"Then, ma', if he will bless me, why does he let me live so unhappy? I have tried to pray to him to make me happy; but it's of no use. What can I do?"
"You must go into company more."
"It is useless. I can't now enjoy what I used to enjoy so much; and I don't know the cause. I feel doomed by fate to unhappiness, and yet I have everything to make me happy."
"I'll speak to Dr. Bailey; he is very likely to give a prescription that may relieve you."
"No physician's prescription will ever soothe the pangs of a wounded spirit."
"My dear Matilda, your case greatly distresses me, and your papa too. Tell us what we can do to comfort you, and we will do it."
"I cannot tell. What a contrast between Miss Roscoe and myself! How cheerful she is! what a sweet smile is always playing on her countenance! how lively and energetic she is, while I am wretched and depressed, weary of life, yet living in the dread of death; more wretched, while in the possession of abundance, than the poor in their poverty."
Some few weeks after this conversation, Miss Denham, on her return from making some morning calls, said to her mamma, "You recollect our meeting Mr. Cole, the last time we were at Mr. Roscoe's?"
"Yes, dear."