She turned towards the window with the colonel, and all I saw was that he handed her a letter, which, having hastily broken open and thrown her eyes over, she grew at first deadly pale, then red, and while her eyes filled with tears, I heard her say, "How like him! How truly generous this is!" I listened for no more; my brain was wheeling round and my senses reeling.

I turned and left the room; in another moment I was on my horse, galloping from the spot, despair, in all its blackness, in my heart, and in my broken-hearted misery, wishing for death.
I was miles away from Dublin ere I remembered well what had occurred, and even then not over clearly.

The fact that Lucy Dashwood, whom I imagined to be my own in heart, loved another, was all that I really knew.

That one thought was all my mind was capable of, and in it my misery, my wretchedness were centred.
Of all the grief my life has known, I have had no moments like the long hours of that dreary night.

My sorrow, in turn, took every shape and assumed every guise.