“I well might,” she answered with a sigh.
“On such a beautiful day as this, with the bright clear sky above us, and the hoar-frost sparkling like diamonds in the glorious sunshine, how can one avoid feeling happy?” asked I.
“It is very beautiful,” she replied, after gazing around for a moment; “and yet can you not imagine a state of mind in which this fair scene, with all its varied charms, may impress one with a feeling of bitterness rather than of pleasure, by the contrast it affords to the darkness and weariness of soul within? Place some famine-stricken wretch beneath the roof of a gilded palace, think you the sight of its magnificence would give him any sensation of pleasure? Would it not rather, by increasing the sense of his own misery, add to his agony of spirit?”
“I can conceive such a case possible,” replied I; “but you would make us out to be all famine-stricken wretches at this rate: you cannot surely imagine that every one is unhappy?”
“There are, no doubt, different degrees of unhappiness,” returned Miss Saville; “yet I can hardly conceive any position in life so free from cares, as to be pronounced positively happy; but I know my ideas on this subject are peculiar, and I am by no means desirous of making a convert of you, Mr. Fairlegh; the world will do that soon enough, I fear,” she added with a sigh.
“I cannot believe it,” replied I warmly. “True, at times we must all feel sorrow; it is one of the conditions of our mortal lot, and we must bear it with what resignation we may, knowing that, if we but make a fitting use of it, it is certain to work for our highest good; but if you would have me look upon this world as a vale of tears, forgetting all its glorious opportunities for raising our fallen nature to something so bright and noble, as to be even here but little lower than the angels, you must pardon me if I never can agree with you.”
There was a moment's pause, when my companion resumed.
“You talk of opportunities of doing good, as being likely to increase our stock of happiness; and, no doubt, you are right; but imagine a situation, in which you are unable to take advantage of these opportunities when they arise—in which you are not a free agent, your will fettered and controlled on every point, so that you are alike powerless to perform the good that you desire, and to avoid the evil you both hate and fear—could you be happy in such a situation, think you?”
“You describe a case which is, or ought to be, impossible,” replied I; “when I say ought to be, I mean that in these days, I hope and believe, it is impossible for any one to be forced to do wrong, unless, from a natural weakness and facility of disposition, and from a want of moral courage, their resistance is so feeble, that those who seek to compel them to evil are induced to redouble their efforts, when a little firmness and decision clearly shown, and steadily adhered to, would have produced a very different result.”
“Oh that I could think so!” exclaimed Miss Saville ardently: she paused for a minute, as if in thought, and then resumed in a low mournful voice, “But you do not know—you cannot tell; besides, it is useless to struggle against destiny: there are people fated from childhood to grief and misfortune—alone in this cold world”—she paused, then continued abruptly, “you have a sister?”