"Ah! there you come round to your divinity," said Philip, lightly. "Whatever I ask you, you always centre there; and Patient will say Amen to all your propositions, I have no doubt. But to return to our point of departure: I hardly see your 'rank dishonesty' in the acts of the Court. I believe this--that if the Queen thought it dishonest, she would not do it. She is considered here a very religious woman: not in your way, I dare say. But we freethinkers, you know, do not set much value on small differences. If a man be sincere, that is the chief thing; even some of the more enlightened of the Catholic Fathers allow that. Does not the Bible say that there are twelve gates to Heaven?[36] There is a reference for you." "A reference that'll no hold water, Mr. Philip," said Patient, looking up. "For though there be twelve gates into the City, there's only door into the Fold:[37] and I'll be fain to know how you are shaping, without passing the one door, to get in at any of the twelve gates. For whoso 'entereth not in by the door into the sheepfold, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber.'"[38] "Philip," added Celia, softly, "there is but one gate and one way to life, which is Jesus Christ." "Ah! at it again!" said Philip, lifting his eyebrows, and finishing his chocolate. "Always at it," answered Celia, in the same tone. "'Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth' must speak.[39] Philip, your idea about sincerity will lead you terribly astray--I am sure it will. There is but one truth; and if a man believe falsehood, will his thinking it truth make it so? Sincerity is not the chief thing. The chief things are faith and love in us, and the Lord Jesus Christ out of us. 'He that hath the Son hath life: and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life.'[40] O Philip! listen to me this once! 'It is not a vain thing for thee, because it is thy life!'"[41] Philip looked into his sister's earnest eyes, rose and kissed her, and sat down again. "You are a capital little sister," he said, "and admirably cut out for a _réligieuse_. I am quite glad the Protestants don't take to that amusement, or I should certainly lose you, and I like you too well to afford it." Celia sighed. Her words did not appear to have made the faintest impression. "What a sigh!" said Philip. "My dear little Celia! do you take me for an utter reprobate, that you think it necessary to mourn over me in that way?" "Philip," said Celia, very solemnly, "a man must be either inside the sheepfold of Jesus, or outside it. Without is without, whether the door which he refuses to enter be a yard from him or a thousand miles. Without the Fold now, without the City hereafter. And 'without are dogs, and sorcerers, and whoremongers, and murderers, and idolaters, and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie.'"[42] "I know mighty few people who are in, then," said Philip, whistling, and considering the carpet.