Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

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“Is your sister at Pemberley still?”
“And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?”
“You are very cruel,”
“you will not let me smile, and are provoking me to it every moment.”
“But why should you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I acknowledge?”
“I must go instantly to my mother;”
“I would not on any account trifle with her affectionate solicitude; or allow her to hear it from anyone but myself. He is gone to my father already. Oh! Lizzy, to know that what I have to relate will give such pleasure to all my dear family! how shall I bear so much happiness!”
“And this,”
“is the end of all his friend's anxious circumspection! of all his sister's falsehood and contrivance! the happiest, wisest, most reasonable end!”
“With my mother up stairs. She will be down in a moment, I dare say.”
“I suspected as much,”
“But how did he account for it?”
“That is the most unforgiving speech,”
“that I ever heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again the dupe of Miss Bingley's pretended regard.”
“He made a little mistake to be sure; but it is to the credit of his modesty.”
“If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time.”
“Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honour of seeing you here.”
“If you believed it impossible to be true,”
“I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?”
“Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family,”
“I never heard that it was.”
“I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer.”
“Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible.”
“If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it.”
“But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this, ever induce me to be explicit.”
“Only this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me.”
“Yes, and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss de Bourgh. You both did as much as you could in planning the marriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither by honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?”
“These are heavy misfortunes,”
“But the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine.”
“That will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable; but it will have no effect on me.”
“In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter; so far we are equal.”
“Whatever my connections may be,”
“I am not.”
“I will make no promise of the kind.”
“And I certainly never shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise make their marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to me, would my refusing to accept his hand make him wish to bestow it on his cousin? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. How far your nephew might approve of your interference in his affairs, I cannot tell; but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject.”
“You can now have nothing further to say,”
“You have insulted me in every possible method. I must beg to return to the house.”
“Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to say. You know my sentiments.”
“I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.”
“Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude,” replied Elizabeth, “have any possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the resentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former were excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment's concern — and the world in general would have too much sense to join in the scorn.”
“She did not choose it,”
“she would go.”
“If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his promise should come to his friend within a few days,”
“I shall know how to understand it. I shall then give over every expectation, every wish of his constancy. If he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might have obtained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him at all.”
“From Mr. Collins! and what can he have to say?”
“Oh! yes. Pray read on.”
“Oh!”
“I am excessively diverted. But it is so strange!”
“You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”
“Yes, you know enough of my frankness to believe me capable of that. After abusing you so abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all your relations.”