Austen Said:

— that Marianne's affliction, because more acknowledged, more immediately before her, had too much engrossed her tenderness, and led her away to forget that in Elinor she might have a daughter suffering almost as much, certainly with less self-provocation, and greater fortitude.

to hope that he had left Mrs. Ferrars very well.

"I suppose you have heard of the handsome letter Mr. Frank Churchill has written to Mrs. Weston? I understand it was a very handsome letter, indeed. Mr. Woodhouse told me of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw the letter, and

he says

'I know you cannot have heard from Jane lately, because it is not her time for writing;'

'Have you, upon your honour?'

'well, that is quite unexpected. Do let me hear what she says.'"

'Well, Hetty, now I think you will be put to it to make out all that checker-work'—

"One can suppose nothing else,"

"and I was only surprized that there could ever have been a doubt. But Jane, it seems, had a letter from them very lately, and not a word was said about it. She knows their ways best; but I should not consider their silence as any reason for their not meaning to make the present. They might chuse to surprize her."

"I declare, I do not know when I have heard any thing that has given me more satisfaction!—It always has quite hurt me that Jane Fairfax, who plays so delightfully, should not have an instrument. It seemed quite a shame, especially considering how many houses there are where fine instruments are absolutely thrown away. This is like giving ourselves a slap, to be sure! and it was but yesterday I was telling Mr. Cole, I really was ashamed to look at our new grand pianoforte in the drawing-room, while I do not know one note from another, and our little girls, who are but just beginning, perhaps may never make any thing of it; and there is poor Jane Fairfax, who is mistress of music, has not any thing of the nature of an instrument, not even the pitifullest old spinet in the world, to amuse herself with.—I was saying this to Mr. Cole but yesterday, and he quite agreed with me; only he is so particularly fond of music that he could not help indulging himself in the purchase, hoping that some of our good neighbours might be so obliging occasionally to put it to a better use than we can; and that really is the reason why the instrument was bought—or else I am sure we ought to be ashamed of it.—We are in great hopes that Miss Woodhouse may be prevailed with to try it this evening."

It was owing to her persuasion, as

his being out in bad weather did him a great deal of harm.

Her eldest was a boy of ten years old, a fine spirited fellow, who longed to be out in the world; but what could she do? Was there any chance of his being hereafter useful to Sir Thomas in the concerns of his West Indian property? No situation would be beneath him; or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent out to the East?

"I think we cannot do better,"

"let us send for the child."

"Where shall the child come to first, sister, to you or to us?"

"Then she had better come to us,"

"I hope she will not tease my poor pug,"

"I have but just got Julia to leave it alone."

"she could only say it was very unlucky, but some people were stupid, and Fanny must take more pains: she did not know what else was to be done; and, except her being so dull, she must add she saw no harm in the poor little thing, and always found her very handy and quick in carrying messages, and fetching what she wanted."

"So, Fanny, you are going to leave us, and live with my sister. How shall you like it?"

"Yes, my dear; why should you be astonished? You have been five years with us, and my sister always meant to take you when Mr. Norris died. But you must come up and tack on my patterns all the same."

"Yes, I dare say you will; that's natural enough. I suppose you have had as little to vex you since you came into this house as any creature in the world."

"No, my dear; I hope not. I have always found you a very good girl."

"Never, my dear; but you are sure of a comfortable home. It can make very little difference to you, whether you are in one house or the other."

"I think, sister, we need not keep Miss Lee any longer, when Fanny goes to live with you."

"Is she not to live with you? I thought you had settled it with Sir Thomas."

"Indeed, I do not know. I suppose he thought it best."

"No;

and I thought so too. We both thought it would be a comfort to you. But if you do not like it, there is no more to be said. She is no encumbrance here."

"Then you will not mind living by yourself quite alone?"

"I hope, sister, things are not so very bad with you neither- considering

"I dare say you will. You always do, don't you?"

"You are very good, but do not trouble yourself about them. They are sure of being well provided for. Sir Thomas will take care of that."

"Oh! that will soon be settled. Sir Thomas has been writing about it, I know."

against there being any hurry;

only wanted him to wait till Sir Thomas's return, and then Sir Thomas might settle it all himself. He would be at home in September, and where would be the harm of only waiting till September?

"Mr. Rushworth,"

"if I were you, I would have a very pretty shrubbery. One likes to get out into a shrubbery in fine weather."

"Yes, indeed, Edmund,"

"I was out above an hour. I sat three-quarters of an hour in the flower-garden, while Fanny cut the roses; and very pleasant it was, I assure you, but very hot. It was shady enough in the alcove, but I declare I quite dreaded the coming home again."

"Yes, and I am afraid they will be the last this year. Poor thing! She found it hot enough; but they were so full-blown that one could not wait."

"She has got it,"

"she has had it ever since she came back from your house the second time."

"I was afraid it would be too much for her,"

"but when the roses were gathered, your aunt wished to have them, and then you know they must be taken home."

"No; but they were to be put into the spare room to dry; and, unluckily, Fanny forgot to lock the door of the room and bring away the key, so she was obliged to go again."

"I am afraid it was, indeed,"

"I am very much afraid she caught the headache there, for the heat was enough to kill anybody. It was as much as I could bear myself. Sitting and calling to Pug, and trying to keep him from the flower-beds, was almost too much for me."