Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

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it was only her own conscience that could fancy any;
all the reason she had to bless the kindness which saved her from the same spirit of reproach, exerted on a more momentous subject.
she had done right:
her judgment had not misled her. For the purity of her intentions she could answer;
her uncle's displeasure was abating, and would abate farther as he considered the matter with more impartiality, and felt, as a good man must feel, how wretched, and how unpardonable, how hopeless, and how wicked it was to marry without affection.
When the meeting with which she was threatened for the morrow was past, she could not but flatter herself that the subject would be finally concluded, and Mr. Crawford once gone from Mansfield,
everything would soon be as if no such subject had existed. She would not, could not believe, that Mr. Crawford's affection for her could distress him long; his mind was not of that sort. London would soon bring its cure. In London he would soon learn to wonder at his infatuation, and be thankful for the right reason in her which had saved him from its evil consequences.
she did love him, though she might not know it herself;
he should be able in time to make those feelings what he wished.
He would not despair: he would not desist. He had every well-grounded reason for solid attachment; he knew her to have all the worth that could justify the warmest hopes of lasting happiness with her;
her rather as one who had never thought on the subject enough to be in danger; who had been guarded by youth, a youth of mind as lovely as of person; whose modesty had prevented her from understanding his attentions, and who was still overpowered by the suddenness of addresses so wholly unexpected, and the novelty of a situation which her fancy had never taken into account.
Must it not follow of course, that, when he was understood, he should succeed?
Love such as his, in a man like himself, must with perseverance secure a return, and at no great distance;
how he could, after such language from her as she felt herself obliged to use, was not to be understood.
she did not love him, could not love him, was sure she never should love him;
such a change was quite impossible;
the subject was most painful to her;
she must entreat him never to mention it again, to allow her to leave him at once, and let it be considered as concluded for ever.
in her opinion their dispositions were so totally dissimilar as to make mutual affection incompatible; and that they were unfitted for each other by nature, education, and habit.
there being anything uncongenial in their characters, or anything unfriendly in their situations; and positively declared, that he would still love, and still hope!
She must be courteous, and she must be compassionate.
a perseverance so selfish and ungenerous. Here was again a want of delicacy and regard for others which had formerly so struck and disgusted her. Here was again a something of the same Mr. Crawford whom she had so reprobated before. How evidently was there a gross want of feeling and humanity where his own pleasure was concerned; and alas! how always known no principle to supply as a duty what the heart was deficient in! Had her own affections been as free as perhaps they ought to have been, he never could have engaged them.
too great indulgence and luxury of a fire upstairs:
her being never under any circumstances able to love Mr. Crawford,
how much of the truth was unknown to him, she believed she had no right to wonder at the line of conduct he pursued. He, who had married a daughter to Mr. Rushworth: romantic delicacy was certainly not to be expected from him. She must do her duty, and trust that time might make her duty easier than it now was.
She could not,
suppose Mr. Crawford's attachment would hold out for ever; she could not but imagine that steady, unceasing discouragement from herself would put an end to it in time.
If her aunt's feelings were against her, nothing could be hoped from attacking her understanding.
He had concluded —he had meant them to be far distant. His absence had been extended beyond a fortnight purposely to avoid Miss Crawford.
They sat so much longer than usual in the dining-parlour, that she was sure they must be talking of her;
hoping, and
believing, that it would be a match at last, and
united by mutual affection, it would appear that their dispositions were as exactly fitted to make them blessed in each other,
Crawford had been too precipitate. He had not given her time to attach herself. He had begun at the wrong end. With such powers as his, however, and such a disposition as hers, Edmund trusted that everything would work out a happy conclusion.
Fanny was worth it all;
worth every effort of patience, every exertion of mind, but he did not think he could have gone on himself with any woman breathing, without something more to warm his courage than his eyes could discern in hers.
If Lady Bertram, with all her incompetency and languor, could feel this, the inference of what her niece, alive and enlightened as she was, must feel, was elevating.
such a ready comprehension of a hint,
was rather favourable than not.
the too common neglect of the qualification, the total inattention to it, in the ordinary school-system for boys, the consequently natural, yet in some instances almost unnatural, degree of ignorance and uncouthness of men, of sensible and well-informed men, when suddenly called to the necessity of reading aloud, which had fallen within their notice, giving instances of blunders, and failures with their secondary causes, the want of management of the voice, of proper modulation and emphasis, of foresight and judgment, all proceeding from the first cause: want of early attention and habit;
his opinion and give his own as to the properest manner in which particular passages in the service should be delivered,
This would be the way to Fanny's heart. She was not to be won by all that gallantry and wit and good-nature together could do; or, at least, she would not be won by them nearly so soon, without the assistance of sentiment and feeling, and seriousness on serious subjects.
to know her meaning;
it was to be a very thorough attack,
looks and undertones were to be well tried,
dear little Fanny might be persuaded into explaining away that shake of the head to the satisfaction of her ardent lover;
he inclined to hope that so much could not have been said and listened to without some profit to the speaker.
it belonged entirely to Fanny to chuse whether her situation with regard to Crawford should be mentioned between them or not; and
if she did not lead the way, it should never be touched on by him;
She had been used to consult him in every difficulty, and he loved her too well to bear to be denied her confidence now; he hoped to be of service to her, he thought he must be of service to her; whom else had she to open her heart to? If she did not need counsel, she must need the comfort of communication. Fanny estranged from him, silent and reserved, was an unnatural state of things; a state which he must break through,