Austen Said:

"And so she is to come to us next Friday or Saturday, and the Campbells leave town in their way to Holyhead the Monday following—as you will find from Jane's letter. So sudden!—You may guess, dear Miss Woodhouse, what a flurry it has thrown me in! If it was not for the drawback of her illness —but I am afraid we must expect to see her grown thin, and looking very poorly. I must tell you what an unlucky thing happened to me, as to that. I always make a point of reading Jane's letters through to myself first, before I read them aloud to my mother, you know, for fear of there being any thing in them to distress her. Jane desired me to do it, so I always do: and so I began to-day with my usual caution; but no sooner did I come to the mention of her being unwell, than I burst out, quite frightened, with 'Bless me! poor Jane is ill!'—which my mother, being on the watch, heard distinctly, and was sadly alarmed at. However, when I read on, I found it was not near so bad as I had fancied at first; and I make so light of it now to her, that she does not think much about it. But I cannot imagine how I could be so off my guard. If Jane does not get well soon, we will call in Mr. Perry. The expense shall not be thought of; and though he is so liberal, and so fond of Jane that I dare say he would not mean to charge any thing for attendance, we could not suffer it to be so, you know. He has a wife and family to maintain, and is not to be giving away his time. Well, now I have just given you a hint of what Jane writes about, we will turn to her letter, and I am sure she tells her own story a great deal better than I can tell it for her."

"I am afraid we must be running away,"

"My father will be expecting us. I had no intention, I thought I had no power of staying more than five minutes, when I first entered the house. I merely called, because I would not pass the door without inquiring after Mrs. Bates; but I have been so pleasantly detained! Now, however, we must wish you and Mrs. Bates good morning."

to have to pay civilities to a person she did not like through three long months!—to be always doing more than she wished, and less than she ought!

"she could never get acquainted with her: she did not know how it was, but there was such coldness and reserve— such apparent indifference whether she pleased or not —and then, her aunt was such an eternal talker!—and she was made such a fuss with by every body!—and it had been always imagined that they were to be so intimate—because their ages were the same, every body had supposed they must be so fond of each other."

the very appearance and manners, which for those two whole years she had been depreciating. Jane Fairfax was very elegant, remarkably elegant; and she had herself the highest value for elegance. Her height was pretty, just such as almost every body would think tall, and nobody could think very tall; her figure particularly graceful; her size a most becoming medium, between fat and thin, though a slight appearance of ill-health seemed to point out the likeliest evil of the two.

and then, her face— her features —there was more beauty in them altogether than she had remembered; it was not regular, but it was very pleasing beauty.

It was a style of beauty, of which elegance was the reigning character, and as such, she must, in honour, by all her principles, admire it:—elegance, which, whether of person or of mind, she saw so little in Highbury. There, not to be vulgar, was distinction, and merit.

she would dislike her no longer. When she took in her history, indeed, her situation, as well as her beauty; when she considered what all this elegance was destined to, what she was going to sink from, how she was going to live, it seemed impossible to feel any thing but compassion and respect; especially, if to every well-known particular entitling her to interest, were added the highly probable circumstance of an attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she had so naturally started to herself. In that case, nothing could be more pitiable or more honourable than the sacrifices she had resolved on.

If it were love, it might be simple, single, successless love on her side alone. She might have been unconsciously sucking in the sad poison, while a sharer of his conversation with her friend; and from the best, the purest of motives, might now be denying herself this visit to Ireland, and resolving to divide herself effectually from him and his connexions by soon beginning her career of laborious duty.

"She certainly is handsome; she is better than handsome!"

She was, besides, which was the worst of all, so cold, so cautious! There was no getting at her real opinion. Wrapt up in a cloak of politeness, she seemed determined to hazard nothing. She was disgustingly, was suspiciously reserved.

There probably was something more to conceal than her own preference; Mr. Dixon, perhaps, had been very near changing one friend for the other, or been fixed only to Miss Campbell, for the sake of the future twelve thousand pounds.

"Was he handsome?"—

"She believed he was reckoned a very fine young man."

"Was he agreeable?"—

"He was generally thought so."

"Did he appear a sensible young man; a young man of information?"—

"At a watering-place, or in a common London acquaintance, it was difficult to decide on such points. Manners were all that could be safely judged of, under a much longer knowledge than they had yet had of Mr. Churchill. She believed every body found his manners pleasing."

Emma could not forgive her.

"I am happy you approved,"

"but I hope I am not often deficient in what is due to guests at Hartfield."

"Miss Fairfax is reserved."

"You think her diffident. I do not see it."

"Oh! no; I was pleased with my own perseverance in asking questions; and amused to think how little information I obtained."

"She is a sort of elegant creature that one cannot keep one's eyes from. I am always watching her to admire; and I do pity her from my heart."

"My dear papa, I sent the whole hind-quarter. I knew you would wish it. There will be the leg to be salted, you know, which is so very nice, and the loin to be dressed directly in any manner they like."

"News! Oh! yes, I always like news. What is it?—why do you smile so?—where did you hear it?—at Randalls?"

"Oh! my dear sir, how are you this morning? My dear Miss Woodhouse— I come quite over-powered. Such a beautiful hind-quarter of pork! You are too bountiful! Have you heard the news? Mr. Elton is going to be married."

"But where could you hear it?"

"Where could you possibly hear it, Mr. Knightley? For it is not five minutes since I received Mrs. Cole's note— no, it cannot be more than five—or at least ten —for I had got my bonnet and spencer on, just ready to come out —I was only gone down to speak to Patty again about the pork —Jane was standing in the passage— were not you, Jane?—for

my mother was so afraid that

we had not any salting-pan large enough.

So I said I would go down and see, and Jane said,

'Shall I go down instead? for I think you have a little cold, and Patty has been washing the kitchen.'—

'Oh! my dear,' said I—well, and just then came the note. A Miss Hawkins— that's all I know. A Miss Hawkins of Bath. But, Mr. Knightley, how could you possibly have heard it? for the very moment Mr. Cole told Mrs. Cole of it, she sat down and wrote to me. A Miss Hawkins—"

"Well! that is quite —I suppose there never was a piece of news more generally interesting. My dear sir, you really are too bountiful.

My mother desires

her very best compliments and regards, and a thousand thanks, and

says

you really quite oppress her."

"Oh! my dear sir,

as my mother says,

our friends are only too good to us.

If ever there were people who, without having great wealth themselves, had every thing they could wish for, I am sure it is us. We may well say that 'our lot is cast in a goodly heritage.' Well, Mr. Knightley, and so you actually saw the letter; well—"

"Mr. Elton going to be married!"

"He will have every body's wishes for his happiness."

"A new neighbour for us all, Miss Woodhouse!"

"my mother is so pleased!—

she says