Even a real philosopher would be
apt to feel nettled were he to suspect that he was making himself
ridiculous in the eyes of his most beautiful daughter. I said a little
sternly:
"I wish you would explain to me, in the first place, what you mean by
saying that I might not be dead as we now understand being dead."
Winona folded her hands. "I said that, father, because we Christian
Scientists are not yet certain as to what is the precise nature of
death. There are some who deem death also an hallucination, and the
apparent annihilation of matter consequent upon it merely a reflex
confirmation of the truth that there is no matter, only spirit; and it
may well be that as the world grows in faith, death will disappear in
that we shall cease to think we see matter. Mrs. Titus holds this
view, but I am not yet sufficiently free from error to be sure that I
believe it."
"But you are sure you believe that I should not have typhoid fever?"
"Perfectly."
"But what if the doctors said I had?"
"They would be mistaken, father."
I stroked my chin in order to bridle my tongue. "How old are you,
Winona?" I asked.
"Just eighteen, father."
"You have never studied medicine, I believe?"
"No."
"Nor had any special advantages or opportunities to investigate the
nature of disease?"
"Only through Mrs.
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