Austen Said:

"I have no doubt of it,"

"And who is Miss Williams?"

"Where, pray?"—

"Why should you imagine, Elinor, that we did not go there, or that we did not see the house? Is not it what you have often wished to do yourself?"

"Mr. Willoughby however is the only person who can have a right to shew that house; and as he went in an open carriage, it was impossible to have any other companion. I never spent a pleasanter morning in my life."

"On the contrary, nothing can be a stronger proof of it, Elinor; for if there had been any real impropriety in what I did, I should have been sensible of it at the time, for we always know when we are acting wrong, and with such a conviction I could have had no pleasure."

"If the impertinent remarks of Mrs. Jennings are to be the proof of impropriety in conduct, we are all offending every moment of our lives. I value not her censure any more than I should do her commendation. I am not sensible of having done anything wrong in walking over Mrs. Smith's grounds, or in seeing her house. They will one day be Mr. Willoughby's, and —"

"Perhaps, Elinor, it WAS rather ill-judged in me to go to Allenham; but Mr. Willoughby wanted particularly to shew me the place; and it is a charming house, I assure you. — There is one remarkably pretty sitting room up stairs; of a nice comfortable size for constant use, and with modern furniture it would be delightful. It is a corner room, and has windows on two sides. On one side you look across the bowling-green, behind the house, to a beautiful hanging wood, and on the other you have a view of the church and village, and, beyond them, of those fine bold hills that we have so often admired. I did not see it to advantage, for nothing could be more forlorn than the furniture, — but if it were newly fitted up — a couple of hundred pounds, Willoughby says, would make it one of the pleasantest summer-rooms in England."

"Months!"

"No — nor many weeks."

"It is he; it is indeed; — I know it is!"—

"He has, he has,"

"I am sure he has. His air, his coat, his horse. I knew how soon he would come."

"A fortnight!"

"And how does dear, dear Norland look?"

"Oh,"

"with what transporting sensation have I formerly seen them fall! How have I delighted, as I walked, to see them driven in showers about me by the wind! What feelings have they, the season, the air altogether inspired! Now there is no one to regard them. They are seen only as a nuisance, swept hastily off, and driven as much as possible from the sight."

"No; my feelings are not often shared, not often understood. But SOMETIMES they are."

"Now, Edward,"

"here is Barton valley. Look up to it, and be tranquil if you can. Look at those hills! Did you ever see their equals? To the left is Barton park, amongst those woods and plantations. You may see the end of the house. And there, beneath that farthest hill, which rises with such grandeur, is our cottage."

"How can you think of dirt, with such objects before you?"

"How strange!"

"No, not all,"

"we could not be more unfortunately situated."

"No,"

"nor how many painful moments."

"Strange that it would!"

"What have wealth or grandeur to do with happiness?"

"Elinor, for shame!"

"money can only give happiness where there is nothing else to give it. Beyond a competence, it can afford no real satisfaction, as far as mere self is concerned."

"About eighteen hundred or two thousand a year; not more than THAT."

"And yet two thousand a-year is a very moderate income,"

"A family cannot well be maintained on a smaller. I am sure I am not extravagant in my demands. A proper establishment of servants, a carriage, perhaps two, and hunters, cannot be supported on less."

"But most people do."

"Oh that they would!"

"I love to be reminded of the past, Edward — whether it be melancholy or gay, I love to recall it — and you will never offend me by talking of former times. You are very right in supposing how my money would be spent — some of it, at least — my loose cash would certainly be employed in improving my collection of music and books."

"No, Edward, I should have something else to do with it."

"Undoubtedly. At my time of life opinions are tolerably fixed. It is not likely that I should now see or hear any thing to change them."

"Nay, Edward,"

"you need not reproach me. You are not very gay yourself."

"But I thought it was right, Elinor,"

"to be guided wholly by the opinion of other people. I thought our judgments were given us merely to be subservient to those of neighbours. This has always been your doctrine, I am sure."

"But you would still be reserved,"

"and that is worse."

"Yes, very."

"I am afraid it is but too true,"

"but why should you boast of it?"

"It is very true,"

"that admiration of landscape scenery is become a mere jargon. Every body pretends to feel and tries to describe with the taste and elegance of him who first defined what picturesque beauty was. I detest jargon of every kind, and sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to describe them in but what was worn and hackneyed out of all sense and meaning."

"I never saw you wear a ring before, Edward,"