a think? Why
was this woman old, if spirit could do all these other things? Why
didn't she make herself beautiful? What was it she was doing now? Was
this hypnotism, mesmerism, she was practicing? He remembered where
Mrs. Eddy had especially said that these were not to be practiced--could
not be in Science. No, she was no doubt sincere. She looked it--talked
it. She believed in this beneficent spirit. Would it aid as the psalm
said? Would it heal this ache? Would it make him not want Suzanne ever
any more? Perhaps that was evil? Yes, no doubt it was. Still---- Perhaps
he had better fix his mind on the Lord's Prayer. Divinity could aid him
if it would. Certainly it could. No doubt of it. There was nothing
impossible to this vast force ruling the universe. Look at the
telephone, wireless telegraphy. How about the stars and sun? "He shall
give his angels charge over thee."

"Now," said Mrs. Johns, after some fifteen minutes of silent meditation
had passed and she opened her eyes smilingly--"we are going to see
whether we are not going to be better. We are going to feel better,
because we are going to do better, and because we are going to realize
that nothing can hurt an idea in God. All the rest is illusions. It
cannot hold us, for it is not real. Think good--God--and you are good.
Think evil and you are evil, but it has no reality outside your own
thought. Remember that." She talked to him as though he was a little
child.

He went out into the snowy night where the wind was whirling the snow in
picturesque whirls, buttoning his coat about him. The cars were running
up Broadway as usual. Taxicabs were scuttling by. There were people
forging their way through the snow, that ever-present company of a great
city. There were arc lights burning clearly blue through the flying
flakes. He wondered as he walked whether this would do him any good.
Mrs. Eddy insisted that all these were unreal, he thought--that mortal
mind had evolved something which was not in accord with spirit--mortal
mind "a liar and the father of it," he recalled that quotation. Could it
be so? Was evil unreal? Was misery only a belief? Could he come out of
his sense of fear and shame and once more face the world? He boarded a
car to go north. At Kingsbridge he made his way thoughtfully to his
room. How could life ever be restored to him as it had been? He was
really forty years of age. He sat down in his chair near his lamp and
took up his book, "Science an