It has brought me into the scrape, and will not help me out of it.
He meant no harm--it was only his joyous, playful spirit; and I, by my acrimonious resentment--so serious, so disproportioned to the offence--have so wounded his feelings, so deeply offended him, that I fear he will never forgive me--and all for a mere jest! He thinks I dislike him, and he must continue to think so.

I must lose him for ever, and Annabella may win him, and triumph as she will.
But it is not my loss nor her triumph that I deplore so greatly as the wreck of my fond hopes for his advantage, and her unworthiness of his affection, and the injury he will do himself by trusting his happiness to her.

She does not love him: she thinks only of herself.

She cannot appreciate the good that is in him: she will neither see it, nor value it, nor cherish it.

She will neither deplore his faults nor attempt their amendment, but rather aggravate them by her own.