"I will tell you what I find. Very ancient writings, and very beautiful language, which I admire exceedingly; but nothing upon which I can rely."
"Not in God's Word?"
"How do I know that it is God's Word? How can I be sure that there is a God at all?"
Celia was silent. Such questions had never suggested themselves to her mind before, and she knew not how to deal with them. At length she said—
"Philip, I believe in one God, who is my Father, and orders all things for me; and who gave His Son Jesus Christ to die for me, instead of my dying for my own sins. Is this so difficult to believe?"
"I believe that you believe it," said Philip, smiling.
"But you do not believe it yourself?" she asked, with a baffled feeling.
"I have told you," he said, "that I believe nothing."
"Philip," she answered, softly, "I do not understand your feelings, and I do not know what to say to you. I must ask my Father. I will lay it before Him to-night; and as He shall give me wisdom I will talk with you again."
So she closed the subject, not knowing that the quiet certainty of conviction expressed in her last words had made a deeper impression upon Philip than any argument which could have been used to him.