Mary and BettyI’d be lying if I denied loving her. There probably was not a moment since shortly after I met her in that Austen class that I did not. It is not that I did not try to find my someone. I just never succeeded. My life was not a fairytale. As I look back, maybe I did compare my other women to her. I was not, though, staring at my phone pining for her call.
As Austen wrote, speaking of Captain Wentworth and Anne Elliot, “he meant to forget her, and believed it to be done. He had imagined himself indifferent, when he had only been angry; and he had been unjust to her merits, because he had been a sufferer from them. Her character was now fixed on his mind as perfection itself.”
And now Betty Anne Elliot was asking me to live with her. Now she was asking me to be a homewrecker.
