"To the meaning of those various acts," answered Charles; "the pious feeling which accompanies the sight of the image is the music."
"To those who have the pious feeling, certainly," said Sheffield; "but to put up images in England in order to create the feeling is like dancing to create music."
"I think you are hard upon England," replied Charles; "we are a religious people."
"Well, I will put it differently: do you like music?"
"You ought to know," said Charles, "whom I have frightened so often with my fiddle."
"Do you like dancing?"
"To tell the truth," said Charles, "I don't."
"Nor do I," said Sheffield; "it makes me laugh to think what I have done, when a boy, to escape dancing; there is something so absurd in it; and one had to be civil and to duck to young girls who were either prim or pert. I have behaved quite rudely to them sometimes, and then have been annoyed at my ungentlemanlikeness, and not known how to get out of the scrape."
"Well, I didn't know we were so like each other in anything," said Charles; "oh, the misery I have endured, in having to stand up to dance, and to walk about with a partner!—everybody looking at me, and I so awkward. It has been a torture to me days before and after."
They had by this time come up to the foot of the rough rising ground which leads to the sort of table-land on the edge of which Oxley is placed; and they stood still awhile to see some equestrians take the hurdles. They then mounted the hill, and looked back upon Oxford.