Austen Said:

"Dear me! I should not have thought it possible you could forget what passed in this very room about court-plaister, one of the very last times we ever met in it!—It was but a very few days before I had my sore throat— just before Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley came— I think the very evening.—Do not you remember his cutting his finger with your new penknife, and your recommending court-plaister?—But, as you had none about you, and knew I had, you desired me to supply him; and so I took mine out and cut him a piece; but it was a great deal too large, and he cut it smaller, and kept playing some time with what was left, before he gave it back to me. And so then, in my nonsense, I could not help making a treasure of it—so I put it by never to be used, and looked at it now and then as a great treat."

"And had you really some at hand yourself? I am sure I never suspected it, you did it so naturally."

"Here,"

"here is something still more valuable, I mean that has been more valuable, because this is what did really once belong to him, which the court-plaister never did."

"This was really his,"

"Do not you remember one morning?—no, I dare say you do not. But one morning— I forget exactly the day —but perhaps it was the Tuesday or Wednesday before that evening, he wanted to make a memorandum in his pocket-book; it was about spruce-beer. Mr. Knightley had been telling him something about brewing spruce-beer, and he wanted to put it down; but when he took out his pencil, there was so little lead that he soon cut it all away, and it would not do, so you lent him another, and this was left upon the table as good for nothing. But I kept my eye on it; and, as soon as I dared, caught it up, and never parted with it again from that moment."

"Ah! I do not know. I cannot recollect.—It is very odd, but I cannot recollect.—Mr. Elton was sitting here, I remember, much about where I am now."—

"Oh! that's all. I have nothing more to shew you, or to say— except that I am now going to throw them both behind the fire, and I wish you to see me do it."

"Yes, simpleton as I was!—but I am quite ashamed of it now, and wish I could forget as easily as I can burn them. It was very wrong of me, you know, to keep any remembrances, after he was married. I knew it was—but had not resolution enough to part with them."

"I shall be happier to burn it,"

"It has a disagreeable look to me. I must get rid of every thing.—There it goes, and there is an end, thank Heaven! of Mr. Elton."

"I shall never marry."

"It is one that I shall never change, however."

"Mr. Elton indeed!"

"Oh! no"—

"so superior to Mr. Elton!"

"Oh! Miss Woodhouse, believe me I have not the presumption to suppose — Indeed I am not so mad.—But it is a pleasure to me to admire him at a distance—and to think of his infinite superiority to all the rest of the world, with the gratitude, wonder, and veneration, which are so proper, in me especially."

"Service! oh! it was such an inexpressible obligation!—The very recollection of it, and all that I felt at the time— when I saw him coming — —his noble look—and my wretchedness before. Such a change! In one moment such a change! From perfect misery to perfect happiness!"

"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."

"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?"

"Well, Miss Woodhouse!"

"is not this the oddest news that ever was?"

"About Jane Fairfax. Did you ever hear any thing so strange? Oh!—you need not be afraid of owning it to me, for Mr. Weston has told me himself. I met him just now.

He told me

and, therefore, I should not think of mentioning it to any body but you, but he said you knew it."

"Oh!

he told me all about it; that

that

How very odd!"

"Had you any idea,"

"of his being in love with her?—You, perhaps, might.—You

who can see into every body's heart; but nobody else—"

"Me!"

"Why should you caution me?—You do not think I care about Mr. Frank Churchill."

"Him!—never, never. Dear Miss Woodhouse, how could you so mistake me?"

"I should not have thought it possible,"

"that you could have misunderstood me! I know we agreed never to name him—but considering how infinitely superior he is to every body else, I should not have thought it possible that I could be supposed to mean any other person. Mr. Frank Churchill, indeed! I do not know who would ever look at him in the company of the other. I hope I have a better taste than to think of Mr. Frank Churchill, who is like nobody by his side. And that you should have been so mistaken, is amazing!—I am sure, but for believing that you entirely approved and meant to encourage me in my attachment, I should have considered it at first too great a presumption almost, to dare to think of him. At first,

if you had not told me that

that

(those were your very words);—I should not have dared to give way to— I should not have thought it possible— But if you, who had been always acquainted with him —"

"To be sure I am. I never could have an idea of any body else—and so I thought you knew. When we talked about him, it was as clear as possible."

"Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how you do forget!"

"Oh, dear,"

"now I recollect what you mean; but I was thinking of something very different at the time. It was not the gipsies— it was not Mr. Frank Churchill that I meant. No!

I was thinking of a much more precious circumstance— — of Mr. Knightley's coming and asking me to dance, when Mr. Elton would not stand up with me; and when there was no other partner in the room. That was the kind action; that was the noble benevolence and generosity; that was the service which made me begin to feel how superior he was to every other being upon earth."

"You would not have encouraged me, then, if you had understood me? At least, however, I cannot be worse off than I should have been, if the other had been the person; and now—it is possible—"

"I do not wonder, Miss Woodhouse,"

"that you should feel a great difference between the two, as to me or as to any body. You must think one five hundred million times more above me than the other. But I hope, Miss Woodhouse, that supposing —that if —strange as it may appear—. But you know

they were your own words, that