Austen Said:

the situation, the walk to Highbury, Highbury itself, Hartfield still more, and

to have always felt the sort of interest in the country which none but one's own country gives, and the greatest curiosity to visit it.

That he should never have been able to indulge so amiable a feeling before,

whether the same suspicion of what might be expected from their knowing each other, which had taken strong possession of her mind, had ever crossed his;

whether his compliments were to be considered as marks of acquiescence, or proofs of defiance.

If he were deficient there, nothing should make amends for it.

It was not merely in fine words or hyperbolical compliment that he paid his duty; nothing could be more proper or pleasing than his whole manner to her —nothing could more agreeably denote his wish of considering her as a friend and securing her affection.

with such feelings as were now shewn, it could not be fairly supposed that he had been ever voluntarily absenting himself; that he had not been acting a part, or making a parade of insincere professions; and that Mr. Knightley certainly had not done him justice.

No, it was long enough, broad enough, handsome enough. It would hold the very number for comfort. They ought to have balls there at least every fortnight through the winter. Why had not Miss Woodhouse revived the former good old days of the room?—She who could do any thing in Highbury! The want of proper families in the place, and the conviction that none beyond the place and its immediate environs could be tempted to attend, were mentioned; but he was not satisfied.

could not be persuaded that so many good-looking houses as he saw around him, could not furnish numbers enough for such a meeting;

He seemed to have all the life and spirit, cheerful feelings, and social inclinations of his father, and nothing of the pride or reserve of Enscombe. Of pride, indeed, there was, perhaps, scarcely enough; his indifference to a confusion of rank, bordered too much on inelegance of mind. He could be no judge, however, of the evil he was holding cheap. It was but an effusion of lively spirits.

if he had paid it.

he had heard many people say the same—but yet he must confess, that to him nothing could make amends for the want of the fine glow of health. Where features were indifferent, a fine complexion gave beauty to them all; and where they were good, the effect was— fortunately he need not attempt to describe what the effect was.

He was not exactly what she had expected; less of the man of the world in some of his notions, less of the spoiled child of fortune, therefore better than she had expected. His ideas seemed more moderate —his feelings warmer.

No, he could not believe it a bad house; not such a house as a man was to be pitied for having. If it were to be shared with the woman he loved, he could not think any man to be pitied for having that house. There must be ample room in it for every real comfort. The man must be a blockhead who wanted more.

he did know what he was talking about, and

he shewed a very amiable inclination to settle early in life, and to marry, from worthy motives. He might not be aware of the inroads on domestic peace to be occasioned by no housekeeper's room, or a bad butler's pantry, but no doubt he did perfectly feel that Enscombe could not make him happy, and that whenever he were attached, he would willingly give up much of wealth to be allowed an early establishment.

There was certainly no harm in his travelling sixteen miles twice over on such an errand; but there was an air of foppery and nonsense in it which she could not approve. It did not accord with the rationality of plan, the moderation in expense, or even the unselfish warmth of heart, which

to discern in him yesterday. Vanity, extravagance, love of change, restlessness of temper, which must be doing something, good or bad; heedlessness as to the pleasure of his father and Mrs. Weston, indifferent as to how his conduct might appear in general; he became liable to all these charges.

Frank admired her extremely —thought her very beautiful and very charming;

The regular and best families

they would presume to invite— neither Donwell, nor Hartfield, nor Randalls. Nothing should tempt her to go, if they did; and she regretted that her father's known habits would be giving her refusal less meaning than she could wish. The Coles were very respectable in their way, but they ought to be taught that it was not for them to arrange the terms on which the superior families would visit them. This lesson, she very much feared, they would receive only from herself; she had little hope of Mr. Knightley, none of Mr. Weston.

she should like to have had the power of refusal;

she did not know that she might not have been tempted to accept.

Might not the evening end in a dance?

what they advised her to do,

considering every thing, she was not absolutely without inclination for the party. The Coles expressed themselves so properly— there was so much real attention in the manner of it —so much consideration for her father.

how certainly Mrs. Goddard, if not Mrs. Bates, might be depended on for bearing him company—

As for his going, Emma did not wish him to think it possible, the hours would be too late, and the party too numerous.

There she sat— and who would have guessed how many tears she had been lately shedding?

To be in company, nicely dressed herself and seeing others nicely dressed, to sit and smile and look pretty, and say nothing, was enough for the happiness of the present hour.

Jane Fairfax did look and move superior; but Emma suspected she might have been glad to change feelings with Harriet, very glad to have purchased the mortification of having loved— yes, of having loved even Mr. Elton in vain— by the surrender of all the dangerous pleasure of knowing herself beloved by the husband of her friend.

what every body present must be thinking. She was his object, and every body must perceive it.

he had been impatient to leave the dining-room— hated sitting long —was always the first to move when he could—

his father, Mr. Knightley, Mr. Cox, and Mr. Cole, were left very busy over parish business—

as long as he had staid, however, it had been pleasant enough, as he had found them in general a set of gentlemanlike, sensible men;

so abundant in agreeable families

the society in Yorkshire —the extent of the neighbourhood about Enscombe, and the sort;

as far as Enscombe was concerned, there was very little going on,

their visitings were among a range of great families, none very near; and

even when days were fixed, and invitations accepted, it was an even chance that Mrs. Churchill were not in health and spirits for going;

they made a point of visiting no fresh person; and

though he had his separate engagements, it was not without difficulty, without considerable address at times, that he could get away, or introduce an acquaintance for a night.

Enscombe could not satisfy, and

Highbury, taken at its best, might reasonably please a young man who had more retirement at home than he liked. His importance at Enscombe was very evident. He did not boast, but it naturally betrayed itself, that he had persuaded his aunt where his uncle could do nothing,

he believed (excepting one or two points) he could with time persuade her to any thing.

He had wanted very much to go abroad—— had been very eager indeed to be allowed to travel—— but she would not hear of it. This had happened the year before. Now,

he was beginning to have no longer the same wish.

he could listen to her for ever.

he knew nothing of the matter, and had no voice at all,