"You see, I cannot let the great subject alone," she said, welcoming the girl with a smile and glancing at her books. "Now that I have begun to get a glimpse of the truth, it is like a fountain of pure, cold water to a man perishing from thirst—I cannot get enough of it; I just want to immerse myself in it. And, see here," she added, touching a letter lying beside the books, "I have written to the publishing house in Boston for several of Mrs. Eddy's works. I want them for my very own."
"You are surely making progress," Katherine returned, with shining eyes.
She was very happy, for this eager, radiant woman seemed an entirely different being from the helpless sufferer to whom she had been called less than forty-eight hours previous.
"Sit down, Kathie," said her teacher, indicating a chair near her.
"I hope I am making progress," she added, growing suddenly grave.
"I find there is need enough of it, and I have been both on the
mount and into the valley to-day."
"That is the experience of everyone," was the smiling reply, "but it all means progress just the same."
"I see that everyone who begins to get a glimpse of the truth, in Christian Science, must also begin to live it at once, if he is honest."
"Yes, we have to live it in order to prove it."
"And the first thing to do is, as Jesus commanded, to have one God and to love our neighbor as ourselves. That word 'love' has taken on a new meaning for me to-day, Kathie. It means an impersonal love, which, like the 'rain'—in Jesus' simile—'falls alike upon the just and the unjust.'"
Katherine lifted questioning eyes to the speaker, for her voice was now accusingly serious.
"And one cannot demonstrate the Love that is God," she went on, "unless he loves in that way—without regard to personality."