Austen Said:

if there was any news in the paper.

her daughters might do as they pleased.

she did not care how cross he was to her, as they must live together.

she thanked heaven that SHE had never made so rude a speech.

So surprised at their coming to town, though it was what she had rather expected all along; so angry at their accepting her mother's invitation after having declined her own,

she would never have forgiven them if they had not come!

requesting the company of her mother and cousins the following evening. Business on Sir John's part, and a violent cold on her own, prevented their calling in Berkeley Street.

it was risking too much for the gratification of a few girls, to have it known that Lady Middleton had given a small dance of eight or nine couple, with two violins, and a mere side-board collation.

said something very droll

greater openness towards them both;

bear up with fortitude under this misfortune.

by all means not to shorten their visit to Mrs. Jennings;

might yet,

cheat Marianne, at times, into some interest beyond herself, and even into some amusement, much as the ideas of both might now be spurned by her.

one of the most charming women in the world!

they were done by Miss Dashwood.

her mother had been quite rude enough, —

the exceedingly great inconvenience of sending her carriage for the Miss Dashwoods,

who could tell that they might not expect to go out with her a second time?

to request her company and her sister's, for some days, in Harley Street, as soon as Lady Middleton could spare them.

whether she should ever be able to part with them.

concerned to find that Elinor and her sister were so soon to leave town, as she had hoped to see more of them;

to come to Norland whenever it should happen to be in their way,

one of the happiest women in the world.

Marianne was restored to her from a danger in which,

her own mistaken judgment in encouraging the unfortunate attachment to Willoughby, had contributed to place her;

something more than gratitude already dawned.

she was sorry for him; — she wished him happy.

every thing had been expressly softened at the time, to spare her from an increase of unhappiness, suffering as she then had suffered for Marianne.

she had been misled by the careful, the considerate attention of her daughter, to think the attachment, which once she had so well understood, much slighter in reality, than she had been wont to believe, or than it was now proved to be.

she had been unjust, inattentive, nay, almost unkind, to her Elinor;

— that Marianne's affliction, because more acknowledged, more immediately before her, had too much engrossed her tenderness, and led her away to forget that in Elinor she might have a daughter suffering almost as much, certainly with less self-provocation, and greater fortitude.

to hope that he had left Mrs. Ferrars very well.

in Miss Morton he would have a woman of higher rank and larger fortune;

Miss Morton was the daughter of a nobleman with thirty thousand pounds, while Miss Dashwood was only the daughter of a private gentleman with no more than THREE;

dear Emma was of no feeble character; she was more equal to her situation than most girls would have been, and had sense, and energy, and spirits that might be hoped would bear her well and happily through its little difficulties and privations. And then there was such comfort in the very easy distance of Randalls from Hartfield, so convenient for even solitary female walking, and in Mr. Weston's disposition and circumstances, which would make the approaching season no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in the week together.

to be allowed to bring Miss Smith with her;

he had nothing more to say or surmise about Hartfield.

her own cook at South End, a young woman hired for the time, who never had been able to understand what she meant by a basin of nice smooth gruel, thin, but not too thin. Often as she had wished for and ordered it, she had never been able to get any thing tolerable.

she should be very glad to be secure of undergoing the anxiety of a first meeting at the time talked of:

he did not know what he was talking about. Used only to a large house himself, and without ever thinking how many advantages and accommodations were attached to its size, he could be no judge of the privations inevitably belonging to a small one.

how attentive and pleasant a companion he made himself— how much she saw to like in his disposition altogether.

He appeared to have a very open temper— certainly a very cheerful and lively one; she could observe nothing wrong in his notions, a great deal decidedly right; he spoke of his uncle with warm regard, was fond of talking of him— said he would be the best man in the world if he were left to himself; and though there was no being attached to the aunt, he acknowledged her kindness with gratitude, and seemed to mean always to speak of her with respect.

she had been calling on Miss Bates, and as soon as she entered the room had been struck by the sight of a pianoforte— a very elegant looking instrument —not a grand, but a large-sized square pianoforte;

this pianoforte had arrived from Broadwood's the day before, to the great astonishment of both aunt and niece— entirely unexpected;

she was going to call on the Bateses, in order to hear the new instrument.

to play as long as they could wish to dance;

having no regular supper; merely sandwiches, &c., set out in the little room;

the evils of it much less than she had supposed before— indeed very trifling;

As to his going, it was inevitable. He must be gone within a few hours, though without feeling any real alarm for his aunt, to lessen his repugnance. He knew her illnesses; they never occurred but for her own convenience.