Oh dear, Marianne made me think it. (-;

The first, not so insignificant bubbles are floating around in ch. 9, when Marianne is borne into Barton Cottage by Willoughby. Afterwards, she displays very strong symptoms of thinking herself in a fairy-tale, and Willoughby her knight in shining armour gentleman in a shooting jacket. Some of the adjectives used to describe him are intensified and qualified by 'so' or 'uncommonly' or 'more', while others are emphasised through repetition: 'manly', 'beauty', 'elegance'.

'his appearance... manner so frank and so graceful, that his person, which was uncommonly handsome, received additional charms from his voice and expression....the influence of youth, beauty, and elegance....

His manly beauty... more than common gracefulness.... His person and air were equal to what her fancy had ever drawn for the hero of a favourite story; and in his carrying her into the house with so little previous formality, there was a rapidity of thought which particularly recommended the action to her. Every circumstance belonging to him was interesting. His name was good, his residence was in their favourite village, and she soon found out that of all manly dresses a shooting-jacket was the most becoming.'

These smaller bubbles coalesce in chapter 10, however, where Marianne's metaphorical breathlessness and starry eyes are very evident. She is not in love with Willoughby (yet!) at this point, but she is in love with her idea of him. In the following passage, as the last sentence makes clear, they are carrying on like a pair of, well, (almost) lovers.

'But when this passed away, when her spirits became collected -- when she saw that to the perfect good-breeding of the gentleman, he united frankness and vivacity, and, above all, when she heard him declare that of music and dancing he was passionately fond, she gave him such a look of approbation as secured the largest share of his discourse to herself for the rest of his stay.

It was only necessary to mention any favourite amusement to engage her to talk. She could not be silent when such points were introduced, and she had neither shyness nor reserve in their discussion. They speedily discovered that their enjoyment of dancing and music was mutual, and that it arose from a general conformity of judgment in all that related to either. Encouraged by this to a further examination of his opinions, she proceeded to question him on the subject of books; her favourite authors were brought forward and dwelt upon with so rapturous a delight, that any young man of five-and-twenty must have been insensible indeed, not to become an immediate convert to the excellence of such works, however disregarded before. Their taste was strikingly alike. The same books, the same passages were idolized by each -- or, if any difference appeared, any objection arose, it lasted no longer than till the force of her arguments and the brightness of her eyes could be displayed. He acquiesced in all her decisions, caught all her enthusiasm, and long before his visit concluded, they conversed with the familiarity of a long-established acquaintance.'