Austen Said:

"Yes,"

"it is Randalls that does it all."

"No,"

"that need not be the consequence. Let them be sent to Donwell. I shall certainly be at leisure."

"He had seen a group of old acquaintance in the street as he passed —he had not stopped, he would not stop for more than a word—but he had the vanity to think they would be disappointed if he did not call, and much as he wished to stay longer at Hartfield, he must hurry off."

"I think she must be here soon,"

"I have a great curiosity to see Mrs. Elton, I have heard so much of her. It cannot be long, I think, before she comes."

"I am forgetting that I am not acquainted with her. I have never seen either Mr. or Mrs. Elton. I have no business to put myself forward."

"But Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax!"

"We thought you were to bring them."

"I will see that there are umbrellas, sir,"

"Miss Bates must not be forgotten:"

"Jane!"—

"That is easy—but Miss Fairfax does not disapprove it, I suppose."

"Not at all."

"Ungrateful!—What do you mean?"

"No, do not tell me— I do not want to know what you mean.—Where is my father?—When are we to begin dancing?"

"And what are we to do for a proper partner for her?"

"She will think Frank ought to ask her."

"They aimed at wounding more than Harriet,"

"Emma, why is it that they are your enemies?"

"She ought not to be angry with you, I suspect, whatever he may be.—To that surmise, you say nothing, of course; but confess, Emma, that you did want him to marry Harriet."

"I shall not scold you. I leave you to your own reflections."

"Not your vain spirit, but your serious spirit.—If one leads you wrong, I am sure the other tells you of it."

"And, in return for your acknowledging so much, I will do you the justice to say, that you would have chosen for him better than he has chosen for himself.—Harriet Smith has some first-rate qualities, which Mrs. Elton is totally without. An unpretending, single-minded, artless girl— infinitely to be preferred by any man of sense and taste to such a woman as Mrs. Elton. I found Harriet more conversable than I expected."

"Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all doing?—Come Emma, set your companions the example. Every body is lazy! Every body is asleep!"

"Whom are you going to dance with?"

"Will you?"

"Brother and sister! no, indeed."

"By the bye,"

"what became of Mr. Perry's plan of setting up his carriage?"

"Nay, I had it from you. You wrote me word of it three months ago."

"Indeed you did. I remember it perfectly. You mentioned it as what was certainly to be very soon. Mrs. Perry had told somebody, and was extremely happy about it.

she thought

You must remember it now?"

"Never! really, never!—Bless me! how could it be?—Then I must have dreamt it— but I was completely persuaded—Miss Smith, you walk as if you were tired. You will not be sorry to find yourself at home."

"What is this?—What is this?"

"about Perry and a carriage? Is Perry going to set up his carriage, Frank? I am glad he can afford it. You had it from himself, had you?"

"No, sir,"

"I seem to have had it from nobody.—Very odd!—I really was persuaded of Mrs. Weston's having mentioned it in one of her letters to Enscombe, many weeks ago, with all these particulars—but as

she declares

of course it must have been a dream. I am a great dreamer. I dream of every body at Highbury when I am away—and when I have gone through my particular friends, then I begin dreaming of Mr. and Mrs. Perry."

"It is odd though,"

"that you should have had such a regular connected dream about people whom it was not very likely you should be thinking of at Enscombe. Perry's setting up his carriage! and his wife's persuading him to it, out of care for his health— just what will happen, I have no doubt, some time or other; only a little premature. What an air of probability sometimes runs through a dream! And at others, what a heap of absurdities it is! Well, Frank, your dream certainly shews that Highbury is in your thoughts when you are absent. Emma, you are a great dreamer, I think?"

"Miss Woodhouse,"

"have your nephews taken away their alphabets— their box of letters? It used to stand here. Where is it? This is a sort of dull-looking evening, that ought to be treated rather as winter than summer. We had great amusement with those letters one morning. I want to puzzle you again."

"poor little boys,"

"I will give it to her— shall I?"—

"Pray, Emma,"

"may I ask in what lay the great amusement, the poignant sting of the last word given to you and Miss Fairfax? I saw the word, and am curious to know how it could be so very entertaining to the one, and so very distressing to the other."