Do anything but marry without affection.
As every woman knows, there is a scarcity of men in general and even a greater scarcity of any that are good for much.
Nothing compares with the misery of being bound without love. Bound to one and preferring another.
He is a Haden. Nothing but a Haden. A sort of wonderful, non-descript creature on two legs. Something between a man and an angel.
More than 7 years were gone since this little history of sorrowful interest had reached its close. She hoped to be wise and reasonable in time, but alas! Alas! She must confess to herself that she was not wise yet. She had used him ill, deserted and disappointed him, and worse, she had shown a feebleness of character in doing so, which his own decided confident temper could not endure. She had given him up to oblige others. She had been forced into prudence in her youth. She learned romance as she grew older, the natural sequence to an unnatural beginning.
For a few moments, her imagination and her heart were bewitched. She had some feelings which she was ashamed to investigate. They were too much like joy, senseless joy. Anne hoped she had outlived the age of blushing, but the age of emotion she certainly had not. All of the overpowering, blinding, bewildering first effects of strong surprise were over with her. Still, however, she had enough to feel. It was agitation, pain, pleasure, a something between delight and misery. The room seemed full of persons and voices. A thousand feeling rushed on Anne of which this was the most consoling. But it would soon be over.
She was the sun of my life, the gilder of every pleasure, the soother of every sorrow. I had not a thought concealed from her, and it’s as if I lost a part of myself.
When I look out on such a night as this, I feel as if there could be neither wickedness nor sorrow in the world. You are the delight of my life. Fanny, listen to your own heart now.
View more about Miss Austen Regrets reviews
