Austen Said:

—And to this day, I do believe, she knows not whether it was his present or his daughter's."

"Nothing at all. But is not this a sudden scheme?"

Time, however,

would tell him that they ought to be friends again.

He would have judged better,

if he had not stopped.—

nothing became him more.—It was with him, of so simple, yet so dignified a nature.—

It spoke such perfect amity.—

she wished she had left her ten minutes earlier;—it would have been a great pleasure to talk over Jane Fairfax's situation with Mr. Knightley.—

but it might have happened at a better time—and to have had longer notice of it, would have been pleasanter.—

It was a pity that she had not come back earlier!

how Frank might be affected by the event, how benefited, how freed.

Now, an attachment to Harriet Smith would have nothing to encounter. Mr. Churchill, independent of his wife, was feared by nobody; an easy, guidable man, to be persuaded into any thing by his nephew. All that remained to be wished was, that the nephew should form the attachment,

to be of use to her;

to shew a value for her society, and testify respect and consideration.

to prevail on her to spend a day at Hartfield.

To take her —be it only an hour or two —from her aunt, to give her change of air and scene, and quiet rational conversation, even for an hour or two, might do her good;

she would call for her in the carriage at any hour that Jane would name—

she had Mr. Perry's decided opinion, in favour of such exercise for his patient.

her own note had deserved something better;

thinking an airing might be of the greatest service—

Jane was quite unpersuadable; the mere proposal of going out seemed to make her worse.—

"Indeed, the truth was, that poor dear Jane could not bear to see any body— any body at all —Mrs. Elton, indeed, could not be denied—and Mrs. Cole had made such a point—and Mrs. Perry had said so much—but, except them, Jane would really see nobody."

Jane would hardly eat any thing:—Mr. Perry recommended nourishing food; but every thing they could command (and never had any body such good neighbours) was distasteful.

"dear Jane would not be satisfied without its being sent back; it was a thing she could not take—and, moreover,

she insisted on her saying,

that she was not at all in want of any thing."

she could have no doubt— putting every thing together —that Jane was resolved to receive no kindness from her.

could Mr. Knightley have been privy to all her attempts of assisting Jane Fairfax, could he even have seen into her heart, he would not, on this occasion, have found any thing to reprove.

"Is she unwell?"

"Certainly. This moment, if you please. It is impossible to refuse what you ask in such a way. But what can be the matter?—Is she really not ill?"

"Now,"—

"now Mr. Weston, do let me know what has happened."

"Break it to me,"

"Good God!—Mr. Weston, tell me at once.—Something has happened in Brunswick Square. I know it has. Tell me, I charge you tell me this moment what it is."

"Mr. Weston do not trifle with me.—Consider how many of my dearest friends are now in Brunswick Square. Which of them is it?—I charge you by all that is sacred, not to attempt concealment."

"Your word!—why not your honour!—why not say upon your honour, that it has nothing to do with any of them? Good Heavens!—What can be to be broke to me, that does not relate to one of that family?"

the probability of its being some money concern— — something just come to light, of a disagreeable nature in the circumstances of the family,—something which the late event at Richmond had brought forward.

"Who is that gentleman on horseback?"

"Has your son been with you, then?"

"What is it my dear friend? Something of a very unpleasant nature, I find, has occurred;—do let me know directly what it is. I have been walking all this way in complete suspense. We both abhor suspense. Do not let mine continue longer. It will do you good to speak of your distress, whatever it may be."

"So far as that it relates to Mr. Frank Churchill, I do guess."

"Jane Fairfax!—Good God! You are not serious? You do not mean it?"

"Well,"

"this is a circumstance which I must think of at least half a day, before I can at all comprehend it. What!—engaged to her all the winter —before either of them came to Highbury?"

"I will not pretend not to understand you; and to give you all the relief in my power, be assured that no such effect has followed his attentions to me, as you are apprehensive of."

"That you may have less difficulty in believing this boast, of my present perfect indifference,"

"I will farther tell you, that there was a period in the early part of our acquaintance, when I did like him, when I was very much disposed to be attached to him— nay, was attached —and how it came to cease, is perhaps the wonder. Fortunately, however, it did cease. I have really for some time past, for at least these three months, cared nothing about him. You may believe me, Mrs. Weston. This is the simple truth."

"I have escaped; and that I should escape, may be a matter of grateful wonder to you and myself. But this does not acquit him, Mrs. Weston; and I must say, that I think him greatly to blame. What right had he to come among us with affection and faith engaged, and with manners so very disengaged? What right had he to endeavour to please, as he certainly did— to distinguish any one young woman with persevering attention, as he certainly did— while he really belonged to another?—How could he tell what mischief he might be doing?—How could he tell that he might not be making me in love with him?—very wrong, very wrong indeed."

"And how could she bear such behaviour! Composure with a witness! to look on, while repeated attentions were offering to another woman, before her face, and not resent it.—That is a degree of placidity, which I can neither comprehend nor respect."