“You have too little faith. Mary Kendal.”
This statement was made without preliminary comment, and until she signed her name I thought Frederick was writing. I reminded her that she had made it impossible for me to trust her wholly.
“I am sorry I shook your faith,” she said. “I welcome you to this relation, and want you to believe.”
“Mother dearest, you know I am here, don’t you?” Again Frederick made his own interrogation point. “Because I am, and you will feel my presence more and more clearly as time goes on.”
“Do you know all that we want to know?” Cass inquired.
“Not all you want to know. We know more than you do, and will tell you all we can, as soon as you are ready for it.” We were uncertain whether this meant mentally and spiritually ready, or that we must learn the conditions through which they can best reach us, and he explained. “We can tell you anything you are prepared to understand, and the more you learn there the better you will do your work here.”
“Are you still interested in politics here?” he was asked, a little later.
“Oh yes. But they are in a state of transition that is fearfully difficult to understand or to influence now. The seed has been sown, but the harvest is not yet garnered. Nobody knows what will come of it in this country.”
“Are you conscious there of what people here call God?” his mother asked.
“We are conscious of a great purpose. Some of us call it God. I see it as light in dark places. Others see it as power. Others as love. But we all recognize it as a purpose.”