Austen Said:

She could see nothing but evil in it.

It would be a great disappointment to Mr. John Knightley; consequently to Isabella. A real injury to the children— a most mortifying change, and material loss to them all;—a very great deduction from her father's daily comfort—and, as to herself, she could not at all endure the idea of Jane Fairfax at Donwell Abbey. A Mrs. Knightley for them all to give way to!—No —Mr. Knightley must never marry. Little Henry must remain the heir of Donwell.

This would be a trial. He was no dancer in general. If he were to be very alert in engaging Jane Fairfax now, it might augur something. There was no immediate appearance. No; he was talking to Mrs. Cole— he was looking on unconcerned; Jane was asked by somebody else, and he was still talking to Mrs. Cole.

She must have delighted the Coles— worthy people, who deserved to be made happy!—And left a name behind her that would not soon die away.

It was hardly right; but it had been so strong an idea, that it would escape her, and his submission to all that she told, was a compliment to her penetration, which made it difficult for her to be quite certain that she ought to have held her tongue.

he valued taste much more than execution."

whether she would get into any great family.

what they had told her,

if I thought I should go and stay there again next summer."

he was very agreeable the day he dined there. He sat by her at dinner.

if she wanted plain muslin it was of no use to look at figured; and

a blue ribbon, be it ever so beautiful, would still never match her yellow pattern.

every body ought to have two pair of spectacles;

I had made him believe we had a great many left.

she had not yet possessed the instrument long enough to touch it without emotion; she must reason herself into the power of performance;

to play something more.

This amiable, upright, perfect Jane Fairfax was apparently cherishing very reprehensible feelings.

Mr. Knightley cannot stop. He is going to Kingston.

if he could do any thing...."

it really time to be at home; the visit had already lasted long;

the dance begun at Mr. Cole's should be finished there —

the same party should be collected, and the same musician engaged,

Had she intended ever to marry him, it might have been worth while to pause and consider, and try to understand the value of his preference, and the character of his temper; but for all the purposes of their acquaintance, he was quite amiable enough.

had already written to Enscombe to propose staying a few days beyond his fortnight, which could not possibly be refused.

for a few days they must be planning, proceeding and hoping in uncertainty —at the risk —

the great risk, of its being all in vain.

Either because he did not dance himself, or because the plan had been formed without his being consulted, he seemed resolved that it should not interest him, determined against its exciting any present curiosity, or affording him any future amusement.

It was not to oblige Jane Fairfax therefore that he would have preferred the society of William Larkins. No!—she was more and more convinced that Mrs. Weston was quite mistaken in that surmise. There was a great deal of friendly and of compassionate attachment on his side— but no love.

The loss of the ball —the loss of the young man— and all that the young man might be feeling!—It was too wretched!—Such a delightful evening as it would have been!—Every body so happy! and she and her partner the happiest!—

it had been so.

He could not believe her to be encouraging him.

He was more in love with her than Emma had supposed;

It was a sad change. They had been meeting almost every day since his arrival. Certainly his being at Randalls had given great spirit to the last two weeks— indescribable spirit; the idea, the expectation of seeing him which every morning had brought, the assurance of his attentions, his liveliness, his manners!

It had been a very happy fortnight, and forlorn must be the sinking from it into the common course of Hartfield days. To complete every other recommendation, he had almost told her that he loved her. What strength, or what constancy of affection he might be subject to, was another point; but at present she could not doubt his having a decidedly warm admiration, a conscious preference of herself;

she must be a little in love with him, in spite of every previous determination against it.

He could not say that he was sorry on his own account;

he was sorry for the disappointment of the others,

she could not be very much in love; for in spite of her previous and fixed determination never to quit her father, never to marry, a strong attachment certainly must produce more of a struggle than she could foresee in her own feelings.

This, Emma could not doubt, was all for herself. Harriet was remembered only from being her friend.

Mrs. Churchill was recovering, and he dared not yet, even in his own imagination, fix a time for coming to Randalls again.

she could still do without the writer, and

he must learn to do without her. Her intentions were unchanged.

Her resolution of refusal only grew more interesting by the addition of a scheme for his subsequent consolation and happiness. His recollection of Harriet, and the words which clothed it, the

Harriet's succeeding her in his affections.

Was it impossible?—No.—Harriet undoubtedly was greatly his inferior in understanding; but he had been very much struck with the loveliness of her face and the warm simplicity of her manner; and all the probabilities of circumstance and connexion were in her favour.—For Harriet, it would be advantageous and delightful indeed.

The idea of wanting gratitude and consideration for Miss Woodhouse,

not being the last to pay her respects;

She did not really like her. She would not be in a hurry to find fault, but she suspected that there was no elegance;—ease, but not elegance.—

for a young woman, a stranger, a bride, there was too much ease. Her person was rather good; her face not unpretty; but neither feature, nor air, nor voice, nor manner, were elegant. Emma thought at least it would turn out so.

As for Mr. Elton, his manners did not appear —but no, she would not permit a hasty or a witty word from herself about his manners. It was an awkward ceremony at any time to be receiving wedding visits, and a man had need be all grace to acquit himself well through it. The woman was better off; she might have the assistance of fine clothes, and the privilege of bashfulness, but the man had only his own good sense to depend on;