The Bright Messenger

and from a man named Mason, a geologist, I receive

yet not part of me; my feet, which love the touch of earth and yearn for it, are cased in dead dried skin called leather; even my head and hair, which crave the sun and wind, ar

y on my body. It was a bed. Slabs of transparent stuff kept out the living sunshine for which I hungered; thick solid walls shut off the wind; no stars or moon showed overhead, because an enormous lid hid every bi

ed surroundings. My heart beat quicker, a flash of thin joy came up in me. I had seen something similar before somewhere; it reminded me, I mean, of something I had known elsewhere; though but a shabby, lifeless, clumsy copy of this other glorious thing. Though not real, it stirred this faint memory of reality, so that I caught at t

too. They were unsatisfied. For some minutes it puzzled me, then I understood. That was the word-unsatisfied. Ah, but I could alter that! I could comf

ressing it close inside my own great arms, and burying it all against my breast. I crushed it, but very gent

ere it should have been resilient and elastic as fresh turf; the per

, this bundle, this poor pitiful bundle, screamed and struggled to get free. It bit and scratched

upright like a young birch the wind sets free. The figure looked alive. The hair fell loose, untidily, the pu

I've helped you

eemed. Bells rang, as the figure rushed to the door and flung it open. It called aloud; similar, though quite lifeless figures came in answer and filled the room. A doctor-Devonham, they called him-followed them. I was most carefully examined in a

place to Fillery, w

I spoke

I told him. "She is so starved. I was

witching, and in his eyes-ah, his eyes had more of the sun in them-a f

the Power I must own as Master and creator of my bein

t the least desire to move was in me luckily. I say "luckily," because, had I wished it, I could have flung them through the roof, blown dow

The lost touch was now restored. But, luckily, as I said, there was no desire in me to set free these other figures, to help them in any way, after the reception my first kindly effort had experienced. I lay quite still, held by these four grotesque and puny mechanisms. The comely

ittle. The four faces over me made odd grimaces, tightening their lips, and

. We understood one another. And, with a smile at me, he left the room, saying he would come back a

s were happiness in me. Upon free leaping rhythms I careered with an exhilarating rush of liberty; all about space I soared and sank; I was picked up, flung far, riding the crest of immense waves of orderly vibration that delighted me. I let myself go a bit, let my voice out, I mean. No effort accompanied my singing. It was automatic,

e?" observed one of t

ost anything they

Opera i

lift the roof off presently. We'd bett

alled it humming only, they had gradually let go of me, and were now sitting down on my bed and starin

r?" asked the one who had spoken fir

e the scratching of a pin after th

"I've got a sister at the Halls," he explained. "She'd make a hit with that kind o

d faces. I lay and listened to their talk.

it," said one. "But, I c

it's the stuff,"

ne in a more respectful tone. His face looked quite polite. The lips stretched, showing yellow teeth. It was his smile. But his eyes were a li

'm in it. It's all about me. It nev

eemed greatl

always used to say, but we laughed at him. He was a composer by trade. Oh, his stuff was printed too. Of course," he added, "there's musical talent in the family," as though that expla

ction of the closed door. He patted the air with his open palm, slowly,

of quiet flame in palest gold flared shimmering through the sound, while winds that were full of hurricanes and cyclones swept down to lift the fire and dance with it in spirals. The perfume of great f

rt I came back, came down, as it were, and saw the funny little faces staring at me with opened eyes and mouths, and yellow teeth, pale gums, their skins gone whitish, their figures rigid with their tense emotion. They were so p

eemed to relieve him a bit," they explained

expressions of puzzled thanks and interest. The door closed behind them. The doctor seated himself beside me and took my hand. I liked his touch.

ning the music. "I used to have it all. It

ou really need it." He gazed at me steadily for a minute, then said in his quiet voic

hing in me I could not get at quite. I could not reach

cted the name with a sense of liberty, also with great winds and pools of fire, with gre

ked. "He looked after you for twenty years. He gave his life for yo

gone-gon

s de

erence to my father and mother left me cold. "I can easily catch him up. When I move with my wind and fire, the fastest t

that now. You can always catch him up when the t

inkling chatter wearied me. It was like trickling wind. I wanted the flood of hurricanes,

r you, afraid for others too. He kept you in the woods and mountains where, as he believed, you could alone express yourself and so be happy. A hundred tim

my mind, but nothing I could hold and seize. The money

. Then, as you grew up, he realized his mistake. Instead of keeping you away from life, he ought to have introduced you to it and explained it-as I and Devo

pleasure, I suppose. It pleased and soothed him possibly. Yet I remembered every syll

he knew, was in sight. While the power was still strong in him, therefore, he did the only thing left to him to do. He used his great powers. He used s

comely figure glanc

ty stirred in me again as I saw her eager, hungry and unsatisfied little eyes. "Call h

re, a flash of fire flitting through his eyes. The fire made me like and trust him; the twitchin

mustn't," and then laughed outrig

sing the terms the figures

per times and places. The consent of the other party always is involved,"

told him this. He laughed still more. Caught by the sound-it was just like wind passing among tall grasses on a

the heart too easily, too quickly. You must learn to hide your knowledge." The laughter which ran with the words then

expression is the purpo

is," he agreed

ometime

n involves another in pain

ean. I have to know first wh

tter. It was a game. And

I listened with an effort; this tinkling soon wearied me; I could not think long or much; my way, it seemed, was fee

. We stared at each other a momen

"it certainly is. Bot

ery feet, passing through my whole being. He lo

. "This is not liberty. And why

only for one," he said, "and so,

own, but now, it seemed, forgotten, was far beyond such a foolish little game. We had lived without such tiny tricks.

whistling thinly, "and it won't take you long to become quite civilized at this rate,

ully in their depths somewhere that tiny cherished flame I loved. "Your ways ar

them small, but far from simple. You may f

is eyes a moment. "He entrusted you to me. Your m

thm in me that I rather liked, and that tired me less than the ot

eings, of men and

omely

Together we ma

iviliz

arning, growing, all its members living f

of the majority was simply to keep alive at all. It was an ugly little system he described. Much I did not hear, because my thinking powers gave out. Some of it gave me an awful feeling he called pain. The confusion and imperfection seemed beyond repair, even

do they see that it is u

" he he

, taking his unknown wo

als it from them. To the best

e Comel

"Always remember that. It's sacred." He

d." Again we stared for some minutes. "Yet al

e a moment without answering. It caught me away. I am no

where civilization-so f

ed. He told me to remember what he had said, and to lie down and rest.

did not look at me. Dr. Fillery began again his little tinkling. "... wishes to apologize to you most sincerely, nurse, for his mistake. H

n it already. And usually he's as good as gold and perfectly q

ctor positively. "He has promised me

teeth. I saw the hint of soft fire in her poor pitiful e

ch you," I said instantly. "

s, but her eyes were lowered, though she smiled a little, and her little cheeks grew co

me," said Dr. Fille

, clever hands, sometimes touching my cheek on purpose as she did so. "I will not worshi

outh, his laughter, and his shining eyes were gone. I was aware that the Comely One remained, doing all manner of little things about me and my bed, unnecessary things, but my pity and my worship were not asked, so I forgot her. My thinking had wearied me, and my feeling was no

thms, but only for a second and very faintl

r, as she left the room with a fling of her little

om. It is hard to tell about, but that dear Fillery knows, I am sure, exactly what I know, though he has for

e did I go, what did I see and f

t-I can tell him that. I

nsions. The space I am in here allows only little rhythms; they are coarse and slow and heavy, and beat against confining walls as it were, are thrown back, cross and recross each other, so

e squeezing hurts. Yet neither can I make them bigger

nd upon the point of a pin, for instance, and examine them through a magnifying-glass? The Sun remains. What I experience, really, when I go off into my own freedom is release. My rhy

rate little individualities, human beings each working on his own, for his own, and against all the others-escape from this stifling tangle into the sweep of my big rhyt

fort, however. That

I can draw upon them as they can draw upon me. We do draw on

le of criss-cross, tiny rhythms which confuse and obliterate the very thing he wants to know. Yet the Sun I never forget-father of fire and wind. My companions are lost temporarily. I am shut off from them. It seems I cannot hav

hing I can underst

ers, as great waves of heat or sound might be launched upon an ant-heap. I used to try to force and project my vast rhythms into their tiny ones, hoping to make these latter swell and rise and grow-but never with success. Though a few members, here and there, felt them and struggled to obey and u

They were of extraordinary beauty. Could they only have been increased, the Race that knew and used them must have cha

must have carried themselves and me towards stil

a long time, instead of like me for seconds only, will understand what I mea

k?" he as

es. Obstacles, indeed, helped our power and made it greater, for everything feeds fire and opposition adds to the pressure of wind. Our main activity was to make perfect forms. We were form-builders. Apart from this, our "work" was

ng things, even behind inanimate things like trees and stones and flowers. Your big rhythms, as you call th

one of the struggling members who was aware of the big rhythms and who would be put away in little pieces later by the rest. It made me pitiful. "Forget

and he had an attack of that irritation which, he says, i

It was happy and enthusiastic. I saw that laughter made his rhythms bigger

tions so swiftly. Yet it is all new to you." His voice and face made me wish to stroke and help him, he was so

ies. Your language is block letters because your self-expression, as you call it, is so limited. I

ough no further questions came. "Well," he went on presently, while I lay and watched the pale fire slip in tiny waves about his eyes, "remember this: since

not always easy. I get so cramped

, cannot feed you," he said. "The sense

d fixed his eyes on my face.

f it. It's private; that is, I have no right to show it to others, but as no one would understand it-

me laugh-it was so laborious and slow. The writing I knew best, of course, lay all over and inside the earth and skies. The privacy

reading it," I said. "I take in a

hat I guessed his purpose, and we laughed together a moment. "When you tire of listening," he said, "just tell me and I'll paus

I can't be sure," he added. "One of-er-my patients wrote it, someone wh

read in his cle

ain it. The failure of others makes my work more hard, but my own purposes never fail, I am

ow, and he, dear Fillery, did not bid me stop, but only tightened his grasp

o communication, satisfied with the life that i

as children. All they do must be shouted abo

elong to us. We do not want that hindrance, that opposition which rouses an undesirable consciousness; for without that oppos

wn, over the top of his paper, so that I kept my music back with a great effort

our and waves of music; the phrases built little spirals, as it were, between two states. Of these two states, I now divined, he understood one perfectly-his own, and the other-mine-partia

ow they would turn white and run if they could he

see the laughter running about beneath the tight

ll that sustained and conditioned him. The wise are silent, the foolish speak, and the children are thus

bit. I felt the tremble of his excitement run into my wrist an

n evolving entity. Our Work had told. We had built his form and processes so faith

as I heard. Those small but per

er it. At the same time Fillery let go my hand, and the little bridge was snapped. I felt what he called pain. It passed at once. I found his hand again, but the bridge was not rebu

had not interrupted, but I fo

He had left the room, though I had

a few hours ago, that I seized the Comely One and trie

self-to understand how difficult it is to answer his

ning cry. "Yet other beings cannot help us; t

rhythms my nature expressed itself apparently. I rose, seeking my lost companions. They-the Devonham and his busy little figures-called it sleep. It may be "sleep." But I find there what I