Austen Said:

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.

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.

added, that

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.

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,

"Indeed, sir,"

"I am very sorry that Mr. Crawford should continue to know that it is paying me a very great compliment, and I feel most undeservedly honoured; but I am so perfectly convinced, and I have told him so, that it never will be in my power —"

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.

"My dear aunt, you cannot wish me to do differently from what I have done, I am sure. You cannot wish me to marry; for you would miss me, should not you? Yes, I am sure you would miss me too much for that."

If her aunt's feelings were against her, nothing could be hoped from attacking her understanding.

They sat so much longer than usual in the dining-parlour, that she was sure they must be talking of her;

"No,"

"No, indeed, you know your duty too well for me to— even supposing —"

"Pray, sir, don't; pray, Mr. Crawford,"

"How can you, sir? You quite astonish me; I wonder how you can—"

"Perhaps, sir,"

"perhaps, sir, I thought it was a pity you did not always know yourself as well as you seemed to do at that moment."

"If you hear of it from everybody, cousin, there can be nothing for me to tell."

"I am afraid we think too differently for me to find any relief in talking of what I feel."

"Oh no! But I thought you blamed me. I thought you were against me. This is such a comfort!"

"My uncle thought me wrong, and I knew he had been talking to you."

"Oh! never, never, never! he never will succeed with me."

"I mean,"

"that I think I never shall, as far as the future can be answered for; I think I never shall return his regard."

"We are so totally unlike,"

"we are so very, very different in all our inclinations and ways, that I consider it as quite impossible we should ever be tolerably happy together, even if I could like him. There never were two people more dissimilar. We have not one taste in common. We should be miserable."

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.

"It is not merely in temper that I consider him as totally unsuited to myself; though, in that respect, I think the difference between us too great, infinitely too great: his spirits often oppress me; but there is something in him which I object to still more. I must say, cousin, that I cannot approve his character. I have not thought well of him from the time of the play. I then saw him behaving, as it appeared to me, so very improperly and unfeelingly— I may speak of it now because it is all over— so improperly by poor Mr. Rushworth, not seeming to care how he exposed or hurt him, and paying attentions to my cousin Maria, which —in short, at the time of the play, I received an impression which will never be got over."

"As a bystander,"

"perhaps I saw more than you did; and I do think that Mr. Rushworth was sometimes very jealous."

"Before the play, I am much mistaken if Julia did not think he was paying her attentions."

"I am persuaded that he does not think, as he ought, on serious subjects."

"I would not engage in such a charge,"

"in such an office of high responsibility!"

"Was Mrs. Grant in the room, then?"

"It is above a week since I saw Miss Crawford."

"I knew she would be very angry with me."

"And Mrs. Grant, did she say —did she speak; was she there all the time?"

"I should have thought,"

"that every woman must have felt the possibility of a man's not being approved, not being loved by some one of her sex at least, let him be ever so generally agreeable. Let him have all the perfections in the world, I think it ought not to be set down as certain that a man must be acceptable to every woman he may happen to like himself. But, even supposing it is so, allowing Mr. Crawford to have all the claims which his sisters think he has, how was I to be prepared to meet him with any feeling answerable to his own? He took me wholly by surprise. I had not an idea that his behaviour to me before had any meaning; and surely I was not to be teaching myself to like him only because he was taking what seemed very idle notice of me. In my situation, it would have been the extreme of vanity to be forming expectations on Mr. Crawford. I am sure his sisters, rating him as they do, must have thought it so, supposing he had meant nothing. How, then, was I to be— to be in love with him the moment he said he was with me? How was I to have an attachment at his service, as soon as it was asked for? His sisters should consider me as well as him. The higher his deserts, the more improper for me ever to have thought of him. And, and—we think very differently of the nature of women, if they can imagine a woman so very soon capable of returning an affection as this seems to imply."