Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels

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"Aye, I see what you are thinking of, the pianoforte. What is to become of that?—Very true. Poor dear Jane was talking of it just now.—
'You must go,'
said she.
'You and I must part. You will have no business here.—Let it stay, however,'
said she;
'give it houseroom till Colonel Campbell comes back. I shall talk about it to him; he will settle for me; he will help me out of all my difficulties.'
—And to this day, I do believe, she knows not whether it was his present or his daughter's."
"Nothing at all. But is not this a sudden scheme?"
Time, however,
would tell him that they ought to be friends again.
He would have judged better,
if he had not stopped.—
nothing became him more.—It was with him, of so simple, yet so dignified a nature.—
It spoke such perfect amity.—
she wished she had left her ten minutes earlier;—it would have been a great pleasure to talk over Jane Fairfax's situation with Mr. Knightley.—
but it might have happened at a better time—and to have had longer notice of it, would have been pleasanter.—
It was a pity that she had not come back earlier!
"Poor Mrs. Churchill! no doubt she had been suffering a great deal: more than any body had ever supposed—and continual pain would try the temper. It was a sad event— a great shock— with all her faults, what would Mr. Churchill do without her? Mr. Churchill's loss would be dreadful indeed. Mr. Churchill would never get over it."—
how Frank might be affected by the event, how benefited, how freed.
Now, an attachment to Harriet Smith would have nothing to encounter. Mr. Churchill, independent of his wife, was feared by nobody; an easy, guidable man, to be persuaded into any thing by his nephew. All that remained to be wished was, that the nephew should form the attachment,
to be of use to her;
to shew a value for her society, and testify respect and consideration.
to prevail on her to spend a day at Hartfield.
To take her —be it only an hour or two —from her aunt, to give her change of air and scene, and quiet rational conversation, even for an hour or two, might do her good;
she would call for her in the carriage at any hour that Jane would name—
she had Mr. Perry's decided opinion, in favour of such exercise for his patient.
her own note had deserved something better;
thinking an airing might be of the greatest service—
Jane was quite unpersuadable; the mere proposal of going out seemed to make her worse.—
"Indeed, the truth was, that poor dear Jane could not bear to see any body— any body at all —Mrs. Elton, indeed, could not be denied—and Mrs. Cole had made such a point—and Mrs. Perry had said so much—but, except them, Jane would really see nobody."
Jane would hardly eat any thing:—Mr. Perry recommended nourishing food; but every thing they could command (and never had any body such good neighbours) was distasteful.
"dear Jane would not be satisfied without its being sent back; it was a thing she could not take—and, moreover,
she insisted on her saying,
that she was not at all in want of any thing."
she could have no doubt— putting every thing together —that Jane was resolved to receive no kindness from her.
could Mr. Knightley have been privy to all her attempts of assisting Jane Fairfax, could he even have seen into her heart, he would not, on this occasion, have found any thing to reprove.
"Is she unwell?"
"Certainly. This moment, if you please. It is impossible to refuse what you ask in such a way. But what can be the matter?—Is she really not ill?"
"Now,"—
"now Mr. Weston, do let me know what has happened."
"Break it to me,"
"Good God!—Mr. Weston, tell me at once.—Something has happened in Brunswick Square. I know it has. Tell me, I charge you tell me this moment what it is."
"Mr. Weston do not trifle with me.—Consider how many of my dearest friends are now in Brunswick Square. Which of them is it?—I charge you by all that is sacred, not to attempt concealment."
"Your word!—why not your honour!—why not say upon your honour, that it has nothing to do with any of them? Good Heavens!—What can be to be broke to me, that does not relate to one of that family?"
the probability of its being some money concern— — something just come to light, of a disagreeable nature in the circumstances of the family,—something which the late event at Richmond had brought forward.
"Who is that gentleman on horseback?"
"Has your son been with you, then?"
"What is it my dear friend? Something of a very unpleasant nature, I find, has occurred;—do let me know directly what it is. I have been walking all this way in complete suspense. We both abhor suspense. Do not let mine continue longer. It will do you good to speak of your distress, whatever it may be."
"Have you indeed no idea?"
"Cannot you, my dear Emma— cannot you form a guess as to what you are to hear?"