precious little effect upon him. He sees me suffering under the con descending attentions and prosaic
discourses of the one, and the repulsive obtrusions of the other, without so much as a shadow of commiseration
for me, or resentment against my tormentors. He never could have loved me, or he would not have
resigned me so willingly, and he would not go on talking to everybody else so cheerfully as he does--
laughing and jesting with Lord Low borough and my uncle, teasing Milicent Hargrave, and flirting with
Annabella Wilmot--as if nothing were on his mind. Oh, why can't I hate him? I must be infatuated, or I
should scorn to regret him as I do! But I must rally all the powers I have remaining, and try to tear him
from my heart. There goes the dinner bell--and here comes my aunt to scold me for sitting here at my
desk all day, instead of staying with the company--I wish the company were--gone.