Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

Search

Your search returned 2485 results



sex

character_type

marriage status

age

occupation

mode of speech

speaker name

Miss Crawford's power was all returning. He had been speaking of her cheerfully from the hour of his coming home. His avoiding her was quite at an end. He had dined at the Parsonage only the preceding day.
to forbear all farther discussion; and not even to mention the name of Crawford again, except as it might be connected with what must be agreeable to her.
It had been, as he before presumed, too hasty a measure on Crawford's side, and time must be given to make the idea first familiar, and then agreeable to her. She must be used to the consideration of his being in love with her, and then a return of affection might not be very distant.
there being nothing more said to her: no farther attempts to influence or persuade; but that everything should be left to Crawford's assiduities, and the natural workings of her own mind.
Her secret was still her own; and while that was the case,
she could resign herself to almost everything.
she might never see him again till he were the husband of some other woman.
thought his father a little unreasonable in supposing the first three or four days could produce any.
Crawford's sister, the friend and companion who had been so much to her, should not be more visibly regretted.
Fanny spoke so seldom of her, and had so little voluntarily to say of her concern at this separation.
everything was now in a fairer train for Miss Crawford's marrying Edmund than it had ever been before.
On his side the inclination was stronger, on hers less equivocal. His objections, the scruples of his integrity, seemed all done away, nobody could tell how; and the doubts and hesitations of her ambition were equally got over— and equally without apparent reason. It could only be imputed to increasing attachment. His good and her bad feelings yielded to love, and such love must unite them.
He was to go to town as soon as some business relative to Thornton Lacey were completed— perhaps within a fortnight; he talked of going, he loved to talk of it; and when once with her again, Fanny could not doubt the rest.
Her acceptance must be as certain as his offer;
In their very last conversation, Miss Crawford, in spite of some amiable sensations, and much personal kindness, had still been Miss Crawford; still shewn a mind led astray and bewildered, and without any suspicion of being so; darkened, yet fancying itself light. She might love, but she did not deserve Edmund by any other sentiment.
there was scarcely a second feeling in common between them;
if Edmund's influence in this season of love had already done so little in clearing her judgment, and regulating her notions, his worth would be finally wasted on her even in years of matrimony.
before Fanny had any chance of seeing it, all its own freshness and all the freshness of its wearer's feelings must be worn away. It would be sunk into a badge of disgrace; for what can be more unbecoming, or more worthless, than the uniform of a lieutenant, who has been a lieutenant a year or two, and sees others made commanders before him?
The thing was good in itself, and could not be done at a better time; and he had no doubt of it being highly agreeable to Fanny.
To be in the centre of such a circle, loved by so many, and more loved by all than she had ever been before; to feel affection without fear or restraint; to feel herself the equal of those who surrounded her; to be at peace from all mention of the Crawfords, safe from every look which could be fancied a reproach on their account.
Edmund, too —to be two months from him (and perhaps she might be allowed to make her absence three) must do her good. At a distance, unassailed by his looks or his kindness, and safe from the perpetual irritation of knowing his heart, and striving to avoid his confidence, she should be able to reason herself into a properer state; she should be able to think of him as in London, and arranging everything there, without wretchedness. What might have been hard to bear at Mansfield was to become a slight evil at Portsmouth.
The only drawback was the doubt of her aunt Bertram's being comfortable without her. She was of use to no one else; but there she might be missed to a degree that she did not like to think of;
she should now find a warm and affectionate friend in the "mama" who had certainly shewn no remarkable fondness for her formerly; but this she could easily suppose to have been her own fault or her own fancy. She had probably alienated love by the helplessness and fretfulness of a fearful temper, or been unreasonable in wanting a larger share than any one among so many could deserve. Now, when she knew better how to be useful, and how to forbear, and when her mother could be no longer occupied by the incessant demands of a house full of little children, there would be leisure and inclination for every comfort, and they should soon be what mother and daughter ought to be to each other.
It would be the greatest pleasure
to have her there to the last moment before he sailed, and perhaps find her there still when he came in from his first cruise. And besides, he wanted her so very much to see the Thrush before she went out of harbour— the Thrush was certainly the finest sloop in the service—and there were several improvements in the dockyard, too, which he quite longed to shew her.
her being at home for a while would be a great advantage to everybody.
he could not leave his father and mother just when everybody else of most importance to their comfort was leaving them;
its fixing his happiness for ever.
She knew so much already, that she must know everything.
it to be the last time in which Miss Crawford's name would ever be mentioned between them with any remains of liberty.
That a letter from Edmund should be a subject of terror!
enough to make the little cottage comfortable, in which he and Fanny were to pass all their middle and later life together.
his sister's feelings should be so cold towards a man whom he must consider as the first of human characters;
When no longer under the same roof with Edmund, she trusted that Miss Crawford would have no motive for writing strong enough to overcome the trouble, and
at Portsmouth their correspondence would dwindle into nothing.
Would they but love her, she should be satisfied.
everything was always for the best;
to go and change his dress, and make the necessary preparations for his removal on board directly, that he might have his tea in comfort afterwards.
She was at home. But, alas! it was not such a home, she had not such a welcome, as—
she was unreasonable. What right had she to be of importance to her family? She could have none, so long lost sight of! William's concerns must be dearest, they always had been, and he had every right. Yet to have so little said or asked about herself, to have scarcely an inquiry made after Mansfield! It did pain her to have Mansfield forgotten; the friends who had done so much —the dear, dear friends! But here, one subject swallowed up all the rest. Perhaps it must be so. The destination of the Thrush must be now preeminently interesting. A day or two might shew the difference. She only was to blame. Yet
it would not have been so at Mansfield. No, in her uncle's house there would have been a consideration of times and seasons, a regulation of subject, a propriety, an attention towards everybody which there was not here.
it as a proof of anything more than their being for the time thoroughly fagged,
she should be very glad of a little tea,
Susan had an open, sensible countenance; she was like William,
being on shore some part of every day before they sailed, and even of getting her to Spithead to see the sloop.
her mother meant to part with her when her year was up.
William was gone: and the home he had left her in was,
in almost every respect the very reverse of what she could have wished. It was the abode of noise, disorder, and impropriety. Nobody was in their right place, nothing was done as it ought to be.
It was the greatest misery of all. At Mansfield, no sounds of contention, no raised voice, no abrupt bursts, no tread of violence, was ever heard; all proceeded in a regular course of cheerful orderliness; everybody had their due importance; everybody's feelings were consulted. If tenderness could be ever supposed wanting, good sense and good breeding supplied its place; and as to the little irritations sometimes introduced by aunt Norris, they were short, they were trifling, they were as a drop of water to the ocean, compared with the ceaseless tumult of her present abode. Here everybody was noisy, every voice was loud (excepting, perhaps, her mother's, which resembled the soft monotony of Lady Bertram's, only worn into fretfulness). Whatever was wanted was hallooed for, and the servants hallooed out their excuses from the kitchen. The doors were in constant banging, the stairs were never at rest, nothing was done without a clatter, nobody sat still, and nobody could command attention when they spoke.
though Mansfield Park might have some pains, Portsmouth could have no pleasures.