"Yes, my dear, they say they are happy; but what pleasure can there be in religion?"
"I don't know, mamma; but I am sure that Mrs. Stevens and Miss Roscoe have a larger share of happiness than I have. I often feel a gloom come over my mind, which I can neither remove nor account for; and sometimes I feel such a singular depression of spirit, that I am inclined to read my Bible; but I don't know that it would do me any good."
"Why, you know, my dear, you have been confined at home rather more than usual, which has relaxed your nerves too much; but our parties will soon meet, and then the gloom of which you speak will go off. But I must request you to avoid associating with your new friends, especially now you are somewhat depressed in spirits, or they may bring you over to take to their religion, which would be, as I have often told you, a most prodigious affliction to your father and myself."
"I cannot, mamma, efface from my memory the sermon which I once heard Mr. Ingleby preach. It sometimes recurs to my recollection with a force that quite overpowers me; and I have such fearful dreams. I dreamt last night that, just as I was coming out of the theatre, the heavens all at once blazed with fire, and I thought the day of judgment was come. I awoke in such a fright, and just then I heard Hector howl most awfully."
"But, my dear, this was only a dream."
"But is not my dream a presentiment?"
"O, no, my dear! it's only superstitious people who ever have such a thing as a presentiment."
"But, ma', I am unhappy, indeed I am. I can't forget the sermon I heard Mr. Ingleby preach."
"I wish you had never gone to his church. I wished you not to go. You should always follow my advice; I have more knowledge of men and things than you have."