In All Disappointments Sympathy Is A Great

Margaret Found That The Indifferent, Careless Conversations Of One Who, However Kind, Was Not Too Warm And Anxious A Sympathizer, Did Her Good.

Neither Loss Of Father, Nor Loss Of Mother, Dear As She Was To Mr Thornton, Could Have Poisoned The Remembrance Of The Weeks, The Days, The Hours, When A Walk Of Two Miles, Every Step Of Which Was Pleasant, As It Brought Him Nearer And Nearer To Her, Took Him To Her Sweet Presence - Every Step Of Which Was Rich, As Each Recurring Moment That Bore Him Away From Her Made Him Recal Some Fresh Grace In Her Demeanour, Or Pleasant Pungency In Her Character.

He Came Up Straight To Her Father, Whose Hands He Took And Wrung Without A Word - Holding Them In His For A Minute Or Two, During Which Time His Face, His Eyes, His Look, Told Of More Sympathy Than Could Be Put Into Words.

I Never Did Write A Biography, And I Don't Exactly Know How To Set About It; You See I Have To Be Accurate And Keep To The Facts, A Most Difficult Thing For A Writer Of Fiction.

I Would Far Rather Have Two Or Three Lilies Of The Valley Gathered For Me By A Person I Like, Than The Most Expensive Bouquet That Could Be Bought!