of sun and heat standing before
him, every mythical creature's face smiling at him, the sweet perfume filling
his nostrils, the command still coming, "—to love, to love, to love."
The
voice ceased. He was aware of Dr. Graham moving away from him. He mourned the
loss, though the message was still with him. "Dear God," he murmured
hoarsely.
"God
has nothing to do with it," said Dr. Graham, standing a distance away.
"Here is the power." And he held up the golden medallion.
Thomas
gazed at the remarkable man. "Where do you come from Dr. Graham?" he
asked.
"From
the Goddess of Earth," he replied without hesitation. He pocketed the
golden wand and Thomas was fearful he was preparing to take his leave.
"No, don't go," he begged. "I must talk with you."
But
Dr. Graham shook his head. "I have clients waiting," he said wearily.
"I must go. The paths are many and dark and my time is limited. Shortly I
will be called to rejoin the Goddess of Earth and I must give a good
accounting."
Seeing
that he could not postpone the man's departure, Thomas stepped forward. "I
need your help," he said.
Dr.
Graham agreed, "You do indeed."
"The
bed," Thomas went on, "the Celestial Bed-"
The
man smiled, a most gratifying warmth. "It has been reserved for you for
centuries," he intoned. "It was written during the last Ice Age that
on tomorrow evening you and the young lady would occupy it—together."
Overcome,
Thomas could only stutter. "I—don't—understand— "
"It's
not necessary that you understand," Dr. Graham corrected him, lifting his
eyes as though to the heavenly host. "All that's necessary is that you
love."
The
heat from that dazzling voice encompassed him. "Her objections will
crumble like sand on a beach," Dr. Graham promised. "Tomorrow evening
you will direct your carriage to the rear of my house on Pall Mall, in the
company of the young lady, of course. The Goddess of Health will greet you at
the door and escort you to the Celestial Chamber. You will be provided with the
Elixir of Life, and within moments the Celestial Bed will beckon to both of
you. She will disrobe first and unless you move with haste, she will break her
own maidenhead to permit you easeful access to the temple of her body."
Thomas
clung to the table. "She will not—object?" he begged, still seeking
reassurance.
Dr.
Graham shook his head as though offended by the question. "The Celestial
Bed rests on four Cosmic legs. Their energy source is the center of the
universe. No mere human, not even a virgin, has the power to resist. She will
be yours tomorrow evening. Lord Eden. I swear it."
In
a state of reverence, Thomas still clung heavily to the table. With deep regret
he saw the sunburst move toward the door. "Must you go?" he asked.
The
voice was sonorous and sad. "The world is a dark place. Lord Eden. My lamp
alone can light the way."
"I
must see you again," he declared, starting forward.
"And
you shall," Dr. Graham soothed. "Tomorrow evening, if you wish,
before you enter the Celestial Chamber, you may both partake of my earth bath
and lecture, a magical health treatment which restores your limbs to the
condition of youth."
"Yes,
yes," Thomas replied. "All of it. I must have all of it!"
As
the sunburst was slipping out of the door, taking its golden rays, the good
doctor called back, "Bring a purse of two thousand guineas, if you will."
Without
hesitation, Thomas agreed, "Of course, of course!"
As
the last fragment of golden satin faded from his view, Thomas fought back an
impulse to run after him. But at the same time he felt an urge to remain
silent, to hold himself still, lest the mood break and splinter about him like
fragile glass.
"Oh,
God," he groaned. Tomorrow night—cosmic legs which derive their strength
from the center of the universe!
Hope
was set in motion. The young girl sleeping upstairs was on the verge of being
completely his. He stared upward at the beamed ceiling, as though trying to see
through it, directly into her chamber. In what position did she sleep? Clothed
or naked?
"On
the morrow," a voice soothed. "Be patient until tomorrow!"
She
breakfasted alone in her third-floor apartments, though she ate little , her
anticipation of the day's events blunted by the residue of nightmares.
Then
she dressed herself in a simple pale blue gown, affixed a matching bonnet to
her head, still amazed by the open door through which the old serving woman had
passed all morning. She paused to study its openness, going back in her mind to
the nightmare, hearing in the silence of morning William's cries as she'd heard
them all through the night.
Quickly
she pushed the outrageous dream away. Night was over. The man was waiting for
her downstairs. As for William, he was undoubtedly well, possibly wed to some
French lady, his life complete and happy. Otherwise she would surely have
heard.
Thus
she said good-bye to the fossil of William Pitch that lay in her heart and
straightened her shoulders and tightened the pale blue satin streamers of her
bonnet and walked slowly down the stairs.
At
the bottom of the steps she saw her brother, Russell, outlandishly clad in
canary yellow. Beyond him, looking as weary as she felt, she saw Thomas Eden,
dressed somberly in dark gray, his eyes heavy from lack of sleep, though
lightening as they caught sight of her.
"Milady."
He smiled, bowing low. After the bow, she was aware of his eyes making a slow
journey over the gown, returning to her face with what appeared to be an
expression of gratitude. "A Devon sea lavender come to life," he
pronounced. "What a happy choice, that gown. I selected it myself, seeing
you in it."
She
wished she'd chosen the plain brown one instead. It had suited her mood upon
awakening. But she was forced to admit that even she had hopes for the day. The
night before, the man's obvious repentance had moved her. Perhaps abroad with
him in sunlight, she could talk her way into complete freedom. What she would
do with it, or where she would go, she had no idea.
As
he extended his hand to her, she sidestepped it and led the way through the
arched door to the pavement, where at midmorning the traffic of Oxford Road was
bustling. The sights and sound of people walking freely about moved her. She
had wanted to walk, and was therefore disappointed when he caught up with her
and directed her toward the waiting carriage.
Russell,
smiling slyly as though he knew something she didn't, held the door for her.
She looked up at Thomas. "Must we ride?" she asked. "After
imprisonment, I long for exercise."
She
saw a discernible cloud cross his face at her mention of imprisonment. But
kindly he explained, "The distances are too great We'll go from point to
point by carriage, then walk about when we get there."
She
started again to protest, but decided against it. The day would be long enough
as it was. It would not be of benefit to either one of them to start on a note
of discord.
Disregarding
his offer of help, she reached for the hand support and lifted herself into the
carriage's interior. She remembered the night over a month ago when she'd sat
in the same comer and had looked despairingly
out
at the night.