replied Imlac, "dispute at present. Remember the confession of the
pious hermit. You will wish to return into the world when the
image of your companion has left your thoughts."

"That time," said Nekayah, "will never come. The generous
frankness, the modest obsequiousness, and the faithful secrecy of
my dear Pekuah will always be more missed as I shall live longer to
see vice and folly."

"The state of a mind oppressed with a sudden calamity," said Imlac,
"is like that of the fabulous inhabitants of the new-created earth,
who, when the first night came upon them, supposed that day would
never return. When the clouds of sorrow gather over us, we see
nothing beyond them, nor can imagine how they will be dispelled;
yet a new day succeeded to the night, and sorrow is never long
without a dawn of ease. But they who restrain themselves from
receiving comfort do as the savages would have done had they put
out their eyes when it was dark. Our minds, like our bodies, are
in continual flux; something is hourly lost, and something
acquired. To lose much at once is inconvenient to either, but
while the vital power remains uninjured, nature will find the means
of reparation. Distance has the same effect on the mind as on the
eye; and while we glide along the stream of time, whatever we leave
behind us is always lessening, and that which we approach
increasing in magnitude. Do not suffer life to stagnate: it will
grow muddy for want of motion; commit yourself again to the current
of the world; Pekuah will vanish by degrees; you will meet in your
way some other favourite, or learn to diffuse yourself in general
conversation."