As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper.

I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit.
Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own.

Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous.

By you, I was properly humbled.

I came to you without a doubt of my reception.
You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased." "Had you then persuaded yourself that I should ?" "Indeed I had.