She was speaking only as she had been used to hear others speak, as she imagined everybody else would speak.

Hers are not faults of temper.

She would not voluntarily give unnecessary pain to any one, and though I may deceive myself, I cannot but think that for me, for my feelings, she would--Hers are faults of principle, Fanny; of blunted delicacy and a corrupted, vitiated mind.

Perhaps it is best for me, since it leaves me so little to regret.

Not so, however.
Gladly would I submit to all the increased pain of losing her, rather than have to think of her as I do.