Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

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was a very genteel, pretty kind of girl.
how many sisters she had, whether they were older or younger than herself, whether any of them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where they had been educated, what carriage her father kept, and what had been her mother's maiden name?
had not been the case.
the first creature who had ever dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence.
Charlotte should not prefer the dining-parlour for common use; it was a better sized room, and had a more pleasant aspect;
her friend had an excellent reason for what she did, for Mr. Collins would undoubtedly have been much less in his own apartment, had they sat in one equally lively;
there might be other family livings to be disposed of,
Mrs. Collins's joints of meat were too large for her family.
though this great lady was not in the commission of the peace of the county, she was a most active magistrate in her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her by Mr. Collins; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to be quarrelsome, discontented, or too poor, she sallied forth into the village to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold them into harmony and plenty.
though there were not many of her acquaintances whom she did not prefer, his coming would furnish one comparatively new to look at in their Rosings parties, and she might be amused in seeing how hopeless Miss Bingley's designs on him were, by his behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently destined by Lady Catherine,
what an honour they might expect,
he looked a little confused
what they were talking of.
he might have been just as likely to marry her, had she been his relation.
he must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and Netherfield,
there was less captivating softness in Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners,
he might have the best informed mind.
He certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. It was an earnest, stedfast gaze,
whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind.
it admitted not of a doubt,
all her friend's dislike would vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power.
He was beyond comparison the most pleasant man; he certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but, to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage in the church, and his cousin could have none at all.
all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought,
it was a favourite haunt of hers.
How it could occur a second time, therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and even a third.
It seemed like wilful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was not merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her.
he was asking some odd unconnected questions — about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins's happiness;
of Rosings and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying there too.
His words seemed to imply it. Could he have Colonel Fitzwilliam in his thoughts?
if he meant anything, he must mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter.
To interrupt a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed,
she had somehow or other got pretty near the truth.
so just a picture of Mr. Darcy,
It was not to be supposed that any other people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There could not exist in the world two men over whom Mr. Darcy could have such boundless influence.
That he had been concerned in the measures taken to separate Mr. Bingley and Jane
the principal design and arrangement of them.
If his own vanity, however, did not mislead him, he was the cause, his pride and caprice were the cause, of all that Jane had suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a while every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted.
were Colonel Fitzwilliam's words; and those strong objections probably were, her having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in business in London.
any objections there had material weight with Mr. Darcy, whose pride,
would receive a deeper wound from the want of importance in his friend's connections, than from their want of sense;
he had been partly governed by this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of retaining Mr. Bingley for his sister.
not to attend her cousins to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea.
They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering. But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that cheerfulness which had been used to characterise her style, and which, proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself and kindly disposed towards everyone, had been scarcely ever clouded.
Mr. Darcy's shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict,
his visit to Rosings was to end on the day after the next
in less than a fortnight she should herself be with Jane again, , and enabled to contribute to the recovery of her spirits, by all that affection could do.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear that he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not mean to be unhappy about him.
he had no doubt of a favourable answer.
He spoke of apprehension and anxiety, but his countenance expressed real security.
That she should receive an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy! That he should have been in love with her for so many months! So much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of all the objections which had made him prevent his friend's marrying her sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his own case — was almost incredible! It was gratifying to have inspired unconsciously so strong an affection. But his pride, his abominable pride — his shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to Jane — his unpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he could not justify it, and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr. Wickham, his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny,