"Conscience, and honour, and the most despotic necessity dragged me apart from her, and kept me sundered with ponderous fetters. She was free: she might have been clement."
"Never free to compromise her self-respect, to seek where she had been shunned."
"Then she was inconsistent; she tantalized as before. When I thought I had made up my mind to seeing in her only a lofty stranger, she would suddenly show me such a glimpse of loving simplicity--she would warm me with such a beam of reviving sympathy, she would gladden an hour with converse so gentle, gay, and kindly--that I could no more shut my heart on her image than I could close that door against her presence. Explain why she distressed me so."
"She could not bear to be quite outcast; and then she would sometimes get a notion into her head, on a cold, wet day, that the schoolroom was no cheerful place, and feel it incumbent on her to go and see if you and Henry kept up a good fire; and once there, she liked to stay."
"But she should not be changeful. If she came at all, she should come oftener."
"There is such a thing as intrusion."

"Conscience and honour dragged me apart from her with ponderous fetters. She was free: she might have been merciful."
"Never free to seek where she had been shunned."
"Then she was inconsistent; she tantalized. She would suddenly show me such a glimpse of loving simplicity - she would speak so gently, so kindly - that I could not shut her image out of my heart. Explain why she distressed me so."
"She could not bear to be quite outcast," said Shirley; "and on a cold day she would sometimes feel she ought to go and see if you and Henry had a good fire in the schoolroom; and once there, she liked to stay."
