Tact, If It Be Genuine, Never Sleeps.

It Seems To Me, Monsieur, That There Is Nothing More Galling In Great Physical Misfortunes Than To Be Compelled To Make All Those About Us Share In Our Sufferings. The Ills Of The Soul One Can Hide, But Those Which Attack The Body And Destroy The Faculties Cannot Be Concealed.

You Have Introduced A Topic On Which Our Natures Are At Variance - A Topic We Should Never Discuss: The Very Name Of Love Is An Apple Of Discord Between Us. If The Reality Were Required, What Should We Do? How Should We Feel? My Dear Cousin, Abandon Your Scheme Of Marriage - Forget It.

Love Me, Then, Or Hate Me, As You Will," I Said At Last, "you Have My Full And Free Forgiveness: Ask Now For God's, And Be At Peace.

I Recalled The Voice I Had Heard; Again I Questioned Whence It Came, As Vainly As Before: It Seemed In Me Not In The External World. I Asked, Was It A Mere Nervous Impression A Delusion? I Could Not Conceive Or Believe: It Was More Like An Inspiration.

I Had Not Seen "pride And Prejudice," Till I Read That Sentence Of Yours, And Then I Got The Book. And What Did I Find? An Accurate Daguerreotyped Portrait Of A Common-place Face; A Carefully Fenced, Highly Cultivated Garden, With Neat Borders And Delicate Flowers; But No Glance Of A Bright, Vivid Physiognomy, No Open Country, No Fresh Air, No Blue Hill, No Bonny Beck. I Should Hardly Like To Live With Her Ladies And Gentlemen, In Their Elegant But Confined Houses.