"But," said Miss Roscoe, whose independent mind had not lost its intellectual vigour during the gloomy night of mental sadness, "what does the Bible reveal, which is so peculiarly appropriate to me?" "It reveals a Saviour, who came into the world to save sinners." "That truth I know, and I cannot banish it from my recollection; but I cannot perceive how the belief of it is calculated to bring back my long-lost happiness." "But, my dear, _if you did believe it_, in the scriptural acceptation of the term, it would not only remove the depression of your spirits, but raise you into a higher and a purer state of felicity than that from whence you are fallen." "I do believe it, and what more is required?" "What more, my dear Miss Roscoe? You should reduce your belief to a practical operation, and, in the most simple and humble form of speech, plead the merits of the Saviour's death for the remission of your sins, for peace of conscience, and for eternal life. 'For through Him we have access by one Spirit unto the Father.' You are unhappy, but know not the cause; and that morbid melancholy which has destroyed your health, and laid waste the vivacity of your spirits, has hitherto set at defiance every expedient which you have employed for its removal; but such is the mysterious efficacy of the death of Jesus Christ, _when the design of his death is perceived_, that it makes the wounded spirit whole, and it calms the troubled breast. The state of your mind is neither hopeless nor singular; and though at present you may not be able to perceive how your mental anguish can issue in mental peace, yet, if you try the efficacy of prayer, you will see 'the darkened cloud withdraw;' and then you will adore the grace which humbles to exalt, which impoverishes to enrich, and which renders our sources of earthly pleasure incapable of affording delight, that we may be compelled to derive our supreme felicity from fellowship with the Father, and his Son Jesus Christ." This intercourse led to an intimacy, which soon ripened into a strong attachment; and that morbid melancholy, which had withstood the rural charms of Dawlish, and the captivating amusements of Bath, began to give way under the religious communications of a friend, who had often been ridiculed for her zeal, and sometimes reproached for attempting to disturb the peace of those whose happiness she lived to promote. Mr. and Mrs. Roscoe saw, with no ordinary emotions of delight, the dawning of serenity on the countenance of their beloved child, but knew not the cause till they accidentally saw her reading the Bible, which they had been recommended to keep from her. In the evening, as they were sitting together, Mr. Roscoe said, "I think, my dear Sophia, that you are regaining your former vivacity." "I am more happy than I was, but not so happy as I wish to be."