Adele smiled. “Oh, yes, I suppose so. But what I want is a simple answer—my class must understand, and think about it afterwards.”
“Perhaps you know the answer yourself, already,” said the Professor, “and only wish to quiz me.”
Adele shifted her position on his knee, as if uneasy. “Why, of course I know; I suppose everybody knows,—but I want to be helped. Knowing is not enough. What is sin, anyhow? I know it’s detestable, but I can’t help it. That’s about all I do know, really.”
The Professor drew a breath of relief. Adele saw her father’s eyes brighten, and instantly felt that he would help her.
“Not such a poser as you think,” said the Professor, with marvelous cheerfulness, considering the topic, “although an immense amount has been written about it which certainly is confusing.” Adele, noticing that to him it certainly was not so gloomy as she had expected, at once felt at ease also.
“I don’t care what has been written about it to confuse,—what is it? Some speak of a particular sin first committed by Adam and Eve, and we have inherited it from them. Well, Father dear, I don’t believe I inherited sin from you, even if I do have it myself. God in Heaven is Love,—I can’t believe such a thing of Him. Every baby I look at tells me it isn’t sinful. Why, they stretch out their little hands to you to take ’em in your arms.”
Her father appeared rather more solemn in aspect than before; experiencing a peculiar paternal sensation of mysterious responsibility. He let Adele continue.
“Others,” said she, “speak as if it were a condition we each have to experience for some reason or other. That seems reasonable, because we do. But it’s very confusing to teach, or even to talk of to any one else, even if we all do have the experience. What is it, anyhow?” and she looked at her father straight in the eyes.
A strong, impressive, additional experience, which was inspiring for both of them, resulted; and Adele afterwards looked back upon it as one of life’s turning points, if not a veritable crisis.
Truth paternal, as if direct from “Our Father,” rose instantly within the innermost consciousness of Professor Cultus, father of his beloved daughter sitting on his knee, seeking the truth where she believed it could be found. He knew intuitively what sort of definition could alone satisfy Adele at that time in her life. He must speak the pure helpful truth in sincerity, just as he saw it himself, no more, no less:—and this being the case, the Holy Spirit of Truth in Life gave him power of utterance. He answered promptly. Adele never forgot his words, or to be more precise, the wonderful concept as to facts in nature which his words instilled within her own personality. The thoughts engendered became a part of her being, and produced a purer atmosphere for body, mind and heart.