“Now, you hear me a minute, Mr. Alonzo Leffingwell—INEXPLICABLE mystic and all around D—P—of every old degree, you want to get right out of Kankakee and lose no time. The state of Illinois makes our city the center of only ordinary aberrations; it does not provide wards for such illuminated inanities as you at this minute have been explicating.
“I say, my friend, you go get some bars and lock yourself up. Go sink yourself in a tank of formaline and then will the tank to the scientific department of the institution. This, I say, would never be misunderstood by anybody who knew you. It would be a contribution to science, an aid to education, and an example to the young. And this would be the only good excuse you could ever give to society for having been on the top side of the earth.”
“Unhappy trifler, you will regret your selfishness,” murmured the occultist, less in anger than sorrow. “But I have done. I leave you to your destiny. I leave you to your own conscience. This will cost you cycles of expiation. You have forfeited your possibilities. Had you resigned her in accordance with the law, all had been well. But your persistence shall react upon your own head,—and now farewell. I leave you, to return no more,—at least not this afternoon. I shall seek the lady. It rests with her. If possible I shall save her from the sad error of marrying you. I shall save her from herself. I shall lift her up to ME, and in this wise I may perhaps save her from other and very disagreeable reincarnations.”
Bill Vanderhook picked his hat off the peg, carefully selected a big cigar, lighted it, took a whiff and then replied sardonically,—“Well, Mr. Dianzy Chooanzy, and suppose she won’t affin, what then?”
“Then, O, then,”—lisped Lonnie as he leaned upon the show-case as if for support,—“I shall be compelled to wait through several cycles, perhaps, until she has worked out the necessary karma and attained to ME.”
“But see here,” persisted Bill. “I thought that you gurus and gnanis and you astral fellows generally took the bachelor’s degree the very first inning. I thought you were clean off the market. I’ve always heard that matrimony was quite outside the mystic foul lines.”
“Right,”—answered Lonnie,—“that is, as you understand mysticism, marriage is forbidden, except a gentleman discovers his very own. And even then,”—and his voice quavered,—“he must not even get engaged until she who is his in primordial biogen shall attain to an equal illumination. This frequently postpones the happy day for ages.”
“Well, now, that’s a horse of another color,”—and Bill heaved a sigh of relief. “This is most likely one of those postponed cases. Anyway, I was solid up to last night, but if you don’t mind waiting a couple of thousand years I haven’t any objections,”—and the generous young druggist let fizz a glass of mineral water.
“Thanks, awfully,”—murmured Lonnie, but whether for the permission or the apollinaris was not quite clear. He sipped the sparkling water with suggestive mournfulness.
“Being chained to the material,” he added, “it is very possible she may even prefer you to ME. The fleshly veil which yet so thickly clothes her higher principles, may obscure ME to her inner consciousness; in which case I must temporarily resign her. I may not claim her for several brief earth lives yet. For all this I am fully prepared. And should she not cognize ME for what I AM, I shall hence to India, and there, by contemplation in the sacred cave I shall astralize. I shall return again, and keep watch over her.”