It Would Be Most Right, And Most

'my Fingers,' Said Elizabeth, 'do Not Move Over This Instrument In The Masterly Manner Which I See So Many Woman's Do. They Have Not The Same Force Of Rapidity And Do Not Possess The Same Expression. But Then I Have Always Supposed It To Be My Own Fault - Because I Would Not Take The Trouble Of Practicing. It Is Not That I Do Not Believe My Fingers As Capable As Any Other Woman's Of Superior Execution.' Darcy Smiled And Said, 'you Are Perfectly Right.'

I Leave It To Be Settled, By Whomsoever It May Concern, Whether The Tendency Of This Work Be Altogether To Recommend Parental Tyranny, Or Reward Filial Disobedience.

I Have Faults Enough, But They Are Not, I Hope, Of Understanding. My Temper I Dare Not Vouch For. It Is, I Believe, Too Little Yielding— Certainly Too Little For The Convenience Of The World. I Cannot Forget The Follies And Vices Of Other So Soon As I Ought, Nor Their Offenses Against Myself. My Feelings Are Not Puffed About With Every Attempt To Move Them. My Temper Would Perhaps Be Called Resentful. My Good Opinion Once Lost, Is Lost Forever.

Facts Or Opinions Which Are To Pass Through The Hands Of So Many, To Be Misconceived By Folly In One, And Ignorance In Another, Can Hardly Have Much Truth Left.

I Have Made Myself Two Or Three Caps To Wear Of Evenings Since I Came Home, And They Save Me A World Of Torment As To Hair-dressing, Which At Present Gives Me No Trouble Beyond Washing And Brushing, For My Long Hair Is Always Plaited Up Out Of Sight, And My Short Hair Curls Well Enough To Want No Papering.