Austen Said:

in spite of herself, she had always admitted a hope, while Edward remained single, that something would occur to prevent his marrying Lucy; that some resolution of his own, some mediation of friends, or some more eligible opportunity of establishment for the lady, would arise to assist the happiness of all. But he was now married;

What had Edward felt on being within four miles from Barton, on seeing her mother's servant, on hearing Lucy's message!

They would soon,

be settled at Delaford.

some one of their connections in London would write to them to announce the event, and give farther particulars, —

They were all thoughtless or indolent.

Now she could hear more;

But — it was NOT Colonel Brandon — neither his air — nor his height.

it must be Edward.

it WAS Edward.

she hoped no coolness, no slight, would appear in their behaviour to him; —

to hope that he had left Mrs. Ferrars very well.

How they could be thrown together, and by what attraction Robert could be drawn on to marry a girl, of whose beauty she had herself heard him speak without any admiration, — a girl too already engaged to his brother, and on whose account that brother had been thrown off by his family —

perhaps, at first accidentally meeting, the vanity of the one had been so worked on by the flattery of the other, as to lead by degrees to all the rest.

That Lucy had certainly meant to deceive, to go off with a flourish of malice against him in her message by Thomas,

a well-disposed, good-hearted girl, and thoroughly attached to himself.

not only to be better acquainted with him, but to have an opportunity of convincing him that he no longer resented his giving him the living of Delaford —

Robert's offence would serve no other purpose than to enrich Fanny.

had quite doted upon the worthless hussy, and was now, by all accounts, almost broken-hearted, at Oxford. —

Mrs. Ferrars was the most unfortunate of women — poor Fanny had suffered agonies of sensibility —

Robert's offence was unpardonable, but Lucy's was infinitely worse. Neither of them were ever again to be mentioned to Mrs. Ferrars; and even, if she might hereafter be induced to forgive her son, his wife should never be acknowledged as her daughter, nor be permitted to appear in her presence. The secrecy with which everything had been carried on between them, was rationally treated as enormously heightening the crime, because, had any suspicion of it occurred to the others, proper measures would have been taken to prevent the marriage;

join with him in regretting that Lucy's engagement with Edward had not rather been fulfilled, than that she should thus be the means of spreading misery farther in the family. —

in Miss Morton he would have a woman of higher rank and larger fortune;

Miss Morton was the daughter of a nobleman with thirty thousand pounds, while Miss Dashwood was only the daughter of a private gentleman with no more than THREE;

one of the happiest couples in the world.

too old to be married, —

as bearing no comparison with Mrs. Brandon.

The event had every promise of happiness for her friend. Mr. Weston was a man of unexceptionable character, easy fortune, suitable age, and pleasant manners; and there was some satisfaction in considering with what self-denying, generous friendship she had always wished and promoted the match;

The want of Miss Taylor would be felt every hour of every day.

her past kindness— — the kindness, the affection of sixteen years—— how she had taught and how she had played with her from five years old— — how she had devoted all her powers to attach and amuse her in health—and how nursed her through the various illnesses of childhood.

A large debt of gratitude was owing here; but the intercourse of the last seven years, the equal footing and perfect unreserve which had soon followed Isabella's marriage, on their being left to each other,

She had been a friend and companion such as few possessed: intelligent, well-informed, useful, gentle, knowing all the ways of the family, interested in all its concerns, and peculiarly interested in herself, in every pleasure, every scheme of hers— — one to whom she could speak every thought as it arose, and who had such an affection for her as could never find fault.

How was she to bear the change?—

It was true that her friend was going only half a mile from them;

great must be the difference between a Mrs. Weston, only half a mile from them, and a Miss Taylor in the house;

not one among them who could be accepted in lieu of Miss Taylor for even half a day.

all were well in Brunswick Square.

'poor Miss Taylor.'

Mr. Weston would never marry again. Oh dear, no! Mr. Weston, who had been a widower so long, and who seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife, so constantly occupied either in his business in town or among his friends here, always acceptable wherever he went, always cheerful— Mr. Weston need not spend a single evening in the year alone if he did not like it. Oh no! Mr. Weston certainly would never marry again.

'success,'"

he never saw such a handsome letter in his life."

dear Emma was of no feeble character; she was more equal to her situation than most girls would have been, and had sense, and energy, and spirits that might be hoped would bear her well and happily through its little difficulties and privations. And then there was such comfort in the very easy distance of Randalls from Hartfield, so convenient for even solitary female walking, and in Mr. Weston's disposition and circumstances, which would make the approaching season no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in the week together.

wedding-cake might certainly disagree with many— perhaps with most people, unless taken moderately.

all the little Perrys being seen with a slice of Mrs. Weston's wedding-cake in their hands:

a most fortunate creature, and surrounded with blessings in such an excellent mother, and so many good neighbours and friends, and a home that wanted for nothing.

to be allowed to bring Miss Smith with her;

her altogether very engaging —not inconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk— and yet so far from pushing, shewing so proper and becoming a deference, seeming so pleasantly grateful for being admitted to Hartfield, and so artlessly impressed by the appearance of every thing in so superior a style to what she had been used to, that she must have good sense, and deserve encouragement. Encouragement should be given. Those soft blue eyes, and all those natural graces, should not be wasted on the inferior society of Highbury and its connexions. The acquaintance she had already formed were unworthy of her. The friends from whom she had just parted, though very good sort of people, must be doing her harm.

Mr. Knightley thought highly of them—but they must be coarse and unpolished, and very unfit to be the intimates of a girl who wanted only a little more knowledge and elegance to be quite perfect. She would notice her; she would improve her; she would detach her from her bad acquaintance, and introduce her into good society; she would form her opinions and her manners. It would be an interesting, and certainly a very kind undertaking; highly becoming her own situation in life, her leisure, and powers.

actually shaken hands with her at last!

Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile, grateful disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be guided by any one she looked up to. Her early attachment to herself was very amiable; and her inclination for good company, and power of appreciating what was elegant and clever, shewed that there was no want of taste, though strength of understanding must not be expected.