Austen Said:

Things should take their course; she cared not how it ended. Her cousins might attack, but could hardly tease her. She was beyond their reach; and if at last obliged to yield— no matter —it was all misery now.

for it was Miss Crawford to whom she was obliged— it was Miss Crawford whose kind exertions were to excite her gratitude, and whose merit in making them was spoken of with a glow of admiration. She was safe; but peace and safety were unconnected here.

anything would have been preferable to this. Mrs. Grant was of consequence: her good-nature had honourable mention; her taste and her time were considered; her presence was wanted; she was sought for, and attended, and praised;

she received even the greatest,

she could never have been easy in joining a scheme which, considering only her uncle, she must condemn altogether.

Everybody had a part either too long or too short; nobody would attend as they ought; nobody would remember on which side they were to come in; nobody but the complainer would observe any directions.

she could not, would not, dared not attempt it:

to believe their performance would, indeed, have such nature and feeling in it as must ensure their credit, and make it a very suffering exhibition to herself.

Whatever might be its effect, however, she must stand the brunt of it again that very day.

Why was not Miss Crawford to be applied to as well? Or why had not she rather gone to her own room, as she had felt to be safest, instead of attending the rehearsal at all? She had known it would irritate and distress her; she had known it her duty to keep away. She was properly punished.

She would do her best.

He had never been so kind, so very kind to her in his life. His manner seemed changed, his voice was quick from the agitation of joy; and all that had been awful in his dignity seemed lost in tenderness.

her wishing very much to hear it,

her having never yet heard it since its being in Mansfield.

he did mean to go with her. He too was taking leave.

for what was it after all whether she went or staid? but if her uncle were to be a great while considering and deciding, and with very grave looks, and those grave looks directed to her, and at last decide against her, she might not be able to appear properly submissive and indifferent.

she was very much obliged to her aunt Bertram for sparing her,

she was endeavouring to put her aunt's evening work in such a state as to prevent her being missed.

she had never played the game nor seen it played in her life;

what it would be not to see Edmund every day;

"how she should be dressed"

the almost solitary ornament in her possession, a very pretty amber cross which William had brought her from Sicily,

for she had nothing but a bit of ribbon to fasten it to; and though she had worn it in that manner once, would it be allowable at such a time in the midst of all the rich ornaments which she supposed all the other young ladies would appear in? And yet not to wear it! William had wanted to buy her a gold chain too, but the purchase had been beyond his means, and therefore not to wear the cross might be mortifying him.

if she would be so kind as to give her opinion, it might be all talked over as well without doors as within.

she did not know how either to wear the cross, or to refrain from wearing it.

The gift was too valuable.

she might not be accused of pride or indifference, or some other littleness;

to know which might be least valuable;

But this was an unworthy feeling.

Miss Crawford had anticipated her wants with a kindness which proved her a real friend.

To take what had been the gift of another person, of a brother too, impossible! it must not be!

He evidently tried to please her: he was gallant, he was attentive, he was something like what he had been to her cousins: he wanted, she supposed, to cheat her of her tranquillity as he had cheated them; and whether he might not have some concern in this necklace— she could not be convinced that he had not,

for Miss Crawford, complaisant as a sister, was careless as a woman and a friend.

Fanny could not but admit the superior power of one pleasure over his own mind, though it might have its drawback.

She was one of his two dearest— that must support her.

But the other: the first!

She had never heard him speak so openly before, and though it told her no more than what she had long perceived, it was a stab, for it told of his own convictions and views.

They were decided. He would marry Miss Crawford.

she was one of his two dearest,

Could she believe Miss Crawford to deserve him, it would be— oh, how different would it be —how far more tolerable! But he was deceived in her: he gave her merits which she had not; her faults were what they had ever been, but he saw them no longer.

To call or to fancy it a loss, a disappointment, would be a presumption for which she had not words strong enough to satisfy her own humility.

To think of him as Miss Crawford might be justified in thinking, would in her be insanity. To her he could be nothing under any circumstances; nothing dearer than a friend. Why did such an idea occur to her even enough to be reprobated and forbidden? It ought not to have touched on the confines of her imagination. She would endeavour to be rational, and to deserve the right of judging of Miss Crawford's character, and the privilege of true solicitude for him by a sound intellect and an honest heart.

for the original plan was that William should go up by the mail from Northampton the following night, which would not have allowed him an hour's rest before he must have got into a Portsmouth coach; and though this offer of Mr. Crawford's would rob her of many hours of his company, she was too happy in having William spared from the fatigue of such a journey,

To dance without much observation or any extraordinary fatigue, to have strength and partners for about half the evening, to dance a little with Edmund, and not a great deal with Mr. Crawford, to see William enjoy himself, and be able to keep away from her aunt Norris,

it had been about the same hour that she had returned from the Parsonage, and found Edmund in the East room.

he had soon ceased to think of her countenance. He did not appear in spirits: something unconnected with her was probably amiss.

The ball, too such an evening of pleasure before her!

those dearest tokens

Miss Crawford had a claim; and when it was no longer to encroach on, to interfere with the stronger claims, the truer kindness of another, she could do her justice even with pleasure to herself.

The necklace really looked very well;