"It is but too true,--I have lost her for ever!"

"Poor thing," said he, while the rigour of his countenance was softened
into the gentlest commiseration, "so young!--looking, too, so innocent--
'tis hard!--And is nothing left thee? no small remaining hope, to
cheat, humanely cheat thy yet not wholly extinguished credulity?"

Cecilia wept without answering.

"Let me not," said he, "waste my compassion upon nothing; compassion is
with me no effusion of affectation; tell me, then, if thou deservest
it, or if thy misfortunes are imaginary, and thy grief is factitious?"

"Factitious," repeated she, "Good heaven!"

"Answer me, then, these questions, in which I shall comprise the only
calamities for which sorrow has no controul, or none from human
motives. Tell me, then, have you lost by death the friend of your
bosom?"

"No!"

"Is your fortune dissipated by extravagance, and your power of
relieving the distressed at an end?"

"No; the power and the will are I hope equally undiminished."

"O then, unhappy girl! have you been guilty of some vice, and hangs
remorse thus heavy on your conscience?"