“Well,” continued Father Waite, “that granted, we must likewise grant its creator to be infinite, must we not?”
“Certainly.”
“And that puts the creator out of the matter-class entirely. The creator must be––”
“Mind,” said Carmen, supplying the thought ever-present with her.
“I see no other conclusion,” said Father Waite. “But, that granted, a flood of deductions pours in that sends human beliefs and reasoning helter-skelter. For an infinite mind would eventually disintegrate if it were not perfect in every part.”
“Perhaps it is already disintegrating, and that’s what causes the evil in the world,” hazarded Haynerd.
“Utterly untenable, my friend,” put in Hitt. “For, granted an infinite mind, we must grant the concomitant fact that such a mind is of very necessity omnipotent, as well as perfect. What, then, could ever cause disintegration in it?”
“You are right,” resumed Father Waite. “And such a mind, of very necessity perfect, omnipotent, and, of course, ever-present, must likewise be eternal. For there would be nothing to contest its existence. Age, decay, and death would be unknown to it. And so would evil.”
“And that,” said Carmen, rising, “is my God.”
Father Waite nodded significantly to the others, and sat down, leaving the girl facing them, her luminous eyes looking off into unfathomed distances, and her face aglow with spiritual light.