forehead between the arched dark brows, a gentle touch like a benediction, yet it was also like an electric charge, a quick shimmer of light through her head.
“You must,” he said calmly, almost conversationally, “hold fast to your course, with faith, for you may be badly buffeted in the tempest that I fear is brewing.”
Celia lifted her brows and would have questioned further, but Sue had caught Akananda’s last words and twisted around to say archly, “Tempest? Dr. Akananda. You Hindu gentlemen are awfully poetical, I’ve always heard so. Back in Kaintucky we wouldn’t think this sky looked like a storm comin’.”
“I suppose not, my child.” Akananda’s eyes held an indulgent twinkle. “Yet there are many kinds of storms. Outside in nature; inside in the soul.”
Sue giggled and pouted. “You’re positively bafflin’, Doctor. I’ve always wanted to meet one of you, after Jack—that’s my brother—went all committed to Maharishi and kept doing Yoga an’ meditations. Jack was a real hippie for a while,” she explained. “Mom and Dad were horrified. But, I guess he’s got over it. He’s cut his hair, stopped smoking pot, and is dating a real nice girl.”
“That is splendid,” said Akananda smiling. Sue turned around to answer some comment of Igor’s and the Hindu glanced at Celia. “Your cousin is charming and very young. She’s also fortunate. I believe that for her this life will be easy.”
“Do you predict futures?” asked Celia with a hint of sarcasm. She had not liked the implied warning in Akananda’s speech about tempests, especially as the man attracted her. There came from him a radiation, an effect of light around him. And
that’s
idiotic, too, she thought.
“I’m not a fortuneteller,” Akananda answered quietly. “But through training and discipline I receive more impressions than most people can. Yes, you’re right in thinking that I was trying to prepare you for a grave ordeal. That much is permitted. I am also permitted, even commanded, to help you as best I can. Though we must all pay our Karmic debts, the Divinity which is above Karma is ever merciful; through God’s help and your own actions you
may
be able to reduce a sword-thrust to a pin-prick. It depends.”
Celia stared through the open window where the rose-studded hedgerows and the buttercup fields slipped by. She had not been really listening but one word startled her.
“God . . .?” she said hesitantly. “I used to believe in Him when I was very little, now He’s just what somebody said, just an oblong gray blur. I had a peculiar religious upbringing.” She turned to Akananda, yet spoke half to herself, “A year in a Catholic convent as a boarder when I was eleven, while Daddy was traveling on business around the world with Mother.”
“But your parents weren’t Roman Catholics?”
“Oh, no, but Mother’s best friend was, and they thought it a safe place to leave me. I was lonely and bored, really miserable . . . Before that,” she added ruefully, “I was a little Christian Scientist, because my governess was one. I went to Sunday school in Chicago. But the governess left. And Mother took up Theosophy. I devoured all the books she did, and was fascinated by them. But after Daddy died . . .”
“Your father had no interest in religions?”
“None whatsoever, he used to laugh at Mama and say he’d leave all that tomfoolery to the women, common horse sense was enough for him.”
“And you agree?”
“I think so,” Celia said. “As I grew up I got cynical. I’d see Mother enthusiastic and involved with charlatans. Numerologists and astrologists who charged five hundred dollars for a ‘reading’ which was so vague you could twist the meaning any way you wanted. And faith healers who couldn’t seem to heal themselves, and a Yogi in California who preached purity, sublimity and continence, and then tried to seduce me one day while Mother was out. It was
“You must,” he said calmly, almost conversationally, “hold fast to your course, with faith, for you may be badly buffeted in the tempest that I fear is brewing.”
Celia lifted her brows and would have questioned further, but Sue had caught Akananda’s last words and twisted around to say archly, “Tempest? Dr. Akananda. You Hindu gentlemen are awfully poetical, I’ve always heard so. Back in Kaintucky we wouldn’t think this sky looked like a storm comin’.”
“I suppose not, my child.” Akananda’s eyes held an indulgent twinkle. “Yet there are many kinds of storms. Outside in nature; inside in the soul.”
Sue giggled and pouted. “You’re positively bafflin’, Doctor. I’ve always wanted to meet one of you, after Jack—that’s my brother—went all committed to Maharishi and kept doing Yoga an’ meditations. Jack was a real hippie for a while,” she explained. “Mom and Dad were horrified. But, I guess he’s got over it. He’s cut his hair, stopped smoking pot, and is dating a real nice girl.”
“That is splendid,” said Akananda smiling. Sue turned around to answer some comment of Igor’s and the Hindu glanced at Celia. “Your cousin is charming and very young. She’s also fortunate. I believe that for her this life will be easy.”
“Do you predict futures?” asked Celia with a hint of sarcasm. She had not liked the implied warning in Akananda’s speech about tempests, especially as the man attracted her. There came from him a radiation, an effect of light around him. And
that’s
idiotic, too, she thought.
“I’m not a fortuneteller,” Akananda answered quietly. “But through training and discipline I receive more impressions than most people can. Yes, you’re right in thinking that I was trying to prepare you for a grave ordeal. That much is permitted. I am also permitted, even commanded, to help you as best I can. Though we must all pay our Karmic debts, the Divinity which is above Karma is ever merciful; through God’s help and your own actions you
may
be able to reduce a sword-thrust to a pin-prick. It depends.”
Celia stared through the open window where the rose-studded hedgerows and the buttercup fields slipped by. She had not been really listening but one word startled her.
“God . . .?” she said hesitantly. “I used to believe in Him when I was very little, now He’s just what somebody said, just an oblong gray blur. I had a peculiar religious upbringing.” She turned to Akananda, yet spoke half to herself, “A year in a Catholic convent as a boarder when I was eleven, while Daddy was traveling on business around the world with Mother.”
“But your parents weren’t Roman Catholics?”
“Oh, no, but Mother’s best friend was, and they thought it a safe place to leave me. I was lonely and bored, really miserable . . . Before that,” she added ruefully, “I was a little Christian Scientist, because my governess was one. I went to Sunday school in Chicago. But the governess left. And Mother took up Theosophy. I devoured all the books she did, and was fascinated by them. But after Daddy died . . .”
“Your father had no interest in religions?”
“None whatsoever, he used to laugh at Mama and say he’d leave all that tomfoolery to the women, common horse sense was enough for him.”
“And you agree?”
“I think so,” Celia said. “As I grew up I got cynical. I’d see Mother enthusiastic and involved with charlatans. Numerologists and astrologists who charged five hundred dollars for a ‘reading’ which was so vague you could twist the meaning any way you wanted. And faith healers who couldn’t seem to heal themselves, and a Yogi in California who preached purity, sublimity and continence, and then tried to seduce me one day while Mother was out. It was
Similar Books
