Austen Said:

how her mother would take it;

whether all his wealth and grandeur would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to her sense;

Mr. Darcy should hear the first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her disapprobation.

but he was going to be made unhappy; and that it should be through her means — that she, his favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her —

her former opinions had been more reasonable, her expressions more moderate!

Mr. Darcy was really the object of her choice,

the gradual change which her estimation of him had undergone,

her absolute certainty that his affection was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many months' suspense,

what Mr. Darcy had voluntarily done for Lydia.

Every thing was too recent for gaiety,

there was no longer anything material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiarity would come in time.

such an effusion was heard only by herself,

though in the certain possession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations' consent, there was still something to be wished for.

they should be removed from society so little pleasing to either, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party at Pemberley.

Elizabeth had much rather not,

by the practice of what might be called economy in her own private expences,

such an income as theirs, under the direction of two persons so extravagant in their wants, and heedless of the future, must be very insufficient to their support;

being still quite as handsome as ever,

her approach to the years of danger,

being properly solicited by baronet-blood within the next twelvemonth or two.

extremely agreeable,

only in him a proper match for Sir Walter Elliot's eldest daughter.

The disgrace of his first marriage might, perhaps, as there was no reason to suppose it perpetuated by offspring, have been got over, had he not done worse; but he had,

spoken most disrespectfully of them all, most slightingly and contemptuously of the very blood he belonged to, and the honours which were hereafter to be his own.

This could not be pardoned.

that when he now took up the Baronetage, it was to drive the heavy bills of his tradespeople, and the unwelcome hints of Mr Shepherd, his agent, from his thoughts.

what could be done,

to cut off some unnecessary charities, and to refrain from new furnishing the drawing-room;

their taking no present down to Anne,

independent of his claims as an old acquaintance, an attentive neighbour, an obliging landlord, the husband of her very dear friend, the father of Anne and her sisters, was, as being Sir Walter,

entitled to a great deal of compassion and consideration under his present difficulties.

They must retrench; that did not admit of a doubt.

to have it done with the least possible pain to him and Elizabeth.

as an act of indispensable duty to clear away the claims of creditors with all the expedition which the most comprehensive retrenchments could secure,

saw no dignity in anything short of it.

it to be prescribed, and felt as a duty.

there might be little more difficulty in persuading them to a complete, than to half a reformation.

the sacrifice of one pair of horses would be hardly less painful than of both,

A small house in their own neighbourhood, where they might still have Lady Russell's society, still be near Mary, and still have the pleasure of sometimes seeing the lawns and groves of Kellynch,

it agreed with her;

to oppose her dear Anne's known wishes. It would be too much to expect Sir Walter to descend into a small house in his own neighbourhood. Anne herself would have found the mortifications of it more than she foresaw, and to Sir Walter's feelings they must have been dreadful. And with regard to Anne's dislike of Bath,

it as a prejudice and mistake arising, first, from the circumstance of her having been three years at school there, after her mother's death; and secondly, from her happening to be not in perfectly good spirits the only winter which she had afterwards spent there with herself.

as to her young friend's health, by passing all the warm months with her at Kellynch Lodge, every danger would be avoided; and it was in fact, a change which must do both health and spirits good. Anne had been too little from home, too little seen. Her spirits were not high. A larger society would improve them. She wanted her to be more known.

a friendship quite out of place,

turning from the society of so deserving a sister, to bestow her affection and confidence on one who ought to have been nothing to her but the object of distant civility.

From situation, Mrs Clay was,

a very unequal, and in her character

a very dangerous companion; and a removal that would leave Mrs Clay behind, and bring a choice of more suitable intimates within Miss Elliot's reach, was therefore an object of first-rate importance.

as a most unfortunate one.

Anne Elliot, with all her claims of birth, beauty, and mind, to throw herself away at nineteen; involve herself at nineteen in an engagement with a young man, who had nothing but himself to recommend him, and no hopes of attaining affluence, but in the chances of a most uncertain profession, and no connexions to secure even his farther rise in the profession, would be, indeed, a throwing away, which she grieved to think of! Anne Elliot, so young; known to so few, to be snatched off by a stranger without alliance or fortune; or rather sunk by him into a state of most wearing, anxious, youth-killing dependence! It must not be, if by any fair interference of friendship, any representations from one who had almost a mother's love, and mother's rights, it would be prevented.