Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

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It was almost enough to make her think of marrying.
There he was, among the standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be dancing,—not classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whist-players, who were pretending to feel an interest in the dance till their rubbers were made up —so young as he looked!—He could not have appeared to greater advantage perhaps anywhere, than where he had placed himself.
His tall, firm, upright figure, among the bulky forms and stooping shoulders of the elderly men, was such as Emma felt must draw every body's eyes;
excepting her own partner, there was not one among the whole row of young men who could be compared with him.—
He moved a few steps nearer, and those few steps were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike a manner, with what natural grace, he must have danced, would he but take the trouble.—
he could love a ballroom better, and could like Frank Churchill better.—
She must not flatter herself that he thought of her dancing, but if he were criticising her behaviour, she did not feel afraid. There was nothing like flirtation between her and her partner. They seemed more like cheerful, easy friends, than lovers. That Frank Churchill thought less of her than he had done, was indubitable.
the only young lady sitting down;—
how there could be any one disengaged
He would not ask Harriet to dance if it were possible to be avoided: she was sure he would not—
This was Mr. Elton! the amiable, obliging, gentle Mr. Elton.—
She did not think he was quite so hardened as his wife, though growing very like her;—
Mrs. Weston begs you to put on your tippet.
she is afraid there will be draughts in the passage, though every thing has been done — —One door nailed up —Quantities of matting —
they had come to so good an understanding respecting the Eltons, and
their opinions of both husband and wife were so much alike;
Harriet rational, Frank Churchill not too much in love, and Mr. Knightley not wanting to quarrel with her, how very happy a summer must be before her!
Frank Churchill, with Harriet leaning on his arm —actually Harriet!—
there being such a set of people in the neighbourhood to Mr. Knightley,
Such an adventure as this,—a fine young man and a lovely young woman thrown together in such a way, could hardly fail of suggesting certain ideas to the coldest heart and the steadiest brain.
Could a linguist, could a grammarian, could even a mathematician have seen what she did, have witnessed their appearance together, and heard their history of it, without feeling that circumstances had been at work to make them peculiarly interesting to each other?—How much more must an imaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation and foresight!—
It was a very extraordinary thing! Nothing of the sort had ever occurred before to any young ladies in the place, within her memory; no rencontre, no alarm of the kind;—and now it had happened to the very person, and at the very hour, when the other very person was chancing to pass by to rescue her!—It certainly was very extraordinary!—
He was wishing to get the better of his attachment to herself, she just recovering from her mania for Mr. Elton. It seemed as if every thing united to promise the most interesting consequences. It was not possible that the occurrence should not be strongly recommending each to the other.
Every thing was to take its natural course, however, neither impelled nor assisted. She would not stir a step, nor drop a hint. No, she had had enough of interference. There could be no harm in a scheme, a mere passive scheme. It was no more than a wish. Beyond it she would on no account proceed.
the gipsy, though she had told no fortune, might be proved to have made Harriet's.—
Should she proceed no farther?—should she let it pass, and seem to suspect nothing?—Perhaps Harriet might think her cold or angry if she did; or perhaps if she were totally silent, it might only drive Harriet into asking her to hear too much;
Plain dealing was always best.
Its tendency would be to raise and refine her mind— and it must be saving her from the danger of degradation.
to go in and drink tea with him.
dear Miss Woodhouse's most obliging invitation.
It was owing to her persuasion, as
his being out in bad weather did him a great deal of harm.
she never heard a syllable of it before,
Her introductions and recommendations must all wait, and every projected party be still only talked of.
every thing need not be put off. Why should not they explore to Box Hill though the Sucklings did not come? They could go there again with them in the autumn.
Two or three more of the chosen only were to be admitted to join them, and it was to be done in a quiet, unpretending, elegant way, infinitely superior to the bustle and preparation, the regular eating and drinking, and picnic parade of the Eltons and the Sucklings.
an arrangement which would probably expose her even to the degradation of being said to be of Mrs. Elton's party!
to have no one preferred to herself.—
It was just what it ought to be, and it looked what it was—
as the residence of a family of such true gentility, untainted in blood and understanding.—Some faults of temper John Knightley had; but Isabella had connected herself unexceptionably. She had given them neither men, nor names, nor places, that could raise a blush.
if he were come—
she was a little uneasy.—She had some fears of his horse.
a most desirable situation, was in question. Mrs. Elton had received notice of it that morning, and was in raptures. It was not with Mrs. Suckling, it was not with Mrs. Bragge, but in felicity and splendour it fell short only of them: it was with a cousin of Mrs. Bragge, an acquaintance of Mrs. Suckling, a lady known at Maple Grove. Delightful, charming, superior, first circles, spheres, lines, ranks, every thing—
she would not at present engage in any thing,
being authorised to write an acquiescence by the morrow's post.—
How Jane could bear it at all,
Mr. Knightley and Harriet distinct from the rest, quietly leading the way.
Mr. Knightley and Harriet!—
It was an odd tete-a-tete; but she was glad to see it.—There had been a time when he would have scorned her as a companion, and turned from her with little ceremony. Now they seemed in pleasant conversation.
It was too old a story.—Robert Martin had probably ceased to think of Harriet.—

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