Austen Said:

He had followed her into the shrubbery with no idea of trying it. He had come, in his anxiety to see how she bore Frank Churchill's engagement, with no selfish view, no view at all, but of endeavouring, if she allowed him an opening, to soothe or to counsel her.—The rest had been the work of the moment, the immediate effect of what he heard, on his feelings. The delightful assurance of her total indifference towards Frank Churchill, of her having a heart completely disengaged from him, had given birth to the hope, that, in time, he might gain her affection himself;—but it had been no present hope— — he had only, in the momentary conquest of eagerness over judgment, aspired to be told that she did not forbid his attempt to attach her.—

The affection, which he had been asking to be allowed to create, if he could, was already his!—

there had been a long-standing jealousy, old as the arrival, or even the expectation, of Frank Churchill.—He had been in love with Emma, and jealous of Frank Churchill, from about the same period, one sentiment having probably enlightened him as to the other. It was his jealousy of Frank Churchill that had taken him from the country.—The Box Hill party had decided him on going away. He would save himself from witnessing again such permitted, encouraged attentions.—He had gone to learn to be indifferent.—But he had gone to a wrong place. There was too much domestic happiness in his brother's house; woman wore too amiable a form in it; Isabella was too much like Emma— differing only in those striking inferiorities, which always brought the other in brilliancy before him, for much to have been done, even had his time been longer.—He had stayed on, however, vigorously, day after day— till this very morning's post had conveyed the history of Jane Fairfax.—Then, with the gladness which must be felt, nay, which he did not scruple to feel, having never believed Frank Churchill to be at all deserving Emma, was there so much fond solicitude, so much keen anxiety for her, that he could stay no longer. He had ridden home through the rain; and had walked up directly after dinner, to see how this sweetest and best of all creatures, faultless in spite of all her faults, bore the discovery.

might not have taken cold from his ride.—

how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father.

The impossibility of her quitting her father,

as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!—No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness in other words his life—required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise.

no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself.

her to look up and smile;

James's being gone out to put the horses to, preparatory to their now daily drive to Randalls;

the comfortable persuasion of his being obliged to go to Randalls every day, or poor Mrs. Weston would be disappointed.

his own Jane,

commended her very much for thinking of sending for Perry, and only

she had not done it.

when once the event were over, his distress would be soon over too,

While either of them protected him and his, Hartfield was safe.—

it was a serious charge;—a girl so brought up must be adequately provided for, or there would be cruelty instead of kindness in taking her from her family.

his love to his cousin William,

His daughters, he felt, while they retained the name of Bertram, must be giving it new grace, and in quitting it, he trusted, would extend its respectable alliances; and the character of Edmund, his strong good sense and uprightness of mind, bid most fairly for utility, honour, and happiness to himself and all his connexions.

firstly,

secondly,

thirdly,

"no, he was a short-necked, apoplectic sort of fellow, and, plied well with good things, would soon pop off."

he hoped she might see William again in the course of the ensuing winter, and had charged her to write and invite him to Mansfield as soon as the squadron to which he belonged should be known to be in England.

He could allow his sister to be the best judge of her own happiness, but he was not pleased that her happiness should centre in a large income;

the marriage should not take place before his return, which he was again looking eagerly forward to.

had strong hopes of settling everything to his entire satisfaction, and leaving Antigua before the end of the summer.

feeling no disinclination to the state herself.

the harp as his favourite instrument,

be soon allowed to hear her.

request the favour of Mr. Crawford's assistance;

was quite at his service in any way that could be useful.

Mr. Crawford's doing him the honour of coming over to Sotherton, and taking a bed there;

the best fitted for a beginner that either stable could furnish.

whether she meant to ride the next day.

His own forgetfulness of her was worse than anything which they had done. Nothing of this would have happened had she been properly considered; but she had been left four days together without any choice of companions or exercise, and without any excuse for avoiding whatever her unreasonable aunts might require.

for four days together she had not had the power of riding,

however unwilling he must be to check a pleasure of Miss Crawford's, that it should never happen again.

her losses, both of health and pleasure, would be soon made good.

she need not distress herself on Mrs. Rushworth's account, because he had taken the opportunity, as he walked with her through the hall, of mentioning Miss Price as one who would probably be of the party, and had directly received a very sufficient invitation for his cousin,

the greater desirableness of some carriage which might convey more than two.

her remaining where she was

It was the very thing of all others to be wished, it was the best, it was the only way of proceeding with any advantage,

and he directly saw a knoll not half a mile off, which would give them exactly the requisite command of the house.

he had brought the key; he had been very near thinking whether he should not bring the key; he was determined he would never come without the key again;

he would go and fetch the key. He set off accordingly.

Edmund had wished for her very much,

he should certainly have come back for her, had she not been tired already;

to take Mansfield in his way, whenever he could,

that might not be thought of: he was very sure his sister had no wish of acting but as she might be useful,