She had, moreover, to contend with one disagreeable emotion entirely new to her—jealousy.
She felt how unprofitable contention would be.
Poor Mary little thought it would be such a bone of contention when she gave it me to keep, only two hours before she died.
At Mansfield, no sounds of contention, no raised voice, no abrupt bursts, no tread of violence, was ever heard; all proceeded in a regular course of cheerful orderliness; everybody had their due importance; everybody’s feelings were consulted.
She acknowledged her fears, blamed herself for having contended so warmly; and from that hour Fanny, understanding the worth of her disposition and perceiving how fully she was inclined to seek her good opinion and refer to her judgment, began to feel again the blessing of affection, and to entertain the hope of being useful to a mind so much in need of help, and so much deserving it.