Austen Said:

"To chuse to remain here month after month, under privations of every sort! And now to chuse the mortification of Mrs. Elton's notice and the penury of her conversation, rather than return to the superior companions who have always loved her with such real, generous affection."

"She must have some motive, more powerful than appears, for refusing this invitation,"

"She must be under some sort of penance, inflicted either by the Campbells or herself. There is great fear, great caution, great resolution somewhere.—She is not to be with the Dixons. The decree is issued by somebody. But why must she consent to be with the Eltons?—Here is quite a separate puzzle."

"Such attentions as Mrs. Elton's, I should have imagined, would rather disgust than gratify Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton's invitations I should have imagined any thing but inviting."

"I know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax,"

"And yet,"

"And yet, perhaps, you may hardly be aware yourself how highly it is. The extent of your admiration may take you by surprize some day or other."

"You are not vain, Mr. Knightley. I will say that for you."

"No indeed I have not. You have scolded me too much for match-making, for me to presume to take such a liberty with you. What I said just now, meant nothing. One says those sort of things, of course, without any idea of a serious meaning. Oh! no, upon my word I have not the smallest wish for your marrying Jane Fairfax or Jane any body. You would not come in and sit with us in this comfortable way, if you were married."

"Well,"

"and you soon silenced Mr. Cole, I suppose?"

"In that respect how unlike dear Mrs. Elton, who wants to be wiser and wittier than all the world! I wonder how she speaks of the Coles —what she calls them! How can she find any appellation for them, deep enough in familiar vulgarity? She calls you, Knightley —what can she do for Mr. Cole? And so I am not to be surprized that Jane Fairfax accepts her civilities and consents to be with her. Mrs. Weston, your argument weighs most with me. I can much more readily enter into the temptation of getting away from Miss Bates, than I can believe in the triumph of Miss Fairfax's mind over Mrs. Elton. I have no faith in Mrs. Elton's acknowledging herself the inferior in thought, word, or deed; or in her being under any restraint beyond her own scanty rule of good-breeding. I cannot imagine that she will not be continually insulting her visitor with praise, encouragement, and offers of service; that she will not be continually detailing her magnificent intentions, from the procuring her a permanent situation to the including her in those delightful exploring parties which are to take place in the barouche-landau."

"Well, Mrs. Weston,"

"what do you say now to Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax?"

"This is very true,"

"at least as far as relates to me, which was all that was meant—and it is very shameful.—Of the same age—and always knowing her— I ought to have been more her friend.—She will never like me now. I have neglected her too long. But I will shew her greater attention than I have done."

"I never saw any gentleman's handwriting"—

"Now, how am I going to introduce him?—Am I unequal to speaking his name at once before all these people? Is it necessary for me to use any roundabout phrase?—Your Yorkshire friend— your correspondent in Yorkshire;—that would be the way, I suppose, if I were very bad.—No, I can pronounce his name without the smallest distress. I certainly get better and better.—Now for it."

"Mr. Frank Churchill writes one of the best gentleman's hands I ever saw."

"If we were in the other room,"

"if I had my writing-desk, I am sure I could produce a specimen. I have a note of his.—Do not you remember, Mrs. Weston, employing him to write for you one day?"

"Well, well, I have that note; and can shew it after dinner to convince Mr. Knightley."

"I rather hope to satisfy you both,"

"for I shall do all in my power to make them happy, which will be enough for Isabella; and happiness must preclude false indulgence and physic."

"That is very likely. You think so, do not you?"

"Increase!"

"Difference! No indeed I am not."

"Upon my word,"

"you amuse me! I should like to know how many of all my numerous engagements take place without your being of the party; and why I am to be supposed in danger of wanting leisure to attend to the little boys. These amazing engagements of mine—what have they been? Dining once with the Coles—and having a ball talked of, which never took place. I can understand you—

your good fortune in meeting with so many of your friends at once here, delights you too much to pass unnoticed. But you,

who know how very, very seldom I am ever two hours from Hartfield, why you should foresee such a series of dissipation for me, I cannot imagine. And as to my dear little boys, I must say, that if Aunt Emma has not time for them, I do not think they would fare much better with Uncle Knightley, who is absent from home about five hours where she is absent one—and who, when he is at home, is either reading to himself or settling his accounts."

"So unreasonably early!"

"How do you like Mrs. Elton?"

"You are ungrateful."

"Knightley has taken pity on poor little Miss Smith!—Very good-natured, I declare."

"I did,"

"and they cannot forgive me."

"Can you trust me with such flatterers?—Does my vain spirit ever tell me I am wrong?"

"I do own myself to have been completely mistaken in Mr. Elton. There is a littleness about him which you discovered, and which I did not: and I was fully convinced of his being in love with Harriet. It was through a series of strange blunders!"

"I am ready,"

"whenever I am wanted."

"With you, if you will ask me."

"Indeed I will. You have shewn that you can dance, and you know we are not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper."

"Yes,"

"I hope I do."

"Not the least in the world.—Did he ever give you any thing?"

"No, indeed I do not."

"My dearest Harriet!"

"you make me more ashamed of myself than I can bear. Remember it? Aye, I remember it all now; all, except your saving this relic— I knew nothing of that till this moment —but the cutting the finger, and my recommending court-plaister, and saying I had none about me!—Oh! my sins, my sins!—And I had plenty all the while in my pocket!—One of my senseless tricks!—I deserve to be under a continual blush all the rest of my life.—Well—

go on— — what else?"