Austen Said:

to play something more.

"If you are very kind,"

"it will be one of the waltzes we danced last night;—let me live them over again. You did not enjoy them as I did; you appeared tired the whole time. I believe you were glad we danced no longer; but I would have given worlds —all the worlds one ever has to give —for another half-hour."

"What felicity it is to hear a tune again which has made one happy!—If I mistake not that was danced at Weymouth."

"Here is something quite new to me. Do you know it?—Cramer.—And here are a new set of Irish melodies. That, from such a quarter, one might expect. This was all sent with the instrument. Very thoughtful of Colonel Campbell, was not it?—He knew Miss Fairfax could have no music here. I honour that part of the attention particularly; it shews it to have been so thoroughly from the heart. Nothing hastily done; nothing incomplete. True affection only could have prompted it."

"I hope she does. I would have her understand me. I am not in the least ashamed of my meaning."

"I am very glad you did, and that you communicated it to me. I have now a key to all her odd looks and ways. Leave shame to her. If she does wrong, she ought to feel it."

"I do not see much sign of it. She is playing Robin Adair at this moment— his favourite."

"How is your niece, Miss Bates?—I want to inquire after you all, but particularly your niece. How is Miss Fairfax?—I hope she caught no cold last night. How is she to-day? Tell me how Miss Fairfax is."

"I am going to Kingston. Can I do any thing for you?"

"Mrs. Cole has servants to send. Can I do any thing for you?"

"Well,"

"for five minutes, perhaps."

"No, not now, I thank you. I could not stay two minutes. I must get on to Kingston as fast as I can."

"No, no; your room is full enough. I will call another day, and hear the pianoforte."

"Oh! very delightful indeed; I can say nothing less, for I suppose Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill are hearing every thing that passes. And

I do not see why Miss Fairfax should not be mentioned too. I think Miss Fairfax dances very well; and Mrs. Weston is the very best country-dance player, without exception, in England. Now, if your friends have any gratitude, they will say something pretty loud about you and me in return; but I cannot stay to hear it."

"What is the matter now?"

Mr. Knightley cannot stop. He is going to Kingston.

if he could do any thing...."

'Can I do any thing for you at Kingston?'

the dance begun at Mr. Cole's should be finished there —

the same party should be collected, and the same musician engaged,

"You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five,"

"And there will be the two Gilberts, young Cox, my father, and myself, besides Mr. Knightley. Yes, that will be quite enough for pleasure. You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five; and for five couple there will be plenty of room."

"Might not they use both rooms, and dance across the passage?"

"Oh! no,"

"it would be the extreme of imprudence. I could not bear it for Emma!—Emma is not strong. She would catch a dreadful cold. So would poor little Harriet. So you would all. Mrs. Weston, you would be quite laid up; do not let them talk of such a wild thing. Pray do not let them talk of it. That young man

is very thoughtless. Do not tell his father, but that young man is not quite the thing. He has been opening the doors very often this evening, and keeping them open very inconsiderately. He does not think of the draught. I do not mean to set you against him, but indeed he is not quite the thing!"

"We were too magnificent,"

"We allowed unnecessary room. Ten couple may stand here very well."

"Very true,"

"it was very bad."

"I think there will be very tolerable room for ten couple."

"There is no denying it,"

"I agree with you exactly. A crowd in a little room— Miss Woodhouse, you have the art of giving pictures in a few words. Exquisite, quite exquisite!—Still, however, having proceeded so far, one is unwilling to give the matter up. It would be a disappointment to my father—and altogether— I do not know that— I am rather of opinion that ten couple might stand here very well."

"Well, Miss Woodhouse,"

"your inclination for dancing has not been quite frightened away, I hope, by the terrors of my father's little rooms. I bring a new proposal on the subject:—a thought of my father's, which waits only your approbation to be acted upon. May I hope for the honour of your hand for the two first dances of this little projected ball, to be given, not at Randalls, but at the Crown Inn?"

"Yes; if you and Mr. Woodhouse see no objection, and I trust you cannot,

my father hopes

his friends will be so kind as to visit him there. Better accommodations, he can promise them, and not a less grateful welcome than at Randalls.

It is his own idea.

Mrs. Weston sees

This is what we all feel. Oh! you were perfectly right! Ten couple, in either of the Randalls rooms, would have been insufferable!—Dreadful!—I felt how right you were the whole time, but was too anxious for securing any thing to like to yield. Is not it a good exchange?—You consent— I hope you consent?"

"No; he thought it very far from an improvement— a very bad plan —much worse than the other. A room at an inn was always damp and dangerous; never properly aired, or fit to be inhabited. If they must dance, they had better dance at Randalls. He had never been in the room at the Crown in his life —did not know the people who kept it by sight.—Oh! no —a very bad plan. They would catch worse colds at the Crown than anywhere."

"I was going to observe, sir,"

"that one of the great recommendations of this change would be the very little danger of any body's catching cold —so much less danger at the Crown than at Randalls! Mr. Perry might have reason to regret the alteration, but nobody else could."

"Sir,"

"you are very much mistaken if you suppose Mr. Perry to be that sort of character. Mr. Perry is extremely concerned when any of us are ill. But I do not understand how the room at the Crown can be safer for you than your father's house."

"From the very circumstance of its being larger, sir. We shall have no occasion to open the windows at all —not once the whole evening; and it is that dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting in cold air upon heated bodies, which (as you well know, sir) does the mischief."