"I'm moralizing," Marion said, laughing. "You yourself suggested that train of thought. I was wondering which of us was right in our notions, you or I; and, for all practical purposes, what difference it made."
"You are too high up for me to follow. I haven't the least idea what you mean."
"Why, I tell you I was contrasting our conditions. Let me see if I have a right view of them. Don't you honestly think that there is a God, and a heaven, and a hell, and that to escape the one place and secure the other certain efforts upon your part are necessary?"
"Why, of course I think so. I have never made any pretense of disbelieving all these things. I think it is foolish to do so."
"Exactly. Now for one question more: Have you made the effort that you believe to be necessary?"
"Have you been hired as an exhorter?" Ruth said, trying to laugh. "Why, no, I can not say that I have."
"Well, then, suppose you and I should both die to-night. _I_ don't believe any of these things; you do, but you don't practice on your belief. Then, according to your own view, you will be lost forever; and, according to that same view, so shall I. Now, practically, what difference is there between us? So if it is really blindness, why may not one be totally blind as well as to have a little sight that keeps one all the time in the wrong way?"
"I dare say we are quite as well off," Ruth said, composedly; "only I think there is this point of difference between us. I think your position is silly. I don't see how any one who has studied Paley and Butler, and in fact any of the sciences, can think so foolish a thing as you pretend to. One doesn't like to be foolish, even if one doesn't happen to be a Christian."
"Foolish?" Marion repeated, and there was a fine glow on her face. "Don't you go and talk anything so wild as that! If there is any class of people in this world who profess to be simpletons, and act up to their professions, it is you people who believe _everything_ and _do_ nothing. Now just look at the thing for a minute. Suppose you say, 'There is a precipice over there, and every whiff of wind blows us nearer to it; we will surely go over if we sit here; we ought to go up on that hill; I know that is a safe place,' and yet you sit perfectly still. And suppose I say, 'I don't believe there is any such thing as a precipice, and I believe this is just as safe a place as there is anywhere,' and _I_ sit still. Now I should like to know which of us was acting the sillier?"