Austen Said:

"Very well— and as Randalls, I suppose, is not likely to have less influence than heretofore, it strikes me as a possible thing, Emma, that Henry and John may be sometimes in the way. And if they are, I only beg you to send them home."

"A very fine young man indeed, Mr. Weston. You know I candidly told you I should form my own opinion; and I am happy to say that I am extremely pleased with him.—You may believe me. I never compliment. I think him a very handsome young man, and his manners are precisely what I like and approve— so truly the gentleman, without the least conceit or puppyism. You must know I have a vast dislike to puppies— quite a horror of them. They were never tolerated at Maple Grove. Neither Mr. Suckling nor me had ever any patience with them; and we used sometimes to say very cutting things! Selina, who is mild almost to a fault, bore with them much better."

"I have no doubt of its being our carriage with Miss Bates and Jane. Our coachman and horses are so extremely expeditious!—I believe we drive faster than any body.—What a pleasure it is to send one's carriage for a friend!—I understand you were so kind as to offer, but another time it will be quite unnecessary. You may be very sure I shall always take care of them."

"How do you like my gown?—How do you like my trimming?—How has Wright done my hair?"—

"Nobody can think less of dress in general than I do—but upon such an occasion as this, when every body's eyes are so much upon me, and in compliment to the Westons— who I have no doubt are giving this ball chiefly to do me honour —I would not wish to be inferior to others. And I see very few pearls in the room except mine.—So Frank Churchill is a capital dancer, I understand.—We shall see if our styles suit.—A fine young man certainly is Frank Churchill. I like him very well."

"Oh! you have found us out at last, have you, in our seclusion?—I was this moment telling Jane, I thought you would begin to be impatient for tidings of us."

"Do not you dance, Mr. Elton?"

"Me!—oh! no —I would get you a better partner than myself. I am no dancer."

"Mrs. Gilbert does not mean to dance, but there is a young lady disengaged whom I should be very glad to see dancing— — Miss Smith."

"I did not know that he ever had any such plan."

"Me! impossible!"

"Upon my word I never heard of it till this moment."

"Is not this most vexatious, Knightley?"

"And such weather for exploring!—These delays and disappointments are quite odious. What are we to do?—The year will wear away at this rate, and nothing done. Before this time last year I assure you we had had a delightful exploring party from Maple Grove to Kings Weston."

"Oh! I should like it of all things,"

"You may depend upon me,"

"I certainly will come. Name your day, and I will come. You will allow me to bring Jane Fairfax?"

"Oh! leave all that to me. Only give me a carte-blanche.—I am Lady Patroness, you know. It is my party. I will bring friends with me."

"Oh! now you are looking very sly. But consider —you need not be afraid of delegating power to me. I am no young lady on her preferment. Married women, you know, may be safely authorised. It is my party. Leave it all to me. I will invite your guests."

"—Mrs. Weston, I suppose,"

"Ah! you are an odd creature!"

"You are a humourist, and may say what you like. Quite a humourist. Well, I shall bring Jane with me— Jane and her aunt.—The rest I leave to you. I have no objections at all to meeting the Hartfield family. Don't scruple. I know you are attached to them."

"That's quite unnecessary; I see Jane every day:—but as you like. It is to be a morning scheme, you know, Knightley; quite a simple thing. I shall wear a large bonnet, and bring one of my little baskets hanging on my arm. Here,—probably this basket with pink ribbon. Nothing can be more simple, you see. And Jane will have such another. There is to be no form or parade— a sort of gipsy party. We are to walk about your gardens, and gather the strawberries ourselves, and sit under trees;—and whatever else you may like to provide, it is to be all out of doors— a table spread in the shade, you know. Every thing as natural and simple as possible. Is not that your idea?"

"Well —as you please; only don't have a great set out. And, by the bye, can I or my housekeeper be of any use to you with our opinion?—Pray be sincere, Knightley. If you wish me to talk to Mrs. Hodges, or to inspect anything —"

"Well—but if any difficulties should arise, my housekeeper is extremely clever."

"I wish we had a donkey. The thing would be for us all to come on donkeys, Jane, Miss Bates, and me—and my caro sposo walking by. I really must talk to him about purchasing a donkey. In a country life I conceive it to be a sort of necessary; for, let a woman have ever so many resources, it is not possible for her to be always shut up at home;—and very long walks, you know— in summer there is dust, and in winter there is dirt."

"That I am sure you would. Indeed I do you justice, my good friend. Under that peculiar sort of dry, blunt manner, I know you have the warmest heart. As I tell Mr. E., you are a thorough humourist.—Yes, believe me, Knightley, I am fully sensible of your attention to me in the whole of this scheme. You have hit upon the very thing to please me."

"It is a sort of thing,"

"which I should not have thought myself privileged to inquire into. Though, perhaps, as the Chaperon of the party —I never was in any circle— exploring parties— young ladies— married women —"

"Oh! for myself, I protest I must be excused,"

"I really cannot attempt —I am not at all fond of the sort of thing. I had an acrostic once sent to me upon my own name, which I was not at all pleased with. I knew who it came from. An abominable puppy!—You know who I mean

These kind of things are very well at Christmas, when one is sitting round the fire; but quite out of place, in my opinion, when one is exploring about the country in summer. Miss Woodhouse must excuse me. I am not one of those who have witty things at every body's service. I do not pretend to be a wit. I have a great deal of vivacity in my own way, but I really must be allowed to judge when to speak and when to hold my tongue. Pass us, if you please, Mr. Churchill. Pass Mr. E., Knightley, Jane, and myself. We have nothing clever to say —not one of us.

"With all my heart. I am really tired of exploring so long on one spot. Come, Jane, take my other arm."

"I am afraid Jane is not very well,"

"but I do not know; they tell me she is well. I dare say my daughter will be here presently, Miss Woodhouse. I hope you find a chair. I wish Hetty had not gone. I am very little able —Have you a chair, ma'am? Do you sit where you like? I am sure she will be here presently."

"Poor Mrs. Churchill! no doubt she had been suffering a great deal: more than any body had ever supposed—and continual pain would try the temper. It was a sad event— a great shock— with all her faults, what would Mr. Churchill do without her? Mr. Churchill's loss would be dreadful indeed. Mr. Churchill would never get over it."—

"Have you indeed no idea?"

"Cannot you, my dear Emma— cannot you form a guess as to what you are to hear?"

"You are right. It does relate to him, and I will tell you directly;"

"He has been here this very morning, on a most extraordinary errand. It is impossible to express our surprize. He came to speak to his father on a subject,—to announce an attachment—"

"More than an attachment, indeed,"

"an engagement— a positive engagement.—What will you say, Emma —what will any body say, when it is known that Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax are engaged;—nay, that they have been long engaged!"

"You may well be amazed,"

"You may well be amazed. But it is even so. There has been a solemn engagement between them ever since October— formed at Weymouth, and kept a secret from every body. Not a creature knowing it but themselves— neither the Campbells, nor her family, nor his.—It is so wonderful, that though perfectly convinced of the fact, it is yet almost incredible to myself. I can hardly believe it.—I thought I knew him."

"Engaged since October,—secretly engaged.—It has hurt me, Emma, very much. It has hurt his father equally. Some part of his conduct we cannot excuse."

"Mr. Weston will be almost as much relieved as myself,"

"On this point we have been wretched. It was our darling wish that you might be attached to each other—and we were persuaded that it was so.— Imagine what we have been feeling on your account."

"From something that he said, my dear Emma, I rather imagine —"

Emma;

he said so expressly.