Austen Said:

owned himself disappointed, had expected singing;

must confess that he should not be sorry when it was over.

their pardon, but he had forgotten his gloves,

having loved none but her. She had never been supplanted. He never even believed himself to see her equal.

that he had been constant unconsciously, nay unintentionally; that he had meant to forget her, and believed it to be done. He had imagined himself indifferent, when he had only been angry; and he had been unjust to her merits, because he had been a sufferer from them. Her character was now fixed on his mind as perfection itself, maintaining the loveliest medium of fortitude and gentleness; but he was obliged to acknowledge that only at Uppercross had he learnt to do her justice, and only at Lyme had he begun to understand himself.

he had for ever felt it to be impossible;

he had not cared, could not care, for Louisa; though till that day, till the leisure for reflection which followed it, he had not understood the perfect excellence of the mind with which Louisa's could so ill bear a comparison, or the perfect unrivalled hold it possessed over his own. There, he had learnt to distinguish between the steadiness of principle and the obstinacy of self-will, between the darings of heedlessness and the resolution of a collected mind. There he had seen everything to exalt in his estimation the woman he had lost; and there begun to deplore the pride, the folly, the madness of resentment, which had kept him from trying to regain her when thrown in his way.

From that period his penance had become severe. He had no sooner been free from the horror and remorse attending the first few days of Louisa's accident, no sooner begun to feel himself alive again, than he had begun to feel himself, though alive, not at liberty.

He found too late, in short, that he had entangled himself; and that precisely as he became fully satisfied of his not caring for Louisa at all, he must regard himself as bound to her, if her sentiments for him were what the Harvilles supposed. It determined him to leave Lyme, and await her complete recovery elsewhere. He would gladly weaken, by any fair means, whatever feelings or speculations concerning him might exist; and he went, therefore, to his brother's, meaning after a while to return to Kellynch, and act as circumstances might require.

He had remained in Shropshire, lamenting the blindness of his own pride, and the blunders of his own calculations, till at once released from Louisa by the astonishing and felicitous intelligence of her engagement with Benwick.

how they did,

they both looked very ugly.

he had quitted it for a week, on the very morning after his having had the pleasure of seeing her.

the spirit and freedom with which his horse moved along, and the ease which his paces, as well as the excellence of the springs, gave the motion of the carriage.

horses which he had bought for a trifle and sold for incredible sums;

racing matches, in which his judgment had infallibly foretold the winner;

shooting parties, in which he had killed more birds (though without having one good shot) than all his companions together;

some famous day’s sport, with the fox-hounds, in which his foresight and skill in directing the dogs had repaired the mistakes of the most experienced huntsman, and in which the boldness of his riding,

though it had never endangered his own life for a moment,

had been constantly leading others into difficulties,

had broken the necks of many.

he had never seen two men so much alike in his life,

what was the matter.

make room for him,

knew nothing about it; but his father, like every military man, had a very large acquaintance.

whether she had seen him talking with General Tilney:

When everything was settled, when Miss Tilney herself said that Tuesday would suit her as well, it was quite ridiculous, quite absurd, to make any further objection.

it would be in vain to go after the Tilneys; they were turning the corner into Brock Street, when he had overtaken them, and were at home by this time.

her having a great deal of natural taste.

foregrounds, distances, and second distances — side-screens and perspectives — lights and shades;

being one of the finest fellows in the world,

to dance.

against every thought of dancing himself,

finding it possible.

His sister,

was uncomfortably circumstanced — she had no female companion — and, in the frequent absence of her father, was sometimes without any companion at all.

her having been undisturbed by the tempest,

for his appearance there,

after what had passed he had little right to expect a welcome at Fullerton,

his impatience to be assured of Miss Morland’s having reached her home in safety, as the cause of his intrusion.

if Mr. and Mrs. Allen were now at Fullerton?

the meaning,

his intention of paying his respects to them,

if she would have the goodness to show him the way.

On his return from Woodston, two days before, he had been met near the abbey by his impatient father, hastily informed in angry terms of

and ordered

her therefore as the almost acknowledged future heiress of Fullerton

to have been totally mistaken in his opinion of their circumstances and character, misled by the rhodomontade of his friend to believe his father a man of substance and credit, whereas the transactions of the two or three last weeks proved him to be neither; for after coming eagerly forward on the first overture of a marriage between the families, with the most liberal proposals, he had, on being brought to the point by the shrewdness of the relator, been constrained to acknowledge himself incapable of giving the young people even a decent support. They were, in fact, a necessitous family; numerous, too, almost beyond example; by no means respected in their own neighbourhood, as he had lately had particular opportunities of discovering; aiming at a style of life which their fortune could not warrant; seeking to better themselves by wealthy connections; a forward, bragging, scheming race.

The Allens,

had lived near them too long, and he knew the young man on whom the Fullerton estate must devolve.