Years passed away in the enjoyment of health, unannoyed by cares or sorrows, till Miss Roscoe was seized with that depressing melancholy which has been already described,[6] and which threw a sombrous gloom over all their prospects. From this affliction she was now recovering, and though her parents beheld with joy the gradual return of her cheerfulness, yet her cheerfulness was of such a serious cast that they rejoiced with trembling. As they were sitting together one evening, when their daughter had displayed unusual liveliness, Mr. Roscoe said, "My dear Sophia, it gives us great pleasure to witness your pleasantry, and we hope that in a short time you will be able to partake of the amusements in which you once took so much delight. We have resolved to celebrate your convalescence by giving a ball, and we hope you will lead off in style."
This communication, which was intended to raise her spirits, had a contrary effect; and she replied, "I am conscious that you always keep my happiness in view, but I assure you that such a mode of celebrating my deliverance from the gloomy night of mental sadness would ill accord with the sentiments and feelings of my mind; the song of mirth I would exchange for the hymn of praise, and would prefer the retirement of devout meditation to the noisy bustle and fantastic exhibition of human vanity and folly."
"But such amusements," replied Mr. Roscoe, "used to afford you gratification, and I do think, my Sophia, that they will contribute very materially towards restoring that high-toned vivacity which your spirits usually preserved."
"Yes, father, I once took great delight in such amusements, and almost contemned the person who despised them, but my taste is changed; and if you wish to retard the restoration of my mental energy and vivacity, you have only to urge a compliance, which will wound my conscience."
"This reply, my Sophia, confirms the fearful apprehensions which I have recently entertained concerning you."
"What, my father, are these fearful apprehensions?"
"You are escaping from the gloom of a physical depression, to be involved in a religious gloom, which will prove still more injurious. You know that I have always inculcated religious principles, and set you a virtuous example, and can you suppose that I would now recommend amusements which ought to wound your conscience?"
"But it would wound my conscience were I to mingle again in the gay parties, and partake of the amusements, in which I once delighted; and I am sure, after such an avowal, you will not press it."
"I would not press anything on you which would give you pain, but I fear lest the religious turn which you are now taking should lead you either to despondency or enthusiasm."
"O my father, it is a belief that Jesus Christ died for sinners, even the chief, that has given peace and hope to my deeply-depressed mind. This is the theme on which I love to dwell. In comparison with this, the charms of poetry or the discoveries of science are insignificant and worthless."