'No. One is offered to Him, the other is mere entertainment.'
'So is the first to most folks. Now, you boy, honestly, do you mean that it is not much of a muchness with sacred and profane, so far as motive goes?'
'It is what I am always trying that it should be,' said Lance.
'Only trying?'
'Only trying.'
'And you consider yourself to be this sacrifice, this victim, by singing in a surplice for ladies to whisper about, instead of getting trained to interpret—nay, what I do say! maybe, compose—the grandest human music. You've got it in you, my boy.'
'You may say what you please,' said Lance, turning away to the fire.
'I don't want to vex you, boy, I only want to make it out. I see the sacrifice.'
'It was my own fault for saying a word about it to you,' muttered Lance.
'But I don't see the sense of it,' proceeded Edgar, 'or what it is but your own fancy that puts the one thing up in the heights, the other down in the depths.'