Austen Said:

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.

The regular and best families

they would presume to invite— neither Donwell, nor Hartfield, nor Randalls. Nothing should tempt her to go, if they did; and she regretted that her father's known habits would be giving her refusal less meaning than she could wish. The Coles were very respectable in their way, but they ought to be taught that it was not for them to arrange the terms on which the superior families would visit them. This lesson, she very much feared, they would receive only from herself; she had little hope of Mr. Knightley, none of Mr. Weston.

she should like to have had the power of refusal;

she did not know that she might not have been tempted to accept.

what they advised her to do,

considering every thing, she was not absolutely without inclination for the party. The Coles expressed themselves so properly— there was so much real attention in the manner of it —so much consideration for her father.

how certainly Mrs. Goddard, if not Mrs. Bates, might be depended on for bearing him company—

As for his going, Emma did not wish him to think it possible, the hours would be too late, and the party too numerous.

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;

at first,

Jane herself was quite at a loss, quite bewildered to think who could possibly have ordered it— but now, they were both perfectly satisfied that it could be from only one quarter;—of course it must be from Colonel Campbell.

There she sat— and who would have guessed how many tears she had been lately shedding?

To be in company, nicely dressed herself and seeing others nicely dressed, to sit and smile and look pretty, and say nothing, was enough for the happiness of the present hour.

Jane Fairfax did look and move superior; but Emma suspected she might have been glad to change feelings with Harriet, very glad to have purchased the mortification of having loved— yes, of having loved even Mr. Elton in vain— by the surrender of all the dangerous pleasure of knowing herself beloved by the husband of her friend.

what every body present must be thinking. She was his object, and every body must perceive it.

the society in Yorkshire —the extent of the neighbourhood about Enscombe, and the sort;

Enscombe could not satisfy, and

Highbury, taken at its best, might reasonably please a young man who had more retirement at home than he liked. His importance at Enscombe was very evident. He did not boast, but it naturally betrayed itself, that he had persuaded his aunt where his uncle could do nothing,

She could see nothing but evil in it.

It would be a great disappointment to Mr. John Knightley; consequently to Isabella. A real injury to the children— a most mortifying change, and material loss to them all;—a very great deduction from her father's daily comfort—and, as to herself, she could not at all endure the idea of Jane Fairfax at Donwell Abbey. A Mrs. Knightley for them all to give way to!—No —Mr. Knightley must never marry. Little Henry must remain the heir of Donwell.

This would be a trial. He was no dancer in general. If he were to be very alert in engaging Jane Fairfax now, it might augur something. There was no immediate appearance. No; he was talking to Mrs. Cole— he was looking on unconcerned; Jane was asked by somebody else, and he was still talking to Mrs. Cole.

She must have delighted the Coles— worthy people, who deserved to be made happy!—And left a name behind her that would not soon die away.

It was hardly right; but it had been so strong an idea, that it would escape her, and his submission to all that she told, was a compliment to her penetration, which made it difficult for her to be quite certain that she ought to have held her tongue.

what they had told her,

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

if she wanted plain muslin it was of no use to look at figured; and

a blue ribbon, be it ever so beautiful, would still never match her yellow pattern.

she had not yet possessed the instrument long enough to touch it without emotion; she must reason herself into the power of performance;

the pianoforte,

to be altogether of the highest promise.

This amiable, upright, perfect Jane Fairfax was apparently cherishing very reprehensible feelings.

it really time to be at home; the visit had already lasted long;

to play as long as they could wish to dance;

Had she intended ever to marry him, it might have been worth while to pause and consider, and try to understand the value of his preference, and the character of his temper; but for all the purposes of their acquaintance, he was quite amiable enough.

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;

for a few days they must be planning, proceeding and hoping in uncertainty —at the risk —

the great risk, of its being all in vain.

Either because he did not dance himself, or because the plan had been formed without his being consulted, he seemed resolved that it should not interest him, determined against its exciting any present curiosity, or affording him any future amusement.

It was not to oblige Jane Fairfax therefore that he would have preferred the society of William Larkins. No!—she was more and more convinced that Mrs. Weston was quite mistaken in that surmise. There was a great deal of friendly and of compassionate attachment on his side— but no love.

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.

The loss of the ball —the loss of the young man— and all that the young man might be feeling!—It was too wretched!—Such a delightful evening as it would have been!—Every body so happy! and she and her partner the happiest!—

it had been so.

He could not believe her to be encouraging him.

He was more in love with her than Emma had supposed;

It was a sad change. They had been meeting almost every day since his arrival. Certainly his being at Randalls had given great spirit to the last two weeks— indescribable spirit; the idea, the expectation of seeing him which every morning had brought, the assurance of his attentions, his liveliness, his manners!

It had been a very happy fortnight, and forlorn must be the sinking from it into the common course of Hartfield days. To complete every other recommendation, he had almost told her that he loved her. What strength, or what constancy of affection he might be subject to, was another point; but at present she could not doubt his having a decidedly warm admiration, a conscious preference of herself;

she must be a little in love with him, in spite of every previous determination against it.