Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

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The past, present, future, everything was terrible.
Selfish and ungrateful! to have appeared so to him! She was miserable for ever. She had no one to take her part, to counsel, or speak for her. Her only friend was absent. He might have softened his father; but all, perhaps all, would think her selfish and ungrateful. She might have to endure the reproach again and again; she might hear it, or see it, or know it to exist for ever in every connexion about her.
yet, if he really loved her, and were unhappy too! It was all wretchedness together.
To be spared from her aunt Norris's interminable reproaches!
Anything might be bearable rather than such reproaches. Even to see Mr. Crawford would be less overpowering.
to prove to him that she did desire his comfort, and sought to regain his favour;
Not to excite suspicion by her look or manner was now an object worth attaining; and she felt equal to almost anything that might save her from her aunt Norris.
A fire! it seemed too much;
Sir Thomas could have leisure to think of such a trifle again;
so it was to be every day. Sir Thomas had given orders for it.
he did not mean there should be any change, and
it was only her own conscience that could fancy any;
all the reason she had to bless the kindness which saved her from the same spirit of reproach, exerted on a more momentous subject.
she had done right:
her judgment had not misled her. For the purity of her intentions she could answer;
her uncle's displeasure was abating, and would abate farther as he considered the matter with more impartiality, and felt, as a good man must feel, how wretched, and how unpardonable, how hopeless, and how wicked it was to marry without affection.
When the meeting with which she was threatened for the morrow was past, she could not but flatter herself that the subject would be finally concluded, and Mr. Crawford once gone from Mansfield,
everything would soon be as if no such subject had existed. She would not, could not believe, that Mr. Crawford's affection for her could distress him long; his mind was not of that sort. London would soon bring its cure. In London he would soon learn to wonder at his infatuation, and be thankful for the right reason in her which had saved him from its evil consequences.
how he could, after such language from her as she felt herself obliged to use, was not to be understood.
she did not love him, could not love him, was sure she never should love him;
such a change was quite impossible;
the subject was most painful to her;
she must entreat him never to mention it again, to allow her to leave him at once, and let it be considered as concluded for ever.
in her opinion their dispositions were so totally dissimilar as to make mutual affection incompatible; and that they were unfitted for each other by nature, education, and habit.
She must be courteous, and she must be compassionate.
a perseverance so selfish and ungenerous. Here was again a want of delicacy and regard for others which had formerly so struck and disgusted her. Here was again a something of the same Mr. Crawford whom she had so reprobated before. How evidently was there a gross want of feeling and humanity where his own pleasure was concerned; and alas! how always known no principle to supply as a duty what the heart was deficient in! Had her own affections been as free as perhaps they ought to have been, he never could have engaged them.
too great indulgence and luxury of a fire upstairs:
her being never under any circumstances able to love Mr. Crawford,
how much of the truth was unknown to him, she believed she had no right to wonder at the line of conduct he pursued. He, who had married a daughter to Mr. Rushworth: romantic delicacy was certainly not to be expected from him. She must do her duty, and trust that time might make her duty easier than it now was.
She could not,
suppose Mr. Crawford's attachment would hold out for ever; she could not but imagine that steady, unceasing discouragement from herself would put an end to it in time.
It was an injury and affront to Julia, who ought to have been Mr. Crawford's choice;
If her aunt's feelings were against her, nothing could be hoped from attacking her understanding.
They sat so much longer than usual in the dining-parlour, that she was sure they must be talking of her;
he had got the very speech.
Miss Crawford's power was all returning. He had been speaking of her cheerfully from the hour of his coming home. His avoiding her was quite at an end. He had dined at the Parsonage only the preceding day.
Her secret was still her own; and while that was the case,
she could resign herself to almost everything.
she might never see him again till he were the husband of some other woman.
everything was now in a fairer train for Miss Crawford's marrying Edmund than it had ever been before.
On his side the inclination was stronger, on hers less equivocal. His objections, the scruples of his integrity, seemed all done away, nobody could tell how; and the doubts and hesitations of her ambition were equally got over— and equally without apparent reason. It could only be imputed to increasing attachment. His good and her bad feelings yielded to love, and such love must unite them.
He was to go to town as soon as some business relative to Thornton Lacey were completed— perhaps within a fortnight; he talked of going, he loved to talk of it; and when once with her again, Fanny could not doubt the rest.
Her acceptance must be as certain as his offer;
In their very last conversation, Miss Crawford, in spite of some amiable sensations, and much personal kindness, had still been Miss Crawford; still shewn a mind led astray and bewildered, and without any suspicion of being so; darkened, yet fancying itself light. She might love, but she did not deserve Edmund by any other sentiment.
there was scarcely a second feeling in common between them;
if Edmund's influence in this season of love had already done so little in clearing her judgment, and regulating her notions, his worth would be finally wasted on her even in years of matrimony.
To be in the centre of such a circle, loved by so many, and more loved by all than she had ever been before; to feel affection without fear or restraint; to feel herself the equal of those who surrounded her; to be at peace from all mention of the Crawfords, safe from every look which could be fancied a reproach on their account.
Edmund, too —to be two months from him (and perhaps she might be allowed to make her absence three) must do her good. At a distance, unassailed by his looks or his kindness, and safe from the perpetual irritation of knowing his heart, and striving to avoid his confidence, she should be able to reason herself into a properer state; she should be able to think of him as in London, and arranging everything there, without wretchedness. What might have been hard to bear at Mansfield was to become a slight evil at Portsmouth.
The only drawback was the doubt of her aunt Bertram's being comfortable without her. She was of use to no one else; but there she might be missed to a degree that she did not like to think of;
very little more than that Sir Thomas thought Fanny ought to go, and therefore that she must.