Katharine flushed under his glance and question.

"A person cannot be said to know very much about mathematics unless he is able to demonstrate mathematical problems," she observed, after a moment of hesitation.

"I see; you mean that anyone who acquires the principles of Christian Science can demonstrate it by healing the sick?"

"Yes. It is the Christ-science, or the Science of Christianity, as demonstrated and taught by Jesus, who said, 'The works that I do shall ye do also if ye believe in Me.' So anyone who conscientiously investigates it, from an honest desire to know the Truth, will grow into the practice of it."

"Miss Minturn, do you believe that you could help Dorothy?"

earnestly inquired Phillip Stanley.

"I know that she could be helped under right conditions; and I wish--I feel sure that my mother's understanding is sufficient to meet the case," she thoughtfully returned.

"'Under right conditions,' what do you mean by that?"

"Dorothy would have to be willing to be treated, and the consent of Prof. and Mrs. Seabrook would also be necessary."

"Then nothing could be done for her by your method except under those conditions?" and Dr. Stanley's tone conveyed a sense of disappointment.

"No; it would not be right--it would be interfering where one would have no authority to intrude."

"But it would be doing good; that is always justifiable, is it not? even if the child could be given but one night's peaceful rest to prove its efficacy."

"Some physicians believe in hypnotism; do you?" Katherine inquired, with apparent irrelevancy.

"Well, under certain circ.u.mstances, it might be employed to advantage, but, as a rule, I am opposed to it."

"We utterly repudiate it as a very dangerous and demoralizing practice; but, Dr. Stanley, would you think it right, under any circ.u.mstances, for a person to hypnotize you without your consent?"

"Indeed I would not; it would be a dastardly act," emphatically declared the physician.

"On the same principle, Christian Scientists feel that they have no right to treat, or try to influence anyone mentally, even to do good, without permission," Katherine explained, as she arose, thinking, perhaps, enough had been said on the subject.

"Just one moment, please, Miss Minturn," said the gentleman, detaining her. "There is one thing more I would like to speak of.

Will you kindly look me directly in the eyes?" Somewhat surprised, Katherine turned her glance upon his and looked searchingly into those fine eyes so deeply blue, but flushing as she did so.

"Can you detect any difference in them?" he questioned.

"No, I cannot," she said, and knowing now why he had asked it, for she remembered what Miss Reynolds had told her.

"Well, there is," he affirmed, "for I am blind in my left eye, although scarcely anyone would observe it; at least I can only discern light from darkness. It was caused by an accident when I was a child. Do you believe, Miss Minturn, that normal sight could be restored to that eye?"

"I know that it could," Katherine began.

"Yes, of course, you know that G.o.d has power to restore it," her companion interposed; "but do you believe any pract.i.tioner would take my case and encourage me to hope for such a result?"

"a.s.suredly," said the girl, with unwavering confidence.

"Truly, your faith is unbounded," Phillip Stanley observed, with a smile in which there was a glimmer of skepticism. "I wish it could find an echo in my own heart, for I would give a great deal for so priceless a boon. But where do your pract.i.tioners go to learn their method?"

"To our text-book, 'Science and Health.' It--"

"That little leather-covered book I used to see you reading on shipboard?"

"Yes; it contains the whole of Christian Science, and, Dr.

Stanley"--with a significant nod--"he who will may read."

"I understand"--with a responsive laugh--"one has to put forth individual effort in order to acquire valuable knowledge. Pray pardon me for detaining you so long, and possibly I may ask to talk with you further after I have consulted my sister and her husband. Really, Miss Minturn"--he interposed in a deprecatory tone and flushing with a sense of the incongruity of his position- -"I am afraid I am rather faithless, but something impels me to suggest that a trial be given the Science treatment before the adoption of severe measures. Good-afternoon, and thank you for your courtesy and patience."

He shook hands cordially with her, then bowed himself away.

CHAPTER XII.

PROF. SEABROOK'S ULTIMATUM--AND BROKEN RULES.

Dr. Stanley, after sitting a while with Dorothy, to watch the effect of a remedy given to relieve her suffering, went directly back to the city, wearing a very thoughtful face.

Upon reaching his office, and finding no one awaiting him, he picked up a book from his desk and went out again, directing his steps towards the public library.

Arriving there, he searched the catalogue and, at length, finding the t.i.tle he desired, wrote the number on his card and presented his book to be exchanged.

When the wished-for volume was handed to him he opened the cover and glanced at the t.i.tle page, reading therefrom, "Science and Health, with Key to the Scriptures, by Mary Baker G. Eddy." A peculiar smile, in which there may have been a trace of self- contempt, wreathed his lips as he slipped it under his arm and then made his way from the building.

He stopped at a cafe near by and partook of a light meal, after which he returned to his office and read from his book as long as daylight lasted, without once laying it aside. Then, lighting a student lamp, he became absorbed again, reading on until the clock struck ten.

"There is much I do not understand! much I cannot grasp!" he exclaimed, a note of impatience in his voice, and the perplexing work was tossed somewhat irreverently upon the table. "It so radically reverses preconceived ideas and opinions; it seems so abstruse, vague and intangible, it irritates me. And yet, in the light of what Mrs. Minturn and her daughter have told me, I believe I have caught a glimpse, here and there, of the meaning of some of its statements. It is like trying to march through a tangled wilderness," he continued, as he picked up the book again and slowly slipped the leaves through his fingers; "but I'll read the thing through, now that I have begun it, though I have a suspicion that I shall only get deeper into an impenetrable thicket."

While Phillip Stanley was thus engaged, Mrs. Seabrook was earnestly discussing the same subject with her husband. She related to him her recent conversation with her brother, also her suspicions regarding what had so almost miraculously banished Miss Reynolds' severe malady, and repeated some things which she had overheard during her brother's interview with Katherine.

Prof. Seabrook, usually so considerate and tender in all his relations with his dear ones--such a gentle man in every sense of the word--sat listening with averted face and brow heavily overcast, his finely chiseled lips compressed into an obstinate, rigid line.

"William, do let us give it a trial; it certainly could do no harm, and it might give Dorrie some relief from the pain," pleaded his wife, but studying the unsympathetic face opposite her with mingled anxiety and surprise.

There was an awkward silence when she concluded; but at length her companion observed, in a repressed tone:

"Emelie, Phillip and I have already discussed this subject."

"I know; he has told me, Will; but I thought, perhaps, after you had given the matter more consideration, in view of these recent developments, you might think more favorably of it," Mrs. Seabrook eagerly interposed.

"But I do not think more favorably of it," was the cold response.

"But why? What possible objection can you have to giving the method a trial?" queried Mrs. Seabrook and flushing with momentary indignation at his intolerant att.i.tude. "You have eagerly welcomed and tried everything that numerous physicians have suggested and which, after years of patient experimenting, have done absolutely no good. I cannot understand why you should be so obstinately opposed to what anyone can see, can do no possible harm, even if no permanent relief is derived from it."

"I am not so sure that 'no harm' would result from it," the professor observed, in an inflexible voice.

"I wish you would explain what you mean, Will, and not hold yourself so obscurely aloof from the subject," returned his wife, with unusual spirit and an unaccustomed spark in her mild eyes. "I am not a child, to be merely told that a thing is not good for me, and consequently cannot have it. If there is a good and sufficient reason why Dorothy shall not have Christian Science treatment, I would like to know what it is. For eight years I, as well as my child, have been a martyr in a chamber of torture, and my burden is growing heavier than I can bear."