Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

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"if I must speak on this subject, there is no denying that Mr. Frank Churchill might have —I do not mean to say that he did not dream it— I am sure I have sometimes the oddest dreams in the world— but if I am questioned about it, I must acknowledge that there was such an idea last spring; for Mrs. Perry herself mentioned it to my mother, and the Coles knew of it as well as ourselves—but it was quite a secret, known to nobody else, and only thought of about three days. Mrs. Perry was very anxious that he should have a carriage, and came to my mother in great spirits one morning because she thought she had prevailed. Jane, don't you remember grandmama's telling us of it when we got home? I forget where we had been walking to— very likely to Randalls; yes, I think it was to Randalls. Mrs. Perry was always particularly fond of my mother —indeed I do not know who is not —and she had mentioned it to her in confidence; she had no objection to her telling us, of course, but it was not to go beyond: and, from that day to this, I never mentioned it to a soul that I know of. At the same time, I will not positively answer for my having never dropt a hint, because I know I do sometimes pop out a thing before I am aware. I am a talker, you know; I am rather a talker; and now and then I have let a thing escape me which I should not. I am not like Jane; I wish I were. I will answer for it she never betrayed the least thing in the world. Where is she?—Oh! just behind. Perfectly remember Mrs. Perry's coming.—Extraordinary dream, indeed!"
"I did not know that proper names were allowed,"
"Aye, very true, my dear,"
"I was just going to say the same thing. It is time for us to be going indeed. The evening is closing in, and grandmama will be looking for us. My dear sir, you are too obliging. We really must wish you good night."
"Is not this most vexatious, Knightley?"
"And such weather for exploring!—These delays and disappointments are quite odious. What are we to do?—The year will wear away at this rate, and nothing done. Before this time last year I assure you we had had a delightful exploring party from Maple Grove to Kings Weston."
"Oh! I should like it of all things,"
"You may depend upon me,"
"I certainly will come. Name your day, and I will come. You will allow me to bring Jane Fairfax?"
"Oh! leave all that to me. Only give me a carte-blanche.—I am Lady Patroness, you know. It is my party. I will bring friends with me."
"Oh! now you are looking very sly. But consider —you need not be afraid of delegating power to me. I am no young lady on her preferment. Married women, you know, may be safely authorised. It is my party. Leave it all to me. I will invite your guests."
"—Mrs. Weston, I suppose,"
"Ah! you are an odd creature!"
"You are a humourist, and may say what you like. Quite a humourist. Well, I shall bring Jane with me— Jane and her aunt.—The rest I leave to you. I have no objections at all to meeting the Hartfield family. Don't scruple. I know you are attached to them."
"That's quite unnecessary; I see Jane every day:—but as you like. It is to be a morning scheme, you know, Knightley; quite a simple thing. I shall wear a large bonnet, and bring one of my little baskets hanging on my arm. Here,—probably this basket with pink ribbon. Nothing can be more simple, you see. And Jane will have such another. There is to be no form or parade— a sort of gipsy party. We are to walk about your gardens, and gather the strawberries ourselves, and sit under trees;—and whatever else you may like to provide, it is to be all out of doors— a table spread in the shade, you know. Every thing as natural and simple as possible. Is not that your idea?"
"Well —as you please; only don't have a great set out. And, by the bye, can I or my housekeeper be of any use to you with our opinion?—Pray be sincere, Knightley. If you wish me to talk to Mrs. Hodges, or to inspect anything —"
"Well—but if any difficulties should arise, my housekeeper is extremely clever."
"I wish we had a donkey. The thing would be for us all to come on donkeys, Jane, Miss Bates, and me—and my caro sposo walking by. I really must talk to him about purchasing a donkey. In a country life I conceive it to be a sort of necessary; for, let a woman have ever so many resources, it is not possible for her to be always shut up at home;—and very long walks, you know— in summer there is dust, and in winter there is dirt."
"That I am sure you would. Indeed I do you justice, my good friend. Under that peculiar sort of dry, blunt manner, I know you have the warmest heart. As I tell Mr. E., you are a thorough humourist.—Yes, believe me, Knightley, I am fully sensible of your attention to me in the whole of this scheme. You have hit upon the very thing to please me."
"Should not they walk? Would not Mr. Knightley shew them the gardens— all the gardens?—She wished to see the whole extent."—
"Will you be so kind,"
"when I am missed, as to say that I am gone home?—I am going this moment.—My aunt is not aware how late it is, nor how long we have been absent—but I am sure we shall be wanted, and I am determined to go directly.—I have said nothing about it to any body. It would only be giving trouble and distress. Some are gone to the ponds, and some to the lime walk. Till they all come in I shall not be missed; and when they do, will you have the goodness to say that I am gone?"
"Yes— what should hurt me?—I walk fast. I shall be at home in twenty minutes."
"Thank you, thank you —but on no account.—I would rather walk.—And for me to be afraid of walking alone!—I, who may so soon have to guard others!"
"I am,"—
"I am fatigued; but it is not the sort of fatigue—quick walking will refresh me.—Miss Woodhouse, we all know at times what it is to be wearied in spirits. Mine, I confess, are exhausted. The greatest kindness you can shew me, will be to let me have my own way, and only say that I am gone when it is necessary."
"Oh! Miss Woodhouse, the comfort of being sometimes alone!"—
"It is a sort of thing,"
"which I should not have thought myself privileged to inquire into. Though, perhaps, as the Chaperon of the party —I never was in any circle— exploring parties— young ladies— married women —"
"Very true, my love, very true. Exactly so, indeed —quite unheard of — —but some ladies say any thing. Better pass it off as a joke. Every body knows what is due to you."
"Oh! very well,"
"then I need not be uneasy.
That will just do for me, you know. I shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth, shan't I?
Do not you all think I shall?"
"Ah!—well— to be sure. Yes, I see what she means,
and I will try to hold my tongue. I must make myself very disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old friend."
"Oh! for myself, I protest I must be excused,"
"I really cannot attempt —I am not at all fond of the sort of thing. I had an acrostic once sent to me upon my own name, which I was not at all pleased with. I knew who it came from. An abominable puppy!—You know who I mean
These kind of things are very well at Christmas, when one is sitting round the fire; but quite out of place, in my opinion, when one is exploring about the country in summer. Miss Woodhouse must excuse me. I am not one of those who have witty things at every body's service. I do not pretend to be a wit. I have a great deal of vivacity in my own way, but I really must be allowed to judge when to speak and when to hold my tongue. Pass us, if you please, Mr. Churchill. Pass Mr. E., Knightley, Jane, and myself. We have nothing clever to say —not one of us.
"Yes, yes, pray pass me,"
"I have nothing to say that can entertain Miss Woodhouse, or any other young lady. An old married man—quite good for nothing. Shall we walk, Augusta?"
"With all my heart. I am really tired of exploring so long on one spot. Come, Jane, take my other arm."
"Such things do occur, undoubtedly."—
"I was only going to observe, that though such unfortunate circumstances do sometimes occur both to men and women, I cannot imagine them to be very frequent. A hasty and imprudent attachment may arise—but there is generally time to recover from it afterwards. I would be understood to mean, that it can be only weak, irresolute characters, (whose happiness must be always at the mercy of chance,) who will suffer an unfortunate acquaintance to be an inconvenience, an oppression for ever."
"Now, ma'am,"
"shall we join Mrs. Elton?"
"If you please, my dear. With all my heart. I am quite ready. I was ready to have gone with her, but this will do just as well. We shall soon overtake her. There she is—no, that's somebody else. That's one of the ladies in the Irish car party, not at all like her.—Well, I declare—"
"Well, my dear, I shall say you are laid down upon the bed, and I am sure you are ill enough."
"I am afraid Jane is not very well,"
"but I do not know; they tell me she is well. I dare say my daughter will be here presently, Miss Woodhouse. I hope you find a chair. I wish Hetty had not gone. I am very little able —Have you a chair, ma'am? Do you sit where you like? I am sure she will be here presently."