I Love You. Most Ardently.

Eleanor Went To Her Room "where She Was Free To Think And Be Wretched.

I Have Faults Enough, But They Are Not, I Hope, Of Understanding. My Temper I Dare Not Vouch For. It Is, I Believe, Too Little Yielding— Certainly Too Little For The Convenience Of The World. I Cannot Forget The Follies And Vices Of Other So Soon As I Ought, Nor Their Offenses Against Myself. My Feelings Are Not Puffed About With Every Attempt To Move Them. My Temper Would Perhaps Be Called Resentful. My Good Opinion Once Lost, Is Lost Forever.

Elinor Could Sit Still No Longer. She Almost Ran Out Of The Room, And As Soon As The Door Was Closed, Burst Into Tears Of Joy, Which At First She Thought Would Never Cease.

There Are Few People Whom I Really Love And Still Fewer Of Whom I Think Well.

From A Night Of More Sleep Than She Had Expected, Marianne Awoke The Next Morning To The Same Consciousness Of Misery In Which She Had Closed Her Eyes.