"May I ask what they were?"
"George MacDonald's Malcolm from which I named my dog 'Lossy,' and a book called Ardath. I do not remember the name of the author."
"Ardath, and you do not remember the name of the author? She would feel quite complimented at the impression made upon you, I am sure. Perhaps you would like to refresh your memory?" Agnes spoke with a tone of triumphant satisfaction, as she handed to him the book which she held. He took it and read on the title-page, "Ardath; The Story of a Dead Self; by Marie Corelli."
"This is a coincidence, is it not, Miss Dudley," said Leon, returning the volume. "I suppose it was very stupid of me to forget the author's name, but really I am so much more interested in the world of science, that romance has little attraction for me. In the one we deal in facts, while the other is all fiction."
"Is that your estimate of the relation existing between the two," said Agnes, with a twinkle in her eye. She always delighted in an argument, when she felt that she held the mastery of the situation, as she did now. Therefore she entered the combat, about to begin, with a zest equal to the love of debate which Leon possessed.
"You say that science deals only in facts. If you remember anything of Ardath, which is not probable, since you forget the writer, you may recall that in his wanderings through the city, Al-Kyris, Theos meets Mira-Khabur, the Professor of Positivism. The description of this meeting, and the conversation between the men is admirable, as a satire upon the claims of the scientists. Let me read to you one of the Professor's speeches. Theos has said:
"Then the upshot of all your learning sir, is that one can never be quite certain of anything?"
"Exactly so!" replied the pensive sage, with a grave shake of the head. "Judged by the very finest lines of metaphysical argument you cannot really be sure whether you behold in me a Person, or a Phantasm! You think you see me,—I think I see you,—but after all it is only an impression mutually shared—an impression which, like many another less distinct, may be entirely erroneous! Ah, my dear young sir! education is advancing at a very rapid rate, and the art of close analysis is reaching such a pitch of perfection, that I believe we shall soon be able logically to prove, not only that we do not actually exist, but, moreover, that we never have existed."
"What have you to say to that?" asked Agnes closing the book, but keeping one finger between the leaves, to mark the place.
"Why," said Leon, smiling, "that it is a very clever paragraph, and recalls to my mind the whole scene. I think that, later, this same Professor of Positivism declares that the only thing he is positive of, is the 'un-positiveness of Positivism!'"