"No, no; thank heaven, to that misery, at least, I am a stranger!"

His countenance now again resumed its severity, and, in the sternest
manner, "Whence then," he said, "these tears? and what is this caprice
you dignify with the name of sorrow?--strange wantonness of indolence
and luxury! perverse repining of ungrateful plenitude!--oh hadst thou
known what _I_ have suffered!"--

"Could I lessen what you have suffered," said Cecilia, "I should
sincerely rejoice; but heavy indeed must be your affliction, if mine in
its comparison deserves to be styled caprice!"

"Caprice!" repeated he, "'tis joy! 'tis extacy compared with mine!--
Thou hast not in licentiousness wasted thy inheritance! thou hast not
by remorse barred each avenue to enjoyment! nor yet has the cold grave
seized the beloved of thy soul!"

"Neither," said Cecilia, "I hope, are the evils you have yourself
sustained so irremediable?"

"Yes, I have borne them all!--_have_ borne? I bear them still; I shall
bear them while I breathe! I may rue them, perhaps, yet longer."

"Good God!" cried Cecilia, shrinking, "what a world is this! how full
of woe and wickedness!" "Yet thou, too, canst complain," cried he,
"though happy in life's only blessing, Innocence! thou, too, canst
murmur, though stranger to death's only terror, Sin! Oh yet if thy
sorrow is unpolluted with guilt, be regardless of all else, and rejoice
in thy destiny!" "But who," cried she, deeply sighing, "shall teach me
such a lesson of joy, when all within rises to oppose it?"