Charley had bided his time. She stood the test well, and he came in to the rescue. "She is right, Thornton. You and I know it--why dispute it? Only yesterday, you were laughing at the inconsistency of the 'dancing Christians' you frolicked with down the country." "I commended their liberality, their freedom from superstition," interposed Thornton, still laughing. "Humbug! you said--'they have found a road to the Celestial City, which our orthodox brethren about here do not patronise;--have graded and widened the strait and narrow way we read of, until it is as smooth as a ball-room floor; and dance up the shining route. I used to think some preparation was requisite, before I could be fitted for heaven; but I am comforted in spirit since meeting them. My chance is as good as theirs in the long run.' Those were your very words--deny them if you can, or that you were ridiculing them. You are, like myself, more than a Sabbath-day's journey from being a Christian; and you assert that they are not much better off. The plain English of which is, that you are consistent to your professions;--they say they believe one thing, and practise the opposite. Pretending to despise the vanities of this life, they pursue them more eagerly than the things which are unseen and eternal. If a man unites himself with the church, let him live as if he were changed. I go to the theatre, although I do not consider it the best school of morals one can frequent; but it _grieves_ me to see, in my neighbor, a so-called pious man. I am ashamed for him--my respect for the reputation of his church is greater than his. I dance--and sleep afterwards with an easy conscience; but if you ever see me 'tripping on the light fantastic toe,' with an angelic creature who is a communicant in a Bible-reading sect, you may write it down as an immutable fact, that she asked me--not I her!" Charley was lawless. Nobody criticised or was offended with him; and Ida was always certain of finding in him, an ally and advocate; but grateful as she was for his ready aid, upon occasions like the present, she prized more highly the counsels, which his knowledge of mankind, and his undeviating sense of rectitude qualified him to give. She had faults,--he pointed them out; she erred in judgment,--he corrected the evil as far as he could. The spectacle of his daily life was useful. He possessed almost boundless influence over his associates, and their attachment to him was close and strong. They understood, intuitively, the worth of the inner man,--never fully unveiled to the majority of them, and could not but admire and esteem. And Ida's constant thought of him was--"If he, calling himself unconverted, accomplishes so much--what ought not I--a Christian, to attempt?" CHAPTER XXIV.