"You have given none," answered she. "You would not knowingly make sport of what you must respect. Religion is not gloomy, nor is it ridiculous."
"Its professors, with some honorable exceptions, are one or the other," said Richard.
"This is their misfortune or failing, not the fault of the system," returned Ida. "Mortal nature is fallible, Mr. Copeland."
"You admit it, then?" said Mr. Thornton. "The greatest objection I have to pious people is that they do not permit this indulgence to abused human nature. They wind themselves up in their impenetrable cloaks of sanctification and perfectionism, and send us—no matter where—for hankering after innocent amusements. And if one of their caste beats time to a merry tune, or shows his head inside of a theatre, he is run down as if he had the hydrophobia. Such sermons as they preach about the hand or foot offending! It would be a wise precaution, in my judgment, to make the amputation of the feet part of the ceremony of initiation into church membership. You are superior to such narrow-mindedness, I hope, Miss Ida?"
"If 'narrow-mindedness' signifies drawing a distinct line of demarcation between the church and the world, I shall come under your lash, Mr. Thornton."
"And do you, candid and liberal as you are, declare that there is sin—mind you! a 'want of conformity to, or transgression of the law of God'—in moving through a certain form of steps to the sound of music?" said he, indignantly.
"I do not profess to see sin in the mere act of dancing," replied Ida; "but—I do not wish to argue, Mr. Thornton. If nothing else forbade my joining in the amusement, it is prohibited by the church to which I belong."
"Worse and worse! Miss Ida, this is unworthy of you. It is the Papal doctrine of depositing one's conscience in the priest's pocket book. If your church commanded you to steal or kill, would you obey?"
"No; for a higher law forbids it. I am bound to follow the church only so far as it follows the Bible."
"But the Bible says there is a time to dance."