'I believe He is the Christ!'
'You do?'
'I do.'
'But why?'
All eyes had turned towards the young man; who had gone white to the lips.
'I do not know that I am able to furnish you with what you would esteem a logical reason. Could the Apostles have given a mathematical demonstration of the causes of their belief? I only know that I feel Him in the air.'
'Of this room?'
'Yes, thank God! of this room.'
'You use strange words. Do you base your belief on his reported miracles?'
'Not entirely, though I entirely dissent from Sir William Braidwood's theory that we are near to what he calls the supernatural; except in the sense that we are near heaven, and that God is everywhere. Such works are only of Him. Man never wrought them; or never will. My mother loved Christ. She taught me to do so. Perhaps that is why I know that He is in London now.'