Austen Said:

Patterns of Diction in Jane Austen's Major Novels


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“Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all!— To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an evil.”
not to be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence.
their silence was to last through the two dances,
it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk,
“It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some sort of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.”
“Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent.”
“Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible.”
“for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb.”
“I must not decide on my own performance.”
“When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance.”
“He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship,”
“and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”
“I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine.”
“Books — oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings.”
“No — I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else.”
“Yes, always,”
“I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that
You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created .”
“And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?”
“It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first.”
“Merely to the illustration of your character,”
“I am trying to make it out.”
“I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”
“But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity.”
“So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham! Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand questions; and I find that the young man quite forgot to tell you, among his other communication, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy's using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has always been remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated Mr. Darcy in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother thought that he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way. His coming into the country at all is a most insolent thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite's guilt; but really, considering his descent, one could not expect much better.”
“His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same,”
“for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself.”
“I beg your pardon,”
“Excuse my interference — It was kindly meant.”
“Insolent girl!”
“You are much mistaken if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr. Darcy.”
“I want to know,”
“what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which case you may be sure of my pardon.”
“I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing satisfactory to tell you.
Mr. Bingley
is perfectly convinced that
and I am sorry to say that by his account as well as his sister's, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's regard.”
“Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?”
“No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton.”
“This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am satisfied. But what does he say of the living?”
“He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but
he believes that
“I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity,”
“but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr. Bingley's defense of his friend was a very able one I dare say; but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture to still think of both gentlemen as I did before.”
“You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy!”
Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt;