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Emma's eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating, in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like hers, once opening to suspicion, made rapid progress. She touched--she admitted--she acknowledged the whole truth. Why wa... | No speaker | must say that I have."<|quote|>Emma's eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating, in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like hers, once opening to suspicion, made rapid progress. She touched--she admitted--she ackno... | modestly, but not fearfully--" "I must say that I have."<|quote|>Emma's eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating, in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like hers, once opening to suspicion, made rapid progress. Sh... | too good for that, I am sure." Harriet was standing at one of the windows. Emma turned round to look at her in consternation, and hastily said, "Have you any idea of Mr. Knightley's returning your affection?" "Yes," replied Harriet modestly, but not fearfully--" "I must say that I have."<|quote|>Emma's eyes were instan... | even as this, may have occurred before--and if I should be so fortunate, beyond expression, as to--if Mr. Knightley should really--if _he_ does not mind the disparity, I hope, dear Miss Woodhouse, you will not set yourself against it, and try to put difficulties in the way. But you are too good for that, I am sure." Ha... | _is_ possible--" She paused a few moments. Emma could not speak. "I do not wonder, Miss Woodhouse," she resumed, "that you should feel a great difference between the two, as to me or as to any body. You must think one five hundred million times more above me than the other. But I hope, Miss Woodhouse, that supposing--t... | you, it was extremely natural:--and you agreed to it, expressing yourself very warmly as to your sense of that service, and mentioning even what your sensations had been in seeing him come forward to your rescue.--The impression of it is strong on my memory." "Oh, dear," cried Harriet, "now I recollect what you mean; b... | you mean?--Good Heaven! what do you mean?--Mistake you!--Am I to suppose then?--" She could not speak another word.--Her voice was lost; and she sat down, waiting in great terror till Harriet should answer. Harriet, who was standing at some distance, and with face turned from her, did not immediately say any thing; and... | and asking me to dance, when Mr. Elton would not stand up with me; and when there was no other partner in the room. That was the kind action; that was the noble benevolence and generosity; that was the service which made me begin to feel how superior he was to every other being upon earth." "Good God!" cried Emma, "thi... | Emma |
"Might he not?--Is not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin's interest in view?" | Emma | reflection, venture the following question.<|quote|>"Might he not?--Is not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin's interest in view?"</|quote|>But Harriet rejected the suspicion | she did, after a little reflection, venture the following question.<|quote|>"Might he not?--Is not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin's interest in view?"</|quote|>But Harriet rejected the suspicion with spiri... | all, which was much more (as Emma felt) than he had acknowledged to _her_. The superior degree of confidence towards Harriet, which this one article marked, gave her severe pain. On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after a little reflection, venture the following question.<|quote|>"Might he n... | the very last morning of his being at Hartfield--though, when he first came in, he had said that he could not stay five minutes--and his having told her, during their conversation, that though he must go to London, it was very much against his inclination that he left home at all, which was much more (as Emma felt) tha... | came, and he had taken pains (as she was convinced) to draw her from the rest to himself--and at first, he had talked to her in a more particular way than he had ever done before, in a very particular way indeed!--(Harriet could not recall it without a blush.) He seemed to be almost asking her, whether her affections w... | with her. Emma knew it to have been very much the case. She had often observed the change, to almost the same extent.--Harriet repeated expressions of approbation and praise from him--and Emma felt them to be in the closest agreement with what she had known of his opinion of Harriet. He praised her for being without ar... | with calmness, with even apparent kindness.--For her own advantage indeed, it was fit that the utmost extent of Harriet's hopes should be enquired into; and Harriet had done nothing to forfeit the regard and interest which had been so voluntarily formed and maintained--or to deserve to be slighted by the person, whose ... | used to do, and of his having indeed quite a different manner towards her; a manner of kindness and sweetness!--Latterly she had been more and more aware of it. When they had been all walking together, he had so often come and walked by her, and talked so very delightfully!--He seemed to want to be acquainted with her.... | Emma |
But Harriet rejected the suspicion with spirit. | No speaker | Mr. Martin's interest in view?"<|quote|>But Harriet rejected the suspicion with spirit.</|quote|>"Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was | to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin's interest in view?"<|quote|>But Harriet rejected the suspicion with spirit.</|quote|>"Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. | subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after a little reflection, venture the following question. "Might he not?--Is not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin's interest in view?"<|quote|>But Har... | though he must go to London, it was very much against his inclination that he left home at all, which was much more (as Emma felt) than he had acknowledged to _her_. The superior degree of confidence towards Harriet, which this one article marked, gave her severe pain. On the subject of the first of the two circumstanc... | had ever done before, in a very particular way indeed!--(Harriet could not recall it without a blush.) He seemed to be almost asking her, whether her affections were engaged.--But as soon as she (Miss Woodhouse) appeared likely to join them, he changed the subject, and began talking about farming:--The second, was his ... | felt them to be in the closest agreement with what she had known of his opinion of Harriet. He praised her for being without art or affectation, for having simple, honest, generous, feelings.--She knew that he saw such recommendations in Harriet; he had dwelt on them to her more than once.--Much that lived in Harriet's... | regard and interest which had been so voluntarily formed and maintained--or to deserve to be slighted by the person, whose counsels had never led her right.--Rousing from reflection, therefore, and subduing her emotion, she turned to Harriet again, and, in a more inviting accent, renewed the conversation; for as to the... | He praised her for being without art or affectation, for having simple, honest, generous, feelings.--She knew that he saw such recommendations in Harriet; he had dwelt on them to her more than once.--Much that lived in Harriet's memory, many little particulars of the notice she had received from him, a look, a speech, ... | Emma |
"Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it." | Harriet Smith | rejected the suspicion with spirit.<|quote|>"Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it."</|quote|>When Harriet had closed her | interest in view?" But Harriet rejected the suspicion with spirit.<|quote|>"Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it."</|quote|>When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her | circumstances, she did, after a little reflection, venture the following question. "Might he not?--Is not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin's interest in view?" But Harriet rejected the suspicion with spirit.... | was very much against his inclination that he left home at all, which was much more (as Emma felt) than he had acknowledged to _her_. The superior degree of confidence towards Harriet, which this one article marked, gave her severe pain. On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after a little refl... | particular way indeed!--(Harriet could not recall it without a blush.) He seemed to be almost asking her, whether her affections were engaged.--But as soon as she (Miss Woodhouse) appeared likely to join them, he changed the subject, and began talking about farming:--The second, was his having sat talking with her near... | agreement with what she had known of his opinion of Harriet. He praised her for being without art or affectation, for having simple, honest, generous, feelings.--She knew that he saw such recommendations in Harriet; he had dwelt on them to her more than once.--Much that lived in Harriet's memory, many little particular... | voluntarily formed and maintained--or to deserve to be slighted by the person, whose counsels had never led her right.--Rousing from reflection, therefore, and subduing her emotion, she turned to Harriet again, and, in a more inviting accent, renewed the conversation; for as to the subject which had first introduced it... | now heard them; but the two latest occurrences to be mentioned, the two of strongest promise to Harriet, were not without some degree of witness from Emma herself.--The first, was his walking with her apart from the others, in the lime-walk at Donwell, where they had been walking some time before Emma came, and he had ... | Emma |
When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope. | No speaker | to be suspected of it."<|quote|>When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope.</|quote|>"I never should have presumed | care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it."<|quote|>When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope.</|quote|>"I never should have presumed to think of it at | he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin's interest in view?" But Harriet rejected the suspicion with spirit. "Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it."<|quote|>When Harriet had closed her evidence, s... | confidence towards Harriet, which this one article marked, gave her severe pain. On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after a little reflection, venture the following question. "Might he not?--Is not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of your affections, he might ... | likely to join them, he changed the subject, and began talking about farming:--The second, was his having sat talking with her nearly half an hour before Emma came back from her visit, the very last morning of his being at Hartfield--though, when he first came in, he had said that he could not stay five minutes--and hi... | saw such recommendations in Harriet; he had dwelt on them to her more than once.--Much that lived in Harriet's memory, many little particulars of the notice she had received from him, a look, a speech, a removal from one chair to another, a compliment implied, a preference inferred, had been unnoticed, because unsuspec... | Harriet again, and, in a more inviting accent, renewed the conversation; for as to the subject which had first introduced it, the wonderful story of Jane Fairfax, that was quite sunk and lost.--Neither of them thought but of Mr. Knightley and themselves. Harriet, who had been standing in no unhappy reverie, was yet ver... | she was convinced) to draw her from the rest to himself--and at first, he had talked to her in a more particular way than he had ever done before, in a very particular way indeed!--(Harriet could not recall it without a blush.) He seemed to be almost asking her, whether her affections were engaged.--But as soon as she ... | Emma |
"I never should have presumed to think of it at first," | Harriet Smith | not good ground for hope.<|quote|>"I never should have presumed to think of it at first,"</|quote|>said she, "but for you. | to say whether she had not good ground for hope.<|quote|>"I never should have presumed to think of it at first,"</|quote|>said she, "but for you. You told me to observe | No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it." When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope.<|quote|>"I never should have presumed to think of it at first,... | did, after a little reflection, venture the following question. "Might he not?--Is not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin's interest in view?" But Harriet rejected the suspicion with spirit. "Mr. Martin! No in... | an hour before Emma came back from her visit, the very last morning of his being at Hartfield--though, when he first came in, he had said that he could not stay five minutes--and his having told her, during their conversation, that though he must go to London, it was very much against his inclination that he left home ... | of the notice she had received from him, a look, a speech, a removal from one chair to another, a compliment implied, a preference inferred, had been unnoticed, because unsuspected, by Emma. Circumstances that might swell to half an hour's relation, and contained multiplied proofs to her who had seen them, had passed u... | story of Jane Fairfax, that was quite sunk and lost.--Neither of them thought but of Mr. Knightley and themselves. Harriet, who had been standing in no unhappy reverie, was yet very glad to be called from it, by the now encouraging manner of such a judge, and such a friend as Miss Woodhouse, and only wanted invitation,... | be in the closest agreement with what she had known of his opinion of Harriet. He praised her for being without art or affectation, for having simple, honest, generous, feelings.--She knew that he saw such recommendations in Harriet; he had dwelt on them to her more than once.--Much that lived in Harriet's memory, many... | Emma |
said she, | No speaker | think of it at first,"<|quote|>said she,</|quote|>"but for you. You told | never should have presumed to think of it at first,"<|quote|>said she,</|quote|>"but for you. You told me to observe him carefully, | I know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it." When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope. "I never should have presumed to think of it at first,"<|quote|>said she,</|quote|>"but for you. You told me to obser... | not?--Is not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin's interest in view?" But Harriet rejected the suspicion with spirit. "Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I know better now, than ... | last morning of his being at Hartfield--though, when he first came in, he had said that he could not stay five minutes--and his having told her, during their conversation, that though he must go to London, it was very much against his inclination that he left home at all, which was much more (as Emma felt) than he had ... | speech, a removal from one chair to another, a compliment implied, a preference inferred, had been unnoticed, because unsuspected, by Emma. Circumstances that might swell to half an hour's relation, and contained multiplied proofs to her who had seen them, had passed undiscerned by her who now heard them; but the two l... | them thought but of Mr. Knightley and themselves. Harriet, who had been standing in no unhappy reverie, was yet very glad to be called from it, by the now encouraging manner of such a judge, and such a friend as Miss Woodhouse, and only wanted invitation, to give the history of her hopes with great, though trembling de... | from him--and Emma felt them to be in the closest agreement with what she had known of his opinion of Harriet. He praised her for being without art or affectation, for having simple, honest, generous, feelings.--She knew that he saw such recommendations in Harriet; he had dwelt on them to her more than once.--Much that... | Emma |
"but for you. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behaviour be the rule of mine--and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so very wonderful." | Harriet Smith | it at first," said she,<|quote|>"but for you. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behaviour be the rule of mine--and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so very wonderful."</|quote|>The bitter feelings occasioned by | have presumed to think of it at first," said she,<|quote|>"but for you. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behaviour be the rule of mine--and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so very wonderful."</|quote|>The bitter feelings o... | better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it." When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope. "I never should have presumed to think of it at first," said she,<|quote|>"but for you. You told me to observe him carefully... | it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin's interest in view?" But Harriet rejected the suspicion with spirit. "Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I know better now, than to care for M... | of his being at Hartfield--though, when he first came in, he had said that he could not stay five minutes--and his having told her, during their conversation, that though he must go to London, it was very much against his inclination that he left home at all, which was much more (as Emma felt) than he had acknowledged ... | removal from one chair to another, a compliment implied, a preference inferred, had been unnoticed, because unsuspected, by Emma. Circumstances that might swell to half an hour's relation, and contained multiplied proofs to her who had seen them, had passed undiscerned by her who now heard them; but the two latest occu... | but of Mr. Knightley and themselves. Harriet, who had been standing in no unhappy reverie, was yet very glad to be called from it, by the now encouraging manner of such a judge, and such a friend as Miss Woodhouse, and only wanted invitation, to give the history of her hopes with great, though trembling delight.--Emma'... | it without a blush.) He seemed to be almost asking her, whether her affections were engaged.--But as soon as she (Miss Woodhouse) appeared likely to join them, he changed the subject, and began talking about farming:--The second, was his having sat talking with her nearly half an hour before Emma came back from her vis... | Emma |
The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter feelings, made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma's side, to enable her to say on reply, | No speaker | any thing so very wonderful."<|quote|>The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter feelings, made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma's side, to enable her to say on reply,</|quote|>"Harriet, I will only venture | me, it will not be any thing so very wonderful."<|quote|>The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter feelings, made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma's side, to enable her to say on reply,</|quote|>"Harriet, I will only venture to declare, that Mr. Knightley | she, "but for you. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behaviour be the rule of mine--and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so very wonderful."<|quote|>The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter feelings, ma... | know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it." When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope. "I never should have presumed to think of it at first," said she, "but for you. You told me to observe him carefully, a... | much more (as Emma felt) than he had acknowledged to _her_. The superior degree of confidence towards Harriet, which this one article marked, gave her severe pain. On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after a little reflection, venture the following question. "Might he not?--Is not it possible... | two latest occurrences to be mentioned, the two of strongest promise to Harriet, were not without some degree of witness from Emma herself.--The first, was his walking with her apart from the others, in the lime-walk at Donwell, where they had been walking some time before Emma came, and he had taken pains (as she was ... | her hopes with great, though trembling delight.--Emma's tremblings as she asked, and as she listened, were better concealed than Harriet's, but they were not less. Her voice was not unsteady; but her mind was in all the perturbation that such a development of self, such a burst of threatening evil, such a confusion of ... | because unsuspected, by Emma. Circumstances that might swell to half an hour's relation, and contained multiplied proofs to her who had seen them, had passed undiscerned by her who now heard them; but the two latest occurrences to be mentioned, the two of strongest promise to Harriet, were not without some degree of wi... | Emma |
"Harriet, I will only venture to declare, that Mr. Knightley is the last man in the world, who would intentionally give any woman the idea of his feeling for her more than he really does." | Emma | her to say on reply,<|quote|>"Harriet, I will only venture to declare, that Mr. Knightley is the last man in the world, who would intentionally give any woman the idea of his feeling for her more than he really does."</|quote|>Harriet seemed ready to worship | on Emma's side, to enable her to say on reply,<|quote|>"Harriet, I will only venture to declare, that Mr. Knightley is the last man in the world, who would intentionally give any woman the idea of his feeling for her more than he really does."</|quote|>Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence | seem to feel that I may deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so very wonderful." The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter feelings, made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma's side, to enable her to say on reply,<|quote|>"Harriet, I will only venture to declare, tha... | Miss Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope. "I never should have presumed to think of it at first," said she, "but for you. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behaviour be the rule of mine--and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it... | pain. On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after a little reflection, venture the following question. "Might he not?--Is not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin's interest in view?" Bu... | walking with her apart from the others, in the lime-walk at Donwell, where they had been walking some time before Emma came, and he had taken pains (as she was convinced) to draw her from the rest to himself--and at first, he had talked to her in a more particular way than he had ever done before, in a very particular ... | voice was not unsteady; but her mind was in all the perturbation that such a development of self, such a burst of threatening evil, such a confusion of sudden and perplexing emotions, must create.--She listened with much inward suffering, but with great outward patience, to Harriet's detail.--Methodical, or well arrang... | time before Emma came, and he had taken pains (as she was convinced) to draw her from the rest to himself--and at first, he had talked to her in a more particular way than he had ever done before, in a very particular way indeed!--(Harriet could not recall it without a blush.) He seemed to be almost asking her, whether... | Emma |
Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence so satisfactory; and Emma was only saved from raptures and fondness, which at that moment would have been dreadful penance, by the sound of her father's footsteps. He was coming through the hall. Harriet was too much agitated to encounter him. "She could not com... | No speaker | more than he really does."<|quote|>Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence so satisfactory; and Emma was only saved from raptures and fondness, which at that moment would have been dreadful penance, by the sound of her father's footsteps. He was coming through the hall. Harriet was too much agitated t... | of his feeling for her more than he really does."<|quote|>Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence so satisfactory; and Emma was only saved from raptures and fondness, which at that moment would have been dreadful penance, by the sound of her father's footsteps. He was coming through the hall. Harriet ... | made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma's side, to enable her to say on reply, "Harriet, I will only venture to declare, that Mr. Knightley is the last man in the world, who would intentionally give any woman the idea of his feeling for her more than he really does."<|quote|>Harriet seemed ready to worship her frien... | and let his behaviour be the rule of mine--and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so very wonderful." The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter feelings, made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma's side, to enable her to... | state of your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin's interest in view?" But Harriet rejected the suspicion with spirit. "Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it." When Harriet had clos... | the rest to himself--and at first, he had talked to her in a more particular way than he had ever done before, in a very particular way indeed!--(Harriet could not recall it without a blush.) He seemed to be almost asking her, whether her affections were engaged.--But as soon as she (Miss Woodhouse) appeared likely to ... | with much inward suffering, but with great outward patience, to Harriet's detail.--Methodical, or well arranged, or very well delivered, it could not be expected to be; but it contained, when separated from all the feebleness and tautology of the narration, a substance to sink her spirit--especially with the corroborat... | were engaged.--But as soon as she (Miss Woodhouse) appeared likely to join them, he changed the subject, and began talking about farming:--The second, was his having sat talking with her nearly half an hour before Emma came back from her visit, the very last morning of his being at Hartfield--though, when he first came... | Emma |
"Oh God! that I had never seen her!" | Emma | spontaneous burst of Emma's feelings:<|quote|>"Oh God! that I had never seen her!"</|quote|>The rest of the day, | was gone, this was the spontaneous burst of Emma's feelings:<|quote|>"Oh God! that I had never seen her!"</|quote|>The rest of the day, the following night, were hardly | through the hall. Harriet was too much agitated to encounter him. "She could not compose herself-- Mr. Woodhouse would be alarmed--she had better go;"--with most ready encouragement from her friend, therefore, she passed off through another door--and the moment she was gone, this was the spontaneous burst of Emma's fee... | of his feeling for her more than he really does." Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence so satisfactory; and Emma was only saved from raptures and fondness, which at that moment would have been dreadful penance, by the sound of her father's footsteps. He was coming through the hall. Harriet was too ... | "but for you. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behaviour be the rule of mine--and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so very wonderful." The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter feelings, made the utmost... | of his being at Hartfield--though, when he first came in, he had said that he could not stay five minutes--and his having told her, during their conversation, that though he must go to London, it was very much against his inclination that he left home at all, which was much more (as Emma felt) than he had acknowledged ... | much superior to his expectation. From that evening, or at least from the time of Miss Woodhouse's encouraging her to think of him, Harriet had begun to be sensible of his talking to her much more than he had been used to do, and of his having indeed quite a different manner towards her; a manner of kindness and sweetn... | confidence towards Harriet, which this one article marked, gave her severe pain. On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after a little reflection, venture the following question. "Might he not?--Is not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of your affections, he might ... | Emma |
The rest of the day, the following night, were hardly enough for her thoughts.--She was bewildered amidst the confusion of all that had rushed on her within the last few hours. Every moment had brought a fresh surprize; and every surprize must be matter of humiliation to her.--How to understand it all! How to understan... | No speaker | I had never seen her!"<|quote|>The rest of the day, the following night, were hardly enough for her thoughts.--She was bewildered amidst the confusion of all that had rushed on her within the last few hours. Every moment had brought a fresh surprize; and every surprize must be matter of humiliation to her.--How to unde... | Emma's feelings: "Oh God! that I had never seen her!"<|quote|>The rest of the day, the following night, were hardly enough for her thoughts.--She was bewildered amidst the confusion of all that had rushed on her within the last few hours. Every moment had brought a fresh surprize; and every surprize must be matter of h... | to encounter him. "She could not compose herself-- Mr. Woodhouse would be alarmed--she had better go;"--with most ready encouragement from her friend, therefore, she passed off through another door--and the moment she was gone, this was the spontaneous burst of Emma's feelings: "Oh God! that I had never seen her!"<|quo... | really does." Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence so satisfactory; and Emma was only saved from raptures and fondness, which at that moment would have been dreadful penance, by the sound of her father's footsteps. He was coming through the hall. Harriet was too much agitated to encounter him. "She... | him carefully, and let his behaviour be the rule of mine--and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so very wonderful." The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter feelings, made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma's side, t... | came in, he had said that he could not stay five minutes--and his having told her, during their conversation, that though he must go to London, it was very much against his inclination that he left home at all, which was much more (as Emma felt) than he had acknowledged to _her_. The superior degree of confidence towar... | or at least from the time of Miss Woodhouse's encouraging her to think of him, Harriet had begun to be sensible of his talking to her much more than he had been used to do, and of his having indeed quite a different manner towards her; a manner of kindness and sweetness!--Latterly she had been more and more aware of it... | than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it." When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope. "I never should have presumed to think of it at first," said she, "but for you. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behavi... | Emma |
"On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," | Mrs. Weston | had said on the subject.<|quote|>"On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months,"</|quote|>continued Mrs. Weston, "she was | pleased with all that she had said on the subject.<|quote|>"On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months,"</|quote|>continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of | and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief to her companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject.<|quote|>"On the misery of what she had suffered, dur... | the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the... | almost an affecting, scene. They were both so truly respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in every sensation; thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss Fairfax's recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to i... | deal of agitation herself; and in the first place had wished not to go at all at present, to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead, and to defer this ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and Mr. Churchill could be reconciled to the engagement's becoming known; as, considering every thing, she th... | if she were asked by Mr. Knightley. It must be her ardent wish that Harriet might be disappointed; and she hoped, that when able to see them together again, she might at least be able to ascertain what the chances for it were.--She should see them henceforward with the closest observance; and wretchedly as she had hith... | her in an airing, was now returned with much more to say, and much more to say with satisfaction, than a quarter of an hour spent in Mrs. Bates's parlour, with all the encumbrance of awkward feelings, could have afforded. A little curiosity Emma had; and she made the most of it while her friend related. Mrs. Weston had... | Emma |
continued Mrs. Weston, | No speaker | concealment of so many months,"<|quote|>continued Mrs. Weston,</|quote|>"she was energetic. This was | she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months,"<|quote|>continued Mrs. Weston,</|quote|>"she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I | must be the greatest relief to her companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months,"<|quote|>continued Mrs. Weston,</|quote|>"she was energetic. ... | warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was convinced that such conversation must be the greatest r... | in every sensation; thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss Fairfax's recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; ... | all at present, to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead, and to defer this ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and Mr. Churchill could be reconciled to the engagement's becoming known; as, considering every thing, she thought such a visit could not be paid without leading to reports:--but Mr. ... | might be disappointed; and she hoped, that when able to see them together again, she might at least be able to ascertain what the chances for it were.--She should see them henceforward with the closest observance; and wretchedly as she had hitherto misunderstood even those she was watching, she did not know how to admi... | it were, that it would be of any consequence; for "such things," he observed, "always got about." Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had hardly been able to speak a word, and every... | Emma |
"she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." | Mrs. Weston | many months," continued Mrs. Weston,<|quote|>"she was energetic. This was one of her expressions."</|quote|>'I will not say, that | during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston,<|quote|>"she was energetic. This was one of her expressions."</|quote|>'I will not say, that since I entered into the | greatest relief to her companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston,<|quote|>"she was energetic. This was one of her e... | the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief to her companion,... | thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss Fairfax's recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course o... | to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead, and to defer this ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and Mr. Churchill could be reconciled to the engagement's becoming known; as, considering every thing, she thought such a visit could not be paid without leading to reports:--but Mr. Weston had thoug... | and she hoped, that when able to see them together again, she might at least be able to ascertain what the chances for it were.--She should see them henceforward with the closest observance; and wretchedly as she had hitherto misunderstood even those she was watching, she did not know how to admit that she could be bli... | awkward feelings, could have afforded. A little curiosity Emma had; and she made the most of it while her friend related. Mrs. Weston had set off to pay the visit in a good deal of agitation herself; and in the first place had wished not to go at all at present, to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead, an... | Emma |
'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' | No speaker | was one of her expressions."<|quote|>'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:'</|quote|>"--and the quivering lip, Emma, | Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions."<|quote|>'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:'</|quote|>"--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an | own mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions."<|quote|>'I will not say, that since I entered in... | Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief to her companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long b... | body, and so little of themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss Fairfax's recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle ... | instead, and to defer this ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and Mr. Churchill could be reconciled to the engagement's becoming known; as, considering every thing, she thought such a visit could not be paid without leading to reports:--but Mr. Weston had thought differently; he was extremely anxious to sh... | together again, she might at least be able to ascertain what the chances for it were.--She should see them henceforward with the closest observance; and wretchedly as she had hitherto misunderstood even those she was watching, she did not know how to admit that she could be blinded here.--He was expected back every day... | daughter--who proved even too joyous to talk as usual, had been a gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene. They were both so truly respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in every sensation; thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work fo... | Emma |
"--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart." | Mrs. Weston | blessing of one tranquil hour:'<|quote|>"--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart."</|quote|>"Poor girl!" said Emma. "She | I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:'<|quote|>"--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart."</|quote|>"Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for | concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:'<|quote|>"--and the quivering lip, Emma, whi... | was convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief to her companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, ... | she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, ... | could not be paid without leading to reports:--but Mr. Weston had thought differently; he was extremely anxious to shew his approbation to Miss Fairfax and her family, and did not conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it; or if it were, that it would be of any consequence; for "such things," he observed, "alw... | she was watching, she did not know how to admit that she could be blinded here.--He was expected back every day. The power of observation would be soon given--frightfully soon it appeared when her thoughts were in one course. In the meanwhile, she resolved against seeing Harriet.--It would do neither of them good, it w... | saying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn how deeply she was suffering from consciousness. The quiet, heart-felt satisfaction of the old lady, and the rapturous delight of her ... | Emma |
"Poor girl!" | Emma | I felt at my heart."<|quote|>"Poor girl!"</|quote|>said Emma. "She thinks herself | it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart."<|quote|>"Poor girl!"</|quote|>said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented | 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart."<|quote|>"Poor girl!"</|quote|>said Emma. "She thinks hers... | own mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the e... | course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and M... | to shew his approbation to Miss Fairfax and her family, and did not conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it; or if it were, that it would be of any consequence; for "such things," he observed, "always got about." Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in shor... | expected back every day. The power of observation would be soon given--frightfully soon it appeared when her thoughts were in one course. In the meanwhile, she resolved against seeing Harriet.--It would do neither of them good, it would do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther.--She was resolved not to be co... | relate all the particulars of so interesting an interview. Mr. Weston had accompanied her to Mrs. Bates's, and gone through his share of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having then induced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned with much more to say, and much more to say with satisfac... | Emma |
said Emma. | No speaker | at my heart." "Poor girl!"<|quote|>said Emma.</|quote|>"She thinks herself wrong, then, | an attestation that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!"<|quote|>said Emma.</|quote|>"She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a | not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!"<|quote|>said Emma.</|quote|>"She thinks herself wron... | as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement... | their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston,... | his approbation to Miss Fairfax and her family, and did not conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it; or if it were, that it would be of any consequence; for "such things," he observed, "always got about." Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and v... | every day. The power of observation would be soon given--frightfully soon it appeared when her thoughts were in one course. In the meanwhile, she resolved against seeing Harriet.--It would do neither of them good, it would do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther.--She was resolved not to be convinced, as lo... | how deeply she was suffering from consciousness. The quiet, heart-felt satisfaction of the old lady, and the rapturous delight of her daughter--who proved even too joyous to talk as usual, had been a gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene. They were both so truly respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in ... | Emma |
"She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?" | Emma | heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma.<|quote|>"She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?"</|quote|>"Wrong! No one, I believe, | that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma.<|quote|>"She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?"</|quote|>"Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than | that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma.<|quote|>"She thinks herself wrong, then, for havin... | thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have n... | Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessa... | to Miss Fairfax and her family, and did not conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it; or if it were, that it would be of any consequence; for "such things," he observed, "always got about." Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had be... | The power of observation would be soon given--frightfully soon it appeared when her thoughts were in one course. In the meanwhile, she resolved against seeing Harriet.--It would do neither of them good, it would do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther.--She was resolved not to be convinced, as long as she c... | she thought such a visit could not be paid without leading to reports:--but Mr. Weston had thought differently; he was extremely anxious to shew his approbation to Miss Fairfax and her family, and did not conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it; or if it were, that it would be of any consequence; for "such t... | Emma |
"Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." | Mrs. Weston | consented to a private engagement?"<|quote|>"Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself."</|quote|>'The consequence,' "said she," 'has | herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?"<|quote|>"Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself."</|quote|>'The consequence,' "said she," 'has been a state of perpetual | happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?"<|quote|>"Wrong! No one, I belie... | that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never... | as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good... | suspicion could be excited by it; or if it were, that it would be of any consequence; for "such things," he observed, "always got about." Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had har... | her thoughts were in one course. In the meanwhile, she resolved against seeing Harriet.--It would do neither of them good, it would do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther.--She was resolved not to be convinced, as long as she could doubt, and yet had no authority for opposing Harriet's confidence. To talk ... | and her family, and did not conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it; or if it were, that it would be of any consequence; for "such things," he observed, "always got about." Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had been the evident d... | Emma |
'The consequence,' | No speaker | is disposed to blame herself."<|quote|>'The consequence,'</|quote|>"said she," 'has been a | blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself."<|quote|>'The consequence,'</|quote|>"said she," 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to | hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself."<|quote|>'The consequence,'</... | the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which u... | in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was convinced that such c... | consequence; for "such things," he observed, "always got about." Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn how de... | neither of them good, it would do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther.--She was resolved not to be convinced, as long as she could doubt, and yet had no authority for opposing Harriet's confidence. To talk would be only to irritate.--She wrote to her, therefore, kindly, but decisively, to beg that she woul... | in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was convinced that such c... | Emma |
"said she," | Mrs. Weston | to blame herself." 'The consequence,'<|quote|>"said she,"</|quote|>'has been a state of | more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,'<|quote|>"said she,"</|quote|>'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and | the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,'<|quote|>"said she,"</|q... | of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was a... | first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was convinced that such conversati... | "such things," he observed, "always got about." Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn how deeply she was suff... | them good, it would do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther.--She was resolved not to be convinced, as long as she could doubt, and yet had no authority for opposing Harriet's confidence. To talk would be only to irritate.--She wrote to her, therefore, kindly, but decisively, to beg that she would not, at p... | sensation; thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss Fairfax's recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in t... | Emma |
'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindn... | No speaker | herself." 'The consequence,' "said she,"<|quote|>'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortuna... | she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she,"<|quote|>'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense ... | lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she,"<|quote|>'has been a state... | many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an atte... | and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was convinced that such conversation must be the gr... | he observed, "always got about." Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn how deeply she was suffering from cons... | it would do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther.--She was resolved not to be convinced, as long as she could doubt, and yet had no authority for opposing Harriet's confidence. To talk would be only to irritate.--She wrote to her, therefore, kindly, but decisively, to beg that she would not, at present, com... | happiness, so disinterested in every sensation; thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss Fairfax's recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on... | Emma |
"she continued," | Mrs. Weston | be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,'<|quote|>"she continued,"</|quote|>'that I was taught wrong. | tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,'<|quote|>"she continued,"</|quote|>'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection | Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,'<|quote|>"she continued,"</|quote|>'that I was taught wro... | private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she," 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I neve... | with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I h... | to talk as usual, had been a gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene. They were both so truly respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in every sensation; thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss Fairfax's recent illness... | hoping, that if a few days were allowed to pass before they met again, except in the company of others--she objected only to a tete-a-tete--they might be able to act as if they had forgotten the conversation of yesterday.--Harriet submitted, and approved, and was grateful. This point was just arranged, when a visitor a... | her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their... | Emma |
'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" | No speaker | not imagine, madam,' "she continued,"<|quote|>'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the ... | ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued,"<|quote|>'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall... | no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued,"<|quote|>'that I was taught wrong. Do not let an... | "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she," 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I... | that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never... | as usual, had been a gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene. They were both so truly respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in every sensation; thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss Fairfax's recent illness had off... | if a few days were allowed to pass before they met again, except in the company of others--she objected only to a tete-a-tete--they might be able to act as if they had forgotten the conversation of yesterday.--Harriet submitted, and approved, and was grateful. This point was just arranged, when a visitor arrived to tea... | was at work for them. Miss Fairfax's recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to b... | Emma |
"Poor girl!" | Emma | story known to Colonel Campbell.'"<|quote|>"Poor girl!"</|quote|>said Emma again. "She loves | shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'"<|quote|>"Poor girl!"</|quote|>said Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, I suppose. | reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'"<|quote|>"Poor girl!"</|quote|>said Emma again. "She ... | been acting contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued," 'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the ... | never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to bla... | Mrs. Weston to invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungra... | the one subject which had engrossed them, sleeping or waking, the last twenty-four hours--Mrs. Weston, who had been calling on her daughter-in-law elect, and took Hartfield in her way home, almost as much in duty to Emma as in pleasure to herself, to relate all the particulars of so interesting an interview. Mr. Weston... | Weston had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn how deeply she was suffering from consciousness. The quiet, heart-felt satisfaction of the old lady, a... | Emma |
said Emma again. | No speaker | to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!"<|quote|>said Emma again.</|quote|>"She loves him then excessively, | dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!"<|quote|>said Emma again.</|quote|>"She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have | on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!"<|quote|>said Emma again.</|quote|>"She loves him then e... | contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued," 'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who ... | the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself."... | to invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silenc... | subject which had engrossed them, sleeping or waking, the last twenty-four hours--Mrs. Weston, who had been calling on her daughter-in-law elect, and took Hartfield in her way home, almost as much in duty to Emma as in pleasure to herself, to relate all the particulars of so interesting an interview. Mr. Weston had acc... | converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the presen... | Emma |
"She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment." | Emma | "Poor girl!" said Emma again.<|quote|>"She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment."</|quote|>"Yes, I have no doubt | story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again.<|quote|>"She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment."</|quote|>"Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached | or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again.<|quote|>"She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It m... | my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued," 'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. T... | one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequenc... | to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their fir... | engrossed them, sleeping or waking, the last twenty-four hours--Mrs. Weston, who had been calling on her daughter-in-law elect, and took Hartfield in her way home, almost as much in duty to Emma as in pleasure to herself, to relate all the particulars of so interesting an interview. Mr. Weston had accompanied her to Mr... | back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, and the warmes... | Emma |
"Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him." | Mrs. Weston | must have overpowered her judgment."<|quote|>"Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him."</|quote|>"I am afraid," returned Emma, | form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment."<|quote|>"Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him."</|quote|>"I am afraid," returned Emma, sighing, "that I must often | may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment."<|quote|>"Yes, I have no d... | 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued," 'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the stor... | having consented to a private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she," 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain i... | overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusi... | to Emma as in pleasure to herself, to relate all the particulars of so interesting an interview. Mr. Weston had accompanied her to Mrs. Bates's, and gone through his share of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having then induced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned with much more to s... | I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she," 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all... | Emma |
"I am afraid," | Emma | being extremely attached to him."<|quote|>"I am afraid,"</|quote|>returned Emma, sighing, "that I | have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him."<|quote|>"I am afraid,"</|quote|>returned Emma, sighing, "that I must often have contributed to | to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment." "Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him."<|quote|>"I am afraid,"<... | not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves... | blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she," 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to a... | on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of ... | of so interesting an interview. Mr. Weston had accompanied her to Mrs. Bates's, and gone through his share of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having then induced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned with much more to say, and much more to say with satisfaction, than a quarter of an ... | having consented to a private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she," 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain i... | Emma |
returned Emma, sighing, | No speaker | to him." "I am afraid,"<|quote|>returned Emma, sighing,</|quote|>"that I must often have | of her being extremely attached to him." "I am afraid,"<|quote|>returned Emma, sighing,</|quote|>"that I must often have contributed to make her unhappy." | "Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment." "Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him." "I am afraid,"<|quote|>returned Emma, sighing,... | reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves him then ex... | than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she," 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense of ... | subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state ... | an interview. Mr. Weston had accompanied her to Mrs. Bates's, and gone through his share of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having then induced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned with much more to say, and much more to say with satisfaction, than a quarter of an hour spent in Mrs.... | long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some h... | Emma |
"that I must often have contributed to make her unhappy." | Emma | am afraid," returned Emma, sighing,<|quote|>"that I must often have contributed to make her unhappy."</|quote|>"On your side, my love, | extremely attached to him." "I am afraid," returned Emma, sighing,<|quote|>"that I must often have contributed to make her unhappy."</|quote|>"On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. | Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment." "Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him." "I am afraid," returned Emma, sighing,<|quote|>"that I must ofte... | the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, I suppos... | disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she," 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense of right; and t... | her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs.... | Weston had accompanied her to Mrs. Bates's, and gone through his share of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having then induced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned with much more to say, and much more to say with satisfaction, than a quarter of an hour spent in Mrs. Bates's parlour, ... | for Mrs. Weston to invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly u... | Emma |
"On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in," | Mrs. Weston | contributed to make her unhappy."<|quote|>"On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in,"</|quote|>she said, "was t... | "that I must often have contributed to make her unhappy."<|quote|>"On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in,"</... | must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment." "Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him." "I am afraid," returned Emma, sighing, "that I must often have contributed to make her unhappy."<|quote|>"On your side, my ... | me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she co... | a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am n... | warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was convinced that such conversation must be the greatest r... | his share of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having then induced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned with much more to say, and much more to say with satisfaction, than a quarter of an hour spent in Mrs. Bates's parlour, with all the encumbrance of awkward feelings, could have affo... | plea for Mrs. Weston to invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemin... | Emma |
she said, | No speaker | she had involved herself in,"<|quote|>she said,</|quote|>"was that of making her | natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in,"<|quote|>she said,</|quote|>"was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having | have contributed to make her unhappy." "On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in,"<|quote|>she said,</|quote|>"... | him then excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment." "Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him." "I am afraid," returned Emma, sighing, "that I must often have contributed to make her ... | of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued," 'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error ... | Weston was convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief to her companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. W... | Mrs. Bates's parlour, with all the encumbrance of awkward feelings, could have afforded. A little curiosity Emma had; and she made the most of it while her friend related. Mrs. Weston had set off to pay the visit in a good deal of agitation herself; and in the first place had wished not to go at all at present, to be a... | my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued," 'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. T... | Emma |
"was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear." | Mrs. Weston | involved herself in," she said,<|quote|>"was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear."</|quote|>'I did not make the | of the evil she had involved herself in," she said,<|quote|>"was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear."</|quote|>'I did not make the a... | to make her unhappy." "On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in," she said,<|quote|>"was that of making her _un... | excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment." "Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him." "I am afraid," returned Emma, sighing, "that I must often have contributed to make her unhappy."... | and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued," 'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been a... | convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief to her companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she... | parlour, with all the encumbrance of awkward feelings, could have afforded. A little curiosity Emma had; and she made the most of it while her friend related. Mrs. Weston had set off to pay the visit in a good deal of agitation herself; and in the first place had wished not to go at all at present, to be allowed merely... | on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of ... | Emma |
'I did not make the allowances,' | No speaker | been--hard for him to bear."<|quote|>'I did not make the allowances,'</|quote|>"said she," 'which I ought | that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear."<|quote|>'I did not make the allowances,'</|quote|>"said she," 'which I ought to have done, for his | natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in," she said, "was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear."<|quote|>'I did not... | "I am afraid," returned Emma, sighing, "that I must often have contributed to make her unhappy." "On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil ... | not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves... | subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of on... | good deal of agitation herself; and in the first place had wished not to go at all at present, to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead, and to defer this ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and Mr. Churchill could be reconciled to the engagement's becoming known; as, considering every thing, s... | still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued," 'that I was ... | Emma |
"said she," | Mrs. Weston | did not make the allowances,'<|quote|>"said she,"</|quote|>'which I ought to have | for him to bear." 'I did not make the allowances,'<|quote|>"said she,"</|quote|>'which I ought to have done, for his temper and | had involved herself in," she said, "was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear." 'I did not make the allowances,'<|quote|>"said she,"</... | "that I must often have contributed to make her unhappy." "On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in," she said,... | the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, I suppos... | she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the qui... | in the first place had wished not to go at all at present, to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead, and to defer this ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and Mr. Churchill could be reconciled to the engagement's becoming known; as, considering every thing, she thought such a visit could not be... | No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she," 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have be... | Emma |
'which I ought to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.' | No speaker | make the allowances,' "said she,"<|quote|>'which I ought to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.'</|quote|>"She then began ... | to bear." 'I did not make the allowances,' "said she,"<|quote|>'which I ought to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.'</|qu... | herself in," she said, "was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear." 'I did not make the allowances,' "said she,"<|quote|>'which I ought... | must often have contributed to make her unhappy." "On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in," she said, "was th... | or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have... | suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering l... | first place had wished not to go at all at present, to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead, and to defer this ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and Mr. Churchill could be reconciled to the engagement's becoming known; as, considering every thing, she thought such a visit could not be paid w... | and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience te... | Emma |
"She then began to speak of you, and of the great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had an opportunity, to thank you--I could not thank you too much--for every wish and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that yo... | Mrs. Weston | as they were at first.'<|quote|>"She then began to speak of you, and of the great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had an opportunity, to thank you--I could not thank you too much--for every wish and every endeavour to do he... | as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.'<|quote|>"She then began to speak of you, and of the great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had an opportunity, to thank you--I could not thank you too much--for every w... | bear." 'I did not make the allowances,' "said she," 'which I ought to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.'<|quote|>"She th... | One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in," she said, "was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear." 'I did not mak... | known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment." "Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him." "I am afraid," re... | say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she i... | engagement's becoming known; as, considering every thing, she thought such a visit could not be paid without leading to reports:--but Mr. Weston had thought differently; he was extremely anxious to shew his approbation to Miss Fairfax and her family, and did not conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it; or if... | heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she," 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishme... | Emma |
"If I did not know her to be happy now," | Emma | any proper acknowledgment from herself."<|quote|>"If I did not know her to be happy now,"</|quote|>said Emma, seriously, "which, in | that you had never received any proper acknowledgment from herself."<|quote|>"If I did not know her to be happy now,"</|quote|>said Emma, seriously, "which, in spite of every little drawback | and with a blush which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had an opportunity, to thank you--I could not thank you too much--for every wish and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had never received any proper acknowledgment from herself."<|quote|>"If I did not know her to b... | spirits--his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.' "She then began to speak of you, and of the great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush w... | side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in," she said, "was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of havin... | of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now recei... | about." Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn how deeply she was suffering from consciousness. The quiet, hea... | must be the greatest relief to her companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of h... | Emma |
said Emma, seriously, | No speaker | her to be happy now,"<|quote|>said Emma, seriously,</|quote|>"which, in spite of every | "If I did not know her to be happy now,"<|quote|>said Emma, seriously,</|quote|>"which, in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous | all connected, desired me, whenever I had an opportunity, to thank you--I could not thank you too much--for every wish and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had never received any proper acknowledgment from herself." "If I did not know her to be happy now,"<|quote|>said Emma, seriously,</|quote|... | which, under any other circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.' "She then began to speak of you, and of the great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had an opportunity,... | probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in," she said, "was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietu... | after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to b... | good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn how deeply she was suffering from consciousness. The quiet, heart-felt satisfaction of the old lady, and the rapturous... | that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consen... | Emma |
"which, in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she must be, I could not bear these thanks;--for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss Fairfax!--Well" | Emma | happy now," said Emma, seriously,<|quote|>"which, in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she must be, I could not bear these thanks;--for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss Fairfax!--Well"</|quote|>(checking herself, and trying to | not know her to be happy now," said Emma, seriously,<|quote|>"which, in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she must be, I could not bear these thanks;--for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss Fairfax!--Well"</|quote|>(checking herself... | me, whenever I had an opportunity, to thank you--I could not thank you too much--for every wish and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had never received any proper acknowledgment from herself." "If I did not know her to be happy now," said Emma, seriously,<|quote|>"which, in spite of every littl... | other circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.' "She then began to speak of you, and of the great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had an opportunity, to thank you--I ... | of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in," she said, "was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her capti... | punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not im... | saying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn how deeply she was suffering from consciousness. The quiet, heart-felt satisfaction of the old lady, and the rapturous delight of her ... | doubt of her being extremely attached to him." "I am afraid," returned Emma, sighing, "that I must often have contributed to make her unhappy." "On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints ... | Emma |
(checking herself, and trying to be more lively) | No speaker | I have done Miss Fairfax!--Well"<|quote|>(checking herself, and trying to be more lively)</|quote|>", this is all to | the evil and the good I have done Miss Fairfax!--Well"<|quote|>(checking herself, and trying to be more lively)</|quote|>", this is all to be forgotten. You are very | know her to be happy now," said Emma, seriously, "which, in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she must be, I could not bear these thanks;--for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss Fairfax!--Well"<|quote|>(checking herself, and trying ... | which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had an opportunity, to thank you--I could not thank you too much--for every wish and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had never received any proper acknowledgment from herself." "If I did not know her to be happy now," said Emma, ... | done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear." 'I did not make the allowances,' "said she," 'which I ought to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulnes... | the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued," 'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excus... | consciousness. The quiet, heart-felt satisfaction of the old lady, and the rapturous delight of her daughter--who proved even too joyous to talk as usual, had been a gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene. They were both so truly respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in every sensation; thought so much o... | of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' "--and... | Emma |
", this is all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these interesting particulars. They shew her to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is very good--I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers." | Emma | trying to be more lively)<|quote|>", this is all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these interesting particulars. They shew her to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is very good--I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers."... | Miss Fairfax!--Well" (checking herself, and trying to be more lively)<|quote|>", this is all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these interesting particulars. They shew her to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is very good--I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune should be on his side,... | seriously, "which, in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she must be, I could not bear these thanks;--for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss Fairfax!--Well" (checking herself, and trying to be more lively)<|quote|>", this is all to b... | desired me, whenever I had an opportunity, to thank you--I could not thank you too much--for every wish and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had never received any proper acknowledgment from herself." "If I did not know her to be happy now," said Emma, seriously, "which, in spite of every littl... | inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear." 'I did not make the allowances,' "said she," 'which I ought to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other c... | my conscience tells me ought not to be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued," 'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear t... | lady, and the rapturous delight of her daughter--who proved even too joyous to talk as usual, had been a gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene. They were both so truly respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in every sensation; thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of themselves, t... | led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment." "Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him." "I am afraid," returned Emma, sighing, "that I must often have contributed to make her unhappy." "On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had somethi... | Emma |
Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. She thought well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more, she loved him very much, and her defence was, therefore, earnest. She talked with a great deal of reason, and at least equal affection--but she had too much to urge for Emma's attention; it... | No speaker | will be all on hers."<|quote|>Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. She thought well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more, she loved him very much, and her defence was, therefore, earnest. She talked with a great deal of reason, and at least equal affection--but she had too much to... | for I think the merit will be all on hers."<|quote|>Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. She thought well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more, she loved him very much, and her defence was, therefore, earnest. She talked with a great deal of reason, and at least equal affection--b... | are very kind to bring me these interesting particulars. They shew her to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is very good--I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers."<|quote|>Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. S... | from her scrupulous conscience, she must be, I could not bear these thanks;--for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss Fairfax!--Well" (checking herself, and trying to be more lively) ", this is all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these interesting ... | been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.' "She then began to speak of you, and of the great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had an opportunity, to thank you--I could not thank you too much--for every wish... | may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'" "Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, I suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her judgment." "Yes, I have no doubt of ... | was at work for them. Miss Fairfax's recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to b... | felt at my heart." "Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a private engagement?" "Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself." 'The consequence,' "said she," 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all t... | Emma |
"We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you know, but I hope it will soon come," | Mrs. Weston | when Mrs. Weston ended with,<|quote|>"We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you know, but I hope it will soon come,"</|quote|>she was obliged to pause | to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Weston ended with,<|quote|>"We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you know, but I hope it will soon come,"</|quote|>she was obliged to pause before she answered, and at | and her defence was, therefore, earnest. She talked with a great deal of reason, and at least equal affection--but she had too much to urge for Emma's attention; it was soon gone to Brunswick Square or to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Weston ended with,<|quote|>"We have not yet had the letter ... | happy. It is fit that the fortune should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers." Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. She thought well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more, she loved him very much, and her defence was, therefore, earnest. She talked with a grea... | from herself." "If I did not know her to be happy now," said Emma, seriously, "which, in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she must be, I could not bear these thanks;--for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss Fairfax!--Well" (checking... | "On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in," she said, "was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness... | warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was convinced that such conversation must be the greatest r... | too much--for every wish and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had never received any proper acknowledgment from herself." "If I did not know her to be happy now," said Emma, seriously, "which, in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she must be, I could not bear these ... | Emma |
she was obliged to pause before she answered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could at all recollect what letter it was which they were so anxious for. | No speaker | hope it will soon come,"<|quote|>she was obliged to pause before she answered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could at all recollect what letter it was which they were so anxious for.</|quote|>"Are you well, my Emma?" | for, you know, but I hope it will soon come,"<|quote|>she was obliged to pause before she answered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could at all recollect what letter it was which they were so anxious for.</|quote|>"Are you well, my Emma?" was Mrs. Weston's parting question. | too much to urge for Emma's attention; it was soon gone to Brunswick Square or to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Weston ended with, "We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you know, but I hope it will soon come,"<|quote|>she was obliged to pause before she answered, and at last o... | hers." Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. She thought well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more, she loved him very much, and her defence was, therefore, earnest. She talked with a great deal of reason, and at least equal affection--but she had too much to urge for Emma's attent... | drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she must be, I could not bear these thanks;--for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss Fairfax!--Well" (checking herself, and trying to be more lively) ", this is all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these int... | alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in," she said, "was that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree ... | these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief to her companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had s... | often have contributed to make her unhappy." "On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in," she said, "was that of... | Emma |
"Are you well, my Emma?" | Mrs. Weston | they were so anxious for.<|quote|>"Are you well, my Emma?"</|quote|>was Mrs. Weston's parting question. | what letter it was which they were so anxious for.<|quote|>"Are you well, my Emma?"</|quote|>was Mrs. Weston's parting question. "Oh! perfectly. I am always | yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you know, but I hope it will soon come," she was obliged to pause before she answered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could at all recollect what letter it was which they were so anxious for.<|quote|>"Are you well, my Emma?"</|quote|>was Mrs. Weston's parti... | was, therefore, earnest. She talked with a great deal of reason, and at least equal affection--but she had too much to urge for Emma's attention; it was soon gone to Brunswick Square or to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Weston ended with, "We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, y... | done Miss Fairfax!--Well" (checking herself, and trying to be more lively) ", this is all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these interesting particulars. They shew her to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is very good--I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune should be on his side, fo... | consciousness of having done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear." 'I did not make the allowances,' "said she," 'which I ought to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and that... | greatest relief to her companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressio... | other circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.' "She then began to speak of you, and of the great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had an opportunity, to thank you--I ... | Emma |
was Mrs. Weston's parting question. | No speaker | "Are you well, my Emma?"<|quote|>was Mrs. Weston's parting question.</|quote|>"Oh! perfectly. I am always | they were so anxious for. "Are you well, my Emma?"<|quote|>was Mrs. Weston's parting question.</|quote|>"Oh! perfectly. I am always well, you know. Be sure | are so anxious for, you know, but I hope it will soon come," she was obliged to pause before she answered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could at all recollect what letter it was which they were so anxious for. "Are you well, my Emma?"<|quote|>was Mrs. Weston's parting question.</|quote|>"Oh! perf... | with a great deal of reason, and at least equal affection--but she had too much to urge for Emma's attention; it was soon gone to Brunswick Square or to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Weston ended with, "We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you know, but I hope it will soon com... | and trying to be more lively) ", this is all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these interesting particulars. They shew her to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is very good--I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers." Suc... | had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear." 'I did not make the allowances,' "said she," 'which I ought to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulness of disposi... | pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I... | attached to him." "I am afraid," returned Emma, sighing, "that I must often have contributed to make her unhappy." "On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural conseq... | Emma |
"Oh! perfectly. I am always well, you know. Be sure to give me intelligence of the letter as soon as possible." | Emma | was Mrs. Weston's parting question.<|quote|>"Oh! perfectly. I am always well, you know. Be sure to give me intelligence of the letter as soon as possible."</|quote|>Mrs. Weston's communications furnished Emma | "Are you well, my Emma?" was Mrs. Weston's parting question.<|quote|>"Oh! perfectly. I am always well, you know. Be sure to give me intelligence of the letter as soon as possible."</|quote|>Mrs. Weston's communications furnished Emma with more food for unpleasant | know, but I hope it will soon come," she was obliged to pause before she answered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could at all recollect what letter it was which they were so anxious for. "Are you well, my Emma?" was Mrs. Weston's parting question.<|quote|>"Oh! perfectly. I am always well, you know... | reason, and at least equal affection--but she had too much to urge for Emma's attention; it was soon gone to Brunswick Square or to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Weston ended with, "We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you know, but I hope it will soon come," she was obliged t... | lively) ", this is all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these interesting particulars. They shew her to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is very good--I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers." Such a conclusion could n... | thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear." 'I did not make the allowances,' "said she," 'which I ought to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under an... | mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engag... | be.' 'Do not imagine, madam,' "she continued," 'that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the... | Emma |
Mrs. Weston's communications furnished Emma with more food for unpleasant reflection, by increasing her esteem and compassion, and her sense of past injustice towards Miss Fairfax. She bitterly regretted not having sought a closer acquaintance with her, and blushed for the envious feelings which had certainly been, in ... | No speaker | letter as soon as possible."<|quote|>Mrs. Weston's communications furnished Emma with more food for unpleasant reflection, by increasing her esteem and compassion, and her sense of past injustice towards Miss Fairfax. She bitterly regretted not having sought a closer acquaintance with her, and blushed for the envious f... | give me intelligence of the letter as soon as possible."<|quote|>Mrs. Weston's communications furnished Emma with more food for unpleasant reflection, by increasing her esteem and compassion, and her sense of past injustice towards Miss Fairfax. She bitterly regretted not having sought a closer acquaintance with her, a... | answer at random, before she could at all recollect what letter it was which they were so anxious for. "Are you well, my Emma?" was Mrs. Weston's parting question. "Oh! perfectly. I am always well, you know. Be sure to give me intelligence of the letter as soon as possible."<|quote|>Mrs. Weston's communications furnish... | Square or to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Weston ended with, "We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you know, but I hope it will soon come," she was obliged to pause before she answered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could at all recollect what letter it ... | to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is very good--I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers." Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. She thought well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more, she loved... | 'I did not make the allowances,' "said she," 'which I ought to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.' "She then began to spe... | subject. "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so many months," continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one of her expressions." 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never known the blessing of on... | ought to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.' "She then began to speak of you, and of the great kindness you had shewn her... | Emma |
"You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." | Emma | considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began--<|quote|>"You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you."</|quote|>"Have I?" said he quietly, | it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began--<|quote|>"You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you."</|quote|>"Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of | attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began--<|quote|>"You have some ... | in which they had been received. They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragem... | minute they were together. The "How d'ye do's" were quiet and constrained on each side. She asked after their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had he left them?--Only that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was ... | regret when it were gone. CHAPTER XIII The weather continued much the same all the following morning; and the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer agai... | she had then drawn of the privations of the approaching winter, had proved erroneous; no friends had deserted them, no pleasures had been lost.--But her present forebodings she feared would experience no similar contradiction. The prospect before her now, was threatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled... | only source whence any thing like consolation or composure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own better conduct, and the hope that, however inferior in spirit and gaiety might be the following and every future winter of her life to the past, it would yet find her more rational, more acquainted with herself, ... | Emma |
"Have I?" | Mr. Knightley | that will rather surprize you."<|quote|>"Have I?"</|quote|>said he quietly, and looking | now you are come back, that will rather surprize you."<|quote|>"Have I?"</|quote|>said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" | equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you."<|quote|>"Have I?"</|quote|>said he quietl... | often looking at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject. He... | asked after their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had he left them?--Only that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke ch... | morning; and the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to be out of doors as ... | had deserted them, no pleasures had been lost.--But her present forebodings she feared would experience no similar contradiction. The prospect before her now, was threatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled--that might not be even partially brightened. If all took place that might take place among the ... | the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to be out of doors as soon as possi... | Emma |
said he quietly, and looking at her; | No speaker | rather surprize you." "Have I?"<|quote|>said he quietly, and looking at her;</|quote|>"of what nature?" "Oh! the | are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?"<|quote|>said he quietly, and looking at her;</|quote|>"of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a | lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?"<|quote|>said he quietly, and looking at ... | at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it al... | their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had he left them?--Only that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; an... | the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to be out of doors as soon as possi... | them, no pleasures had been lost.--But her present forebodings she feared would experience no similar contradiction. The prospect before her now, was threatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled--that might not be even partially brightened. If all took place that might take place among the circle of her... | he were to be lost to them for Harriet's sake; if he were to be thought of hereafter, as finding in Harriet's society all that he wanted; if Harriet were to be the chosen, the first, the dearest, the friend, the wife to whom he looked for all the best blessings of existence; what could be increasing Emma's wretchedness... | Emma |
"of what nature?" | Mr. Knightley | quietly, and looking at her;<|quote|>"of what nature?"</|quote|>"Oh! the best nature in | you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her;<|quote|>"of what nature?"</|quote|>"Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." After waiting | He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her;<|quote|>"of what nature?"</|quote|>"O... | view of her face than it suited her to give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bea... | had he left them?--Only that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by ... | seemed to reign at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to be out of doors as soon as possible. Never had the exquisite sight, smell, sen... | present forebodings she feared would experience no similar contradiction. The prospect before her now, was threatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled--that might not be even partially brightened. If all took place that might take place among the circle of her friends, Hartfield must be comparatively d... | her. She longed for the serenity they might gradually introduce; and on Mr. Perry's coming in soon after dinner, with a disengaged hour to give her father, she lost no time in hurrying into the shrubbery.--There, with spirits freshened, and thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, when she saw Mr. Knightl... | Emma |
"Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." | Emma | at her; "of what nature?"<|quote|>"Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding."</|quote|>After waiting a moment, as | said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?"<|quote|>"Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding."</|quote|>After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she | it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?"<|quote|>"Oh! the best nature i... | face than it suited her to give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silen... | them?--Only that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, w... | at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to be out of doors as soon as possible. Never had the exquisite sight, smell, sensation of nature... | feared would experience no similar contradiction. The prospect before her now, was threatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled--that might not be even partially brightened. If all took place that might take place among the circle of her friends, Hartfield must be comparatively deserted; and she left to... | to the past, it would yet find her more rational, more acquainted with herself, and leave her less to regret when it were gone. CHAPTER XIII The weather continued much the same all the following morning; and the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the... | Emma |
After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied, | No speaker | nature in the world--a wedding."<|quote|>After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied,</|quote|>"If you mean Miss Fairfax | what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding."<|quote|>After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied,</|quote|>"If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have | this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding."<|quote|>After waiting ... | this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. S... | wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating hi... | wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to be out of doors as soon as possible. Never had the exquisite sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and brilliant after a storm, been... | before her now, was threatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled--that might not be even partially brightened. If all took place that might take place among the circle of her friends, Hartfield must be comparatively deserted; and she left to cheer her father with the spirits only of ruined happiness. Th... | and thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, when she saw Mr. Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming towards her.--It was the first intimation of his being returned from London. She had been thinking of him the moment before, as unquestionably sixteen miles distant.--There was time only for... | Emma |
"If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." | Mr. Knightley | say no more, he replied,<|quote|>"If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already."</|quote|>"How is it possible?" cried | be sure she intended to say no more, he replied,<|quote|>"If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already."</|quote|>"How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks | news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied,<|quote|>"If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I ... | he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come ... | as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received. They walked tog... | again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to be out of doors as soon as possible. Never had the exquisite sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and brilliant after a storm, been more attractive to her. She longed for the serenity they might gradually introduce; and on Mr. P... | even partially brightened. If all took place that might take place among the circle of her friends, Hartfield must be comparatively deserted; and she left to cheer her father with the spirits only of ruined happiness. The child to be born at Randalls must be a tie there even dearer than herself; and Mrs. Weston's heart... | she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by th... | Emma |
"How is it possible?" | Emma | I have heard that already."<|quote|>"How is it possible?"</|quote|>cried Emma, turning her glowing | Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already."<|quote|>"How is it possible?"</|quote|>cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while | "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already."<|quote|>"How is it possible?"</|quote|>cried Emma, ... | equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at... | neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received. They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking at her, and trying f... | be out of doors as soon as possible. Never had the exquisite sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and brilliant after a storm, been more attractive to her. She longed for the serenity they might gradually introduce; and on Mr. Perry's coming in soon after dinner, with a disengaged hour to give her father,... | circle of her friends, Hartfield must be comparatively deserted; and she left to cheer her father with the spirits only of ruined happiness. The child to be born at Randalls must be a tie there even dearer than herself; and Mrs. Weston's heart and time would be occupied by it. They should lose her; and, probably, in gr... | all the following morning; and the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to b... | Emma |
cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. | No speaker | already." "How is it possible?"<|quote|>cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way.</|quote|>"I had a few lines | Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?"<|quote|>cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way.</|quote|>"I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. | quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?"<|quote|>cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks ... | way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nat... | cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received. They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking at her, and trying for a fuller view of her f... | as soon as possible. Never had the exquisite sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and brilliant after a storm, been more attractive to her. She longed for the serenity they might gradually introduce; and on Mr. Perry's coming in soon after dinner, with a disengaged hour to give her father, she lost no tim... | Hartfield must be comparatively deserted; and she left to cheer her father with the spirits only of ruined happiness. The child to be born at Randalls must be a tie there even dearer than herself; and Mrs. Weston's heart and time would be occupied by it. They should lose her; and, probably, in great measure, her husban... | her own work? When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not able to refrain from a start, or a heavy sigh, or even from walking about the room for a few seconds--and the only source whence any thing like consolation or composure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own better conduct, and the hope that, how... | Emma |
"I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened." | Mr. Knightley | Mrs. Goddard's in his way.<|quote|>"I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened."</|quote|>Emma was quite relieved, and | he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way.<|quote|>"I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened."</|quote|>Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a | to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way.<|quote|>"I had a few lines on parish business ... | to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfa... | by the manner in which they had been received. They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching ... | for the serenity they might gradually introduce; and on Mr. Perry's coming in soon after dinner, with a disengaged hour to give her father, she lost no time in hurrying into the shrubbery.--There, with spirits freshened, and thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, when she saw Mr. Knightley passing throu... | be a tie there even dearer than herself; and Mrs. Weston's heart and time would be occupied by it. They should lose her; and, probably, in great measure, her husband also.--Frank Churchill would return among them no more; and Miss Fairfax, it was reasonable to suppose, would soon cease to belong to Highbury. They would... | of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received. They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often l... | Emma |
Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure, | No speaker | account of what had happened."<|quote|>Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure,</|quote|>"_You_ probably have been less | he gave me a brief account of what had happened."<|quote|>Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure,</|quote|>"_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, | towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened."<|quote|>Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a litt... | what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occ... | of her face than it suited her to give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear thi... | hurrying into the shrubbery.--There, with spirits freshened, and thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, when she saw Mr. Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming towards her.--It was the first intimation of his being returned from London. She had been thinking of him the moment before, as u... | husband also.--Frank Churchill would return among them no more; and Miss Fairfax, it was reasonable to suppose, would soon cease to belong to Highbury. They would be married, and settled either at or near Enscombe. All that were good would be withdrawn; and if to these losses, the loss of Donwell were to be added, what... | in soon after dinner, with a disengaged hour to give her father, she lost no time in hurrying into the shrubbery.--There, with spirits freshened, and thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, when she saw Mr. Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming towards her.--It was the first intimation of... | Emma |
"_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" | Emma | with a little more composure,<|quote|>"_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--"</|quote|>(with a sinking voice and | relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure,<|quote|>"_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--"</|quote|>(with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I see... | have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure,<|quote|>"_You_ probably have been less surprized than any... | moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a... | another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolv... | had taken a few turns, when she saw Mr. Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming towards her.--It was the first intimation of his being returned from London. She had been thinking of him the moment before, as unquestionably sixteen miles distant.--There was time only for the quickest arrangement of mind. S... | was reasonable to suppose, would soon cease to belong to Highbury. They would be married, and settled either at or near Enscombe. All that were good would be withdrawn; and if to these losses, the loss of Donwell were to be added, what would remain of cheerful or of rational society within their reach? Mr. Knightley to... | wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating hi... | Emma |
(with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) | No speaker | I had attended to it--but--"<|quote|>(with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh)</|quote|>"I seem to have been | give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--"<|quote|>(with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh)</|quote|>"I seem to have been doomed to blindness." For a | what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure, "_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--"<|quote|>(with a sinking voic... | her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, ... | such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! ... | him the moment before, as unquestionably sixteen miles distant.--There was time only for the quickest arrangement of mind. She must be collected and calm. In half a minute they were together. The "How d'ye do's" were quiet and constrained on each side. She asked after their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had... | the loss of Donwell were to be added, what would remain of cheerful or of rational society within their reach? Mr. Knightley to be no longer coming there for his evening comfort!--No longer walking in at all hours, as if ever willing to change his own home for their's!--How was it to be endured? And if he were to be lo... | on each side. She asked after their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had he left them?--Only that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither l... | Emma |
"I seem to have been doomed to blindness." | Emma | voice and a heavy sigh)<|quote|>"I seem to have been doomed to blindness."</|quote|>For a moment or two | to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh)<|quote|>"I seem to have been doomed to blindness."</|quote|>For a moment or two nothing was said, and she | could presently say, with a little more composure, "_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh)<|quote|>"I seem to have been doomed t... | spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure, "_You_ probably h... | Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding."... | distant.--There was time only for the quickest arrangement of mind. She must be collected and calm. In half a minute they were together. The "How d'ye do's" were quiet and constrained on each side. She asked after their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had he left them?--Only that morning. He must have had a w... | what would remain of cheerful or of rational society within their reach? Mr. Knightley to be no longer coming there for his evening comfort!--No longer walking in at all hours, as if ever willing to change his own home for their's!--How was it to be endured? And if he were to be lost to them for Harriet's sake; if he w... | and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received. They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it ... | Emma |
For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, | No speaker | have been doomed to blindness."<|quote|>For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low,</|quote|>"Time, my dearest Em... | heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindness."<|quote|>For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low,</|quot... | "_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindness."<|quote|>For a moment or two nothing was said,... | have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure, "_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, ... | him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." After waiting a moment, as if to be sure ... | of mind. She must be collected and calm. In half a minute they were together. The "How d'ye do's" were quiet and constrained on each side. She asked after their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had he left them?--Only that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He h... | society within their reach? Mr. Knightley to be no longer coming there for his evening comfort!--No longer walking in at all hours, as if ever willing to change his own home for their's!--How was it to be endured? And if he were to be lost to them for Harriet's sake; if he were to be thought of hereafter, as finding in... | all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began-- "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world... | Emma |
"Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." | Mr. Knightley | of great sensibility, speaking low,<|quote|>"Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--."</|quote|>Her arm was pressed again, | thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low,<|quote|>"Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--."</|quote|>Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a | to have been doomed to blindness." For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low,<|quote|>"Time, my dearest Emma, ti... | say, with a little more composure, "_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindness." For a mome... | the world--a wedding." After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called... | have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been commu... | lost to them for Harriet's sake; if he were to be thought of hereafter, as finding in Harriet's society all that he wanted; if Harriet were to be the chosen, the first, the dearest, the friend, the wife to whom he looked for all the best blessings of existence; what could be increasing Emma's wretchedness but the refle... | possible. Never had the exquisite sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and brilliant after a storm, been more attractive to her. She longed for the serenity they might gradually introduce; and on Mr. Perry's coming in soon after dinner, with a disengaged hour to give her father, she lost no time in hurryi... | Emma |
Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, | No speaker | you will not allow yourself--."<|quote|>Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent,</|quote|>"The feelings of the warmest | for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--."<|quote|>Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent,</|quote|>"The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!" "--And in a | interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--."<|quote|>He... | not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindness." For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within hi... | Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of t... | not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received. They walked together. He ... | if Harriet were to be the chosen, the first, the dearest, the friend, the wife to whom he looked for all the best blessings of existence; what could be increasing Emma's wretchedness but the reflection never far distant from her mind, that it had been all her own work? When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not ... | were quiet and constrained on each side. She asked after their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had he left them?--Only that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors.... | Emma |
"The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!" | Mr. Knightley | more broken and subdued accent,<|quote|>"The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!"</|quote|>"--And in a louder, steadier | as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent,<|quote|>"The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!"</|quote|>"--And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He | heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent,<|quote|>"The feelin... | to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindness." For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great... | Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could p... | and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received. They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it ... | to whom he looked for all the best blessings of existence; what could be increasing Emma's wretchedness but the reflection never far distant from her mind, that it had been all her own work? When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not able to refrain from a start, or a heavy sigh, or even from walking about the r... | had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in whi... | Emma |
"--And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, | No speaker | of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!"<|quote|>"--And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with,</|quote|>"He will soon be gone. | and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!"<|quote|>"--And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with,</|quote|>"He will soon be gone. They will soon be in | of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation... | a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindness." For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my de... | for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure, "_... | suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received. They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to give. And this belief p... | best blessings of existence; what could be increasing Emma's wretchedness but the reflection never far distant from her mind, that it had been all her own work? When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not able to refrain from a start, or a heavy sigh, or even from walking about the room for a few seconds--and the... | side. She asked after their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had he left them?--Only that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked no... | Emma |
"He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate." | Mr. Knightley | steadier tone, he concluded with,<|quote|>"He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate."</|quote|>Emma understood him; and as | scoundrel!" "--And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with,<|quote|>"He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate."</|quote|>Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover | time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!" "--And in a louder, steadier tone, ... | to blindness." For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--You... | he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure, "_You_ probably have been less surprized than an... | been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received. They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak... | wretchedness but the reflection never far distant from her mind, that it had been all her own work? When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not able to refrain from a start, or a heavy sigh, or even from walking about the room for a few seconds--and the only source whence any thing like consolation or composure c... | no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston... | Emma |
Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from the flutter of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied, | No speaker | She deserves a better fate."<|quote|>Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from the flutter of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied,</|quote|>"You are very kind--but you | I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate."<|quote|>Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from the flutter of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied,</|quote|>"You are very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set | was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!" "--And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate."<|quote|>Emma u... | she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again... | this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure, "_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution... | together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel e... | to such a pitch as this, she was not able to refrain from a start, or a heavy sigh, or even from walking about the room for a few seconds--and the only source whence any thing like consolation or composure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own better conduct, and the hope that, however inferior in spirit and... | him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composur... | Emma |
"You are very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set you right.-- I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may well lay me open to unpleasant conje... | Emma | by such tender consideration, replied,<|quote|>"You are very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set you right.-- I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things... | the flutter of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied,<|quote|>"You are very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set you right.-- I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly ... | in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate." Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from the flutter of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied,<|quote|>"You are very kind--but you ... | great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--A... | relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure, "_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been do... | than it suited her to give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. W... | from walking about the room for a few seconds--and the only source whence any thing like consolation or composure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own better conduct, and the hope that, however inferior in spirit and gaiety might be the following and every future winter of her life to the past, it would yet... | garden door, and coming towards her.--It was the first intimation of his being returned from London. She had been thinking of him the moment before, as unquestionably sixteen miles distant.--There was time only for the quickest arrangement of mind. She must be collected and calm. In half a minute they were together. Th... | Emma |
"Emma!" | Mr. Knightley | not in the secret earlier."<|quote|>"Emma!"</|quote|>cried he, looking eagerly at | to regret that I was not in the secret earlier."<|quote|>"Emma!"</|quote|>cried he, looking eagerly at her, "are you, indeed?" "--but | act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason to regret that I was not in the secret earlier."<|quote|>"Emma!"</|quote|>cried he, looking eagerly at her, "are you, indeed?... | and as soon as she could recover from the flutter of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied, "You are very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set you right.-- I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed... | arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added,... | that will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible... | the same all the following morning; and the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma reso... | he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received. They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he ... | Emma |
cried he, looking eagerly at her, | No speaker | in the secret earlier." "Emma!"<|quote|>cried he, looking eagerly at her,</|quote|>"are you, indeed?" "--but checking | regret that I was not in the secret earlier." "Emma!"<|quote|>cried he, looking eagerly at her,</|quote|>"are you, indeed?" "--but checking himself--" "No, no, I understand | by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason to regret that I was not in the secret earlier." "Emma!"<|quote|>cried he, looking eagerly at her,</|quote|>"are you, indeed?" "-... | as soon as she could recover from the flutter of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied, "You are very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set you right.-- I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of,... | drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in ... | will rather surprize you." "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?" cr... | same all the following morning; and the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolved... | sure she intended to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish... | Emma |
"are you, indeed?" | Mr. Knightley | he, looking eagerly at her,<|quote|>"are you, indeed?"</|quote|>"--but checking himself--" "No, no, | the secret earlier." "Emma!" cried he, looking eagerly at her,<|quote|>"are you, indeed?"</|quote|>"--but checking himself--" "No, no, I understand you--forgive me--I am | I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason to regret that I was not in the secret earlier." "Emma!" cried he, looking eagerly at her,<|quote|>"are you, indeed?"</|quote|>"--but checking himself-... | from the flutter of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied, "You are very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set you right.-- I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tem... | his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The... | said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks ... | the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to be out of doors as soon as possi... | towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more ... | Emma |
"--but checking himself--" | No speaker | at her, "are you, indeed?"<|quote|>"--but checking himself--"</|quote|>"No, no, I understand you--forgive | "Emma!" cried he, looking eagerly at her, "are you, indeed?"<|quote|>"--but checking himself--"</|quote|>"No, no, I understand you--forgive me--I am pleased that you | be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason to regret that I was not in the secret earlier." "Emma!" cried he, looking eagerly at her, "are you, indeed?"<|quote|>"--but checking himself--"</|quote|>"No, no, I ... | of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied, "You are very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set you right.-- I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and d... | heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of th... | and looking at her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for,... | and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to be out of doors as soon as possible. Never had the ex... | wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindness." For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying... | Emma |
"No, no, I understand you--forgive me--I am pleased that you can say even so much.--He is no object of regret, indeed! and it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment of more than your reason.--Fortunate that your affections were not farther entangled!--I could never, I confess, from your m... | Mr. Knightley | you, indeed?" "--but checking himself--"<|quote|>"No, no, I understand you--forgive me--I am pleased that you can say even so much.--He is no object of regret, indeed! and it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment of more than your reason.--Fortunate that your affections were not farther ... | looking eagerly at her, "are you, indeed?" "--but checking himself--"<|quote|>"No, no, I understand you--forgive me--I am pleased that you can say even so much.--He is no object of regret, indeed! and it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment of more than your reason.--Fortunate that your... | and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason to regret that I was not in the secret earlier." "Emma!" cried he, looking eagerly at her, "are you, indeed?" "--but checking himself--"<|quote|>"No, no, I understand you--forgive ... | by such tender consideration, replied, "You are very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set you right.-- I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which m... | saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest frien... | her; "of what nature?" "Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding." After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied, "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already." "How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spok... | melancholy, seemed to reign at Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to be out of doors as soon as possible. Never had the exquisite sight... | you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindness." For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed agai... | Emma |
"Mr. Knightley," | Emma | will be a miserable creature."<|quote|>"Mr. Knightley,"</|quote|>said Emma, trying to be | sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature."<|quote|>"Mr. Knightley,"</|quote|>said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--" "I | to the degree of what you felt--I could only be certain that there was a preference--and a preference which I never believed him to deserve.--He is a disgrace to the name of man.--And is he to be rewarded with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature."<|quote|>"Mr. Knightley,"</|quote|>said... | pleased that you can say even so much.--He is no object of regret, indeed! and it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment of more than your reason.--Fortunate that your affections were not farther entangled!--I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure myself as to the degree of wh... | very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set you right.-- I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, b... | could presently say, with a little more composure, "_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindn... | spirits freshened, and thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, when she saw Mr. Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming towards her.--It was the first intimation of his being returned from London. She had been thinking of him the moment before, as unquestionably sixteen miles distant.--Ther... | have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindness." For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till... | Emma |
said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--" | No speaker | a miserable creature." "Mr. Knightley,"<|quote|>said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--"</|quote|>"I am in a very | woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature." "Mr. Knightley,"<|quote|>said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--"</|quote|>"I am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let | degree of what you felt--I could only be certain that there was a preference--and a preference which I never believed him to deserve.--He is a disgrace to the name of man.--And is he to be rewarded with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature." "Mr. Knightley,"<|quote|>said Emma, trying to... | you can say even so much.--He is no object of regret, indeed! and it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment of more than your reason.--Fortunate that your affections were not farther entangled!--I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure myself as to the degree of what you felt--... | you are mistaken--and I must set you right.-- I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no ot... | say, with a little more composure, "_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindness." For a mome... | and thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, when she saw Mr. Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming towards her.--It was the first intimation of his being returned from London. She had been thinking of him the moment before, as unquestionably sixteen miles distant.--There was time only for... | accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!" "--And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate." Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from the flutter of p... | Emma |
"I am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be natural for a woman to feel in confessin... | Emma | be lively, but really confused--"<|quote|>"I am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might b... | Knightley," said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--"<|quote|>"I am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been at all attached to the person ... | that there was a preference--and a preference which I never believed him to deserve.--He is a disgrace to the name of man.--And is he to be rewarded with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature." "Mr. Knightley," said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--"<|quote|>"I am in a ver... | of regret, indeed! and it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment of more than your reason.--Fortunate that your affections were not farther entangled!--I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure myself as to the degree of what you felt--I could only be certain that there was a pr... | am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason to regret that I was not in the secre... | been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindness." For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of ... | few turns, when she saw Mr. Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming towards her.--It was the first intimation of his being returned from London. She had been thinking of him the moment before, as unquestionably sixteen miles distant.--There was time only for the quickest arrangement of mind. She must be c... | father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!" "--And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I a... | Emma |
He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however. | No speaker | the reverse.--But I never have."<|quote|>He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however.</|quote|>"I have very little to | to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.--But I never have."<|quote|>He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however.</|q... | since my manners gave such an impression, I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be natural for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.--But I never have."<|quote|>He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to... | the name of man.--And is he to be rewarded with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature." "Mr. Knightley," said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--" "I am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such a... | earlier." "Emma!" cried he, looking eagerly at her, "are you, indeed?" "--but checking himself--" "No, no, I understand you--forgive me--I am pleased that you can say even so much.--He is no object of regret, indeed! and it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment of more than your reason.-... | her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he ad... | and constrained on each side. She asked after their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had he left them?--Only that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thou... | was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!" "--And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate." Emma understoo... | Emma |
"I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I was tempted by his attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.--An old story, probably--a common case--and no more than has happened to hundreds of my sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets up as I do for Understanding. Many circumsta... | Emma | opinion. She went on, however.<|quote|>"I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I was tempted by his attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.--An old story, probably--a common case--and no more than has happened to hundreds of my sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets up as... | to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however.<|quote|>"I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I was tempted by his attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.--An old story, probably--a common case--and no more than has happened to hundreds of my sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusab... | I never have." He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however.<|quote|>"I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I w... | and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be natural for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.--But I never have." He listened in perfect silence. She wis... | the acknowledgment of more than your reason.--Fortunate that your affections were not farther entangled!--I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure myself as to the degree of what you felt--I could only be certain that there was a preference--and a preference which I never believed him to deserve.--He is a di... | arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!" "--And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate." Emma under... | wanted there, preferred being out of doors."--She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received. They walked together. He was ... | to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a sinking voice and a heavy sigh) "I seem to have been doomed to blindness." For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, ... | Emma |
(with a sigh) | No speaker | very pleasant--and, in short, for"<|quote|>(with a sigh)</|quote|>"let me swell out the | continually here--I always found him very pleasant--and, in short, for"<|quote|>(with a sigh)</|quote|>"let me swell out the causes ever so ingeniously, they | has happened to hundreds of my sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets up as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation. He was the son of Mr. Weston--he was continually here--I always found him very pleasant--and, in short, for"<|quote|>(with a sigh)</|quote|>"let m... | clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however. "I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I was tempted by his attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.--An old story, probably--a common case--and no more than has happened to hundreds of my sex b... | to be lively, but really confused--" "I am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be nat... | I must set you right.-- I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason to regret t... | this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. S... | again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!" "--And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate." Emma understood him; and a... | Emma |
"let me swell out the causes ever so ingeniously, they all centre in this at last--my vanity was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. Latterly, however--for some time, indeed--I have had no idea of their meaning any thing.--I thought them a habit, a trick, nothing that called for seriousness on my side. He has impo... | Emma | short, for" (with a sigh)<|quote|>"let me swell out the causes ever so ingeniously, they all centre in this at last--my vanity was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. Latterly, however--for some time, indeed--I have had no idea of their meaning any thing.--I thought them a habit, a trick, nothing that called for s... | found him very pleasant--and, in short, for" (with a sigh)<|quote|>"let me swell out the causes ever so ingeniously, they all centre in this at last--my vanity was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. Latterly, however--for some time, indeed--I have had no idea of their meaning any thing.--I thought them a habit, a... | hundreds of my sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets up as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation. He was the son of Mr. Weston--he was continually here--I always found him very pleasant--and, in short, for" (with a sigh)<|quote|>"let me swell out the causes ev... | was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however. "I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I was tempted by his attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.--An old story, probably--a common case--and no more than has happened to hundreds of my sex before; and yet it... | but really confused--" "I am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be natural for a wom... | you right.-- I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason to regret that I was n... | another dread. Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She considered--resolv... | is he to be rewarded with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature." "Mr. Knightley," said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--" "I am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I have a... | Emma |
She had hoped for an answer here--for a few words to say that her conduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as she could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone, he said, | No speaker | or other safe from him."<|quote|>She had hoped for an answer here--for a few words to say that her conduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as she could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone, he said,</|quote|>"I have never had a | in short, I was somehow or other safe from him."<|quote|>She had hoped for an answer here--for a few words to say that her conduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as she could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone, he said,</|quote|>"I have never had a high opinion o... | a blind to conceal his real situation with another.--It was his object to blind all about him; and no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself--except that I was _not_ blinded--that it was my good fortune--that, in short, I was somehow or other safe from him."<|quote|>She had hoped for an answer he... | thing.--I thought them a habit, a trick, nothing that called for seriousness on my side. He has imposed on me, but he has not injured me. I have never been attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real situation with another.--... | appear pleased.--An old story, probably--a common case--and no more than has happened to hundreds of my sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets up as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation. He was the son of Mr. Weston--he was continually here--I always found him... | your manners, assure myself as to the degree of what you felt--I could only be certain that there was a preference--and a preference which I never believed him to deserve.--He is a disgrace to the name of man.--And is he to be rewarded with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature." "Mr. Kn... | towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called at Mrs. Goddard's in his way. "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more ... | attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.--An old story, probably--a common case--and no more than has happened to hundreds of my sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets up as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation. He was the son of Mr. Weston--he was co... | Emma |
"I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has been but trifling.--And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no motive for wishing him ill--and for her ... | Mr. Knightley | his usual tone, he said,<|quote|>"I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has been but trifling.--And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no motive ... | At last, and tolerably in his usual tone, he said,<|quote|>"I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has been but trifling.--And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a ... | was somehow or other safe from him." She had hoped for an answer here--for a few words to say that her conduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as she could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone, he said,<|quote|>"I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I... | wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real situation with another.--It was his object to blind all about him; and no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself--except that I was _not_ blinded--that it was my good fortune--that, in short, I was somehow or other safe from him." She... | was the son of Mr. Weston--he was continually here--I always found him very pleasant--and, in short, for" (with a sigh) "let me swell out the causes ever so ingeniously, they all centre in this at last--my vanity was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. Latterly, however--for some time, indeed--I have had no idea o... | with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature." "Mr. Knightley," said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--" "I am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I have as much reason to be a... | a brief account of what had happened." Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more composure, "_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--" (with a s... | me--I am pleased that you can say even so much.--He is no object of regret, indeed! and it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment of more than your reason.--Fortunate that your affections were not farther entangled!--I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure myself as to the deg... | Emma |
"I have no doubt of their being happy together," | Emma | shall certainly wish him well."<|quote|>"I have no doubt of their being happy together,"</|quote|>said Emma; "I believe them | good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him well."<|quote|>"I have no doubt of their being happy together,"</|quote|>said Emma; "I believe them to be very mutually and | but trifling.--And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no motive for wishing him ill--and for her sake, whose happiness will be involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him well."<|quote|>"I have no doubt of their be... | intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as she could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone, he said, "I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has been but trifling.--And even if I have not under... | on me, but he has not injured me. I have never been attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real situation with another.--It was his object to blind all about him; and no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than ... | might be natural for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.--But I never have." He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She ... | nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertio... | more than your reason.--Fortunate that your affections were not farther entangled!--I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure myself as to the degree of what you felt--I could only be certain that there was a preference--and a preference which I never believed him to deserve.--He is a disgrace to the name of ... | Emma |
said Emma; | No speaker | of their being happy together,"<|quote|>said Emma;</|quote|>"I believe them to be | well." "I have no doubt of their being happy together,"<|quote|>said Emma;</|quote|>"I believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely | hitherto, he may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no motive for wishing him ill--and for her sake, whose happiness will be involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him well." "I have no doubt of their being happy together,"<|quote|>said Emma;</|quote|>"I believe t... | she could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone, he said, "I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has been but trifling.--And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he may yet turn out well.--W... | have never been attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real situation with another.--It was his object to blind all about him; and no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself--except that I was _not_ blin... | confessing exactly the reverse.--But I never have." He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however. "I have very little to... | excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow ... | himself--" "No, no, I understand you--forgive me--I am pleased that you can say even so much.--He is no object of regret, indeed! and it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment of more than your reason.--Fortunate that your affections were not farther entangled!--I could never, I confess, ... | Emma |
"I believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached." | Emma | being happy together," said Emma;<|quote|>"I believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached."</|quote|>"He is a most fortunate | have no doubt of their being happy together," said Emma;<|quote|>"I believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached."</|quote|>"He is a most fortunate man!" returned Mr. Knightley, with | may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no motive for wishing him ill--and for her sake, whose happiness will be involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him well." "I have no doubt of their being happy together," said Emma;<|quote|>"I believe them to be very mutuall... | judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone, he said, "I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has been but trifling.--And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he may yet turn out well.--With such a... | been attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real situation with another.--It was his object to blind all about him; and no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself--except that I was _not_ blinded--that i... | the reverse.--But I never have." He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however. "I have very little to say for my own con... | particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--."... | gave such an impression, I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be natural for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.--But I never have." He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would not.... | Emma |
"He is a most fortunate man!" | Mr. Knightley | mutually and very sincerely attached."<|quote|>"He is a most fortunate man!"</|quote|>returned Mr. Knightley, with energy. | believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached."<|quote|>"He is a most fortunate man!"</|quote|>returned Mr. Knightley, with energy. "So early in life--at three-and-twenty--a | chance.--I have no motive for wishing him ill--and for her sake, whose happiness will be involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him well." "I have no doubt of their being happy together," said Emma; "I believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached."<|quote|>"He is a most fortu... | tone, he said, "I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has been but trifling.--And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no motive for wishing him il... | behaviour. He never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real situation with another.--It was his object to blind all about him; and no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself--except that I was _not_ blinded--that it was my good fortune--that, in short, I was somehow or other... | wished him to speak, but he would not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however. "I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I was tempted by his attentions, and allowed myself to appear ... | pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subd... | have." He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however. "I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I was tempted by hi... | Emma |
returned Mr. Knightley, with energy. | No speaker | is a most fortunate man!"<|quote|>returned Mr. Knightley, with energy.</|quote|>"So early in life--at three-and-twenty--a | and very sincerely attached." "He is a most fortunate man!"<|quote|>returned Mr. Knightley, with energy.</|quote|>"So early in life--at three-and-twenty--a period when, if a man | him ill--and for her sake, whose happiness will be involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him well." "I have no doubt of their being happy together," said Emma; "I believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached." "He is a most fortunate man!"<|quote|>returned Mr. Knightley, wit... | had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has been but trifling.--And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no motive for wishing him ill--and for her sake, whose ha... | me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real situation with another.--It was his object to blind all about him; and no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself--except that I was _not_ blinded--that it was my good fortune--that, in short, I was somehow or other safe from him." She had hoped for an... | would not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however. "I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I was tempted by his attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.--An old story, prob... | him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warm... | in one who sets up as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation. He was the son of Mr. Weston--he was continually here--I always found him very pleasant--and, in short, for" (with a sigh) "let me swell out the causes ever so ingeniously, they all centre in this at last--my vanity was flattered,... | Emma |
"So early in life--at three-and-twenty--a period when, if a man chuses a wife, he generally chuses ill. At three-and-twenty to have drawn such a prize! What years of felicity that man, in all human calculation, has before him!--Assured of the love of such a woman--the disinterested love, for Jane Fairfax's character vo... | Mr. Knightley | returned Mr. Knightley, with energy.<|quote|>"So early in life--at three-and-twenty--a period when, if a man chuses a wife, he generally chuses ill. At three-and-twenty to have drawn such a prize! What years of felicity that man, in all human calculation, has before him!--Assured of the love of such a woman--the disint... | is a most fortunate man!" returned Mr. Knightley, with energy.<|quote|>"So early in life--at three-and-twenty--a period when, if a man chuses a wife, he generally chuses ill. At three-and-twenty to have drawn such a prize! What years of felicity that man, in all human calculation, has before him!--Assured of the love o... | whose happiness will be involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him well." "I have no doubt of their being happy together," said Emma; "I believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached." "He is a most fortunate man!" returned Mr. Knightley, with energy.<|quote|>"So early in life... | Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has been but trifling.--And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no motive for wishing him ill--and for her sake, whose happiness will be involv... | blind to conceal his real situation with another.--It was his object to blind all about him; and no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself--except that I was _not_ blinded--that it was my good fortune--that, in short, I was somehow or other safe from him." She had hoped for an answer here--for a ... | must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She went on, however. "I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I was tempted by his attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.--An old story, probably--a common case--and no ... | tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will not allow yourself--." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indign... | such an impression, I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be natural for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.--But I never have." He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would not. She ... | Emma |
"You speak as if you envied him." | Emma | is a fortunate man indeed!"<|quote|>"You speak as if you envied him."</|quote|>"And I do envy him, | all delighted to forgive him.--He is a fortunate man indeed!"<|quote|>"You speak as if you envied him."</|quote|>"And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he | the world for a perfect wife for him, they could not have found her superior.--His aunt is in the way.--His aunt dies.--He has only to speak.--His friends are eager to promote his happiness.--He had used every body ill--and they are all delighted to forgive him.--He is a fortunate man indeed!"<|quote|>"You speak as if ... | _her_ regard, must, I think, be the happiest of mortals.--Frank Churchill is, indeed, the favourite of fortune. Every thing turns out for his good.--He meets with a young woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot even weary her by negligent treatment--and had he and all his family sought round the world fo... | woman--the disinterested love, for Jane Fairfax's character vouches for her disinterestedness; every thing in his favour,--equality of situation--I mean, as far as regards society, and all the habits and manners that are important; equality in every point but one--and that one, since the purity of her heart is not to b... | or other safe from him." She had hoped for an answer here--for a few words to say that her conduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as she could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone, he said, "I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, howeve... | could never, I confess, from your manners, assure myself as to the degree of what you felt--I could only be certain that there was a preference--and a preference which I never believed him to deserve.--He is a disgrace to the name of man.--And is he to be rewarded with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a... | his attentions. Latterly, however--for some time, indeed--I have had no idea of their meaning any thing.--I thought them a habit, a trick, nothing that called for seriousness on my side. He has imposed on me, but he has not injured me. I have never been attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour.... | Emma |
"And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy." | Mr. Knightley | as if you envied him."<|quote|>"And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy."</|quote|>Emma could say no more. | fortunate man indeed!" "You speak as if you envied him."<|quote|>"And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy."</|quote|>Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within | him, they could not have found her superior.--His aunt is in the way.--His aunt dies.--He has only to speak.--His friends are eager to promote his happiness.--He had used every body ill--and they are all delighted to forgive him.--He is a fortunate man indeed!" "You speak as if you envied him."<|quote|>"And I do envy h... | happiest of mortals.--Frank Churchill is, indeed, the favourite of fortune. Every thing turns out for his good.--He meets with a young woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot even weary her by negligent treatment--and had he and all his family sought round the world for a perfect wife for him, they could... | vouches for her disinterestedness; every thing in his favour,--equality of situation--I mean, as far as regards society, and all the habits and manners that are important; equality in every point but one--and that one, since the purity of her heart is not to be doubted, such as must increase his felicity, for it will b... | hoped for an answer here--for a few words to say that her conduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as she could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone, he said, "I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him... | assure myself as to the degree of what you felt--I could only be certain that there was a preference--and a preference which I never believed him to deserve.--He is a disgrace to the name of man.--And is he to be rewarded with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature." "Mr. Knightley," said... | of their meaning any thing.--I thought them a habit, a trick, nothing that called for seriousness on my side. He has imposed on me, but he has not injured me. I have never been attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real situ... | Emma |
Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within half a sentence of Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if possible. She made her plan; she would speak of something totally different--the children in Brunswick Square; and she only waited for breath to begin, when Mr. Knightley startled her, by ... | No speaker | the object of my envy."<|quote|>Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within half a sentence of Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if possible. She made her plan; she would speak of something totally different--the children in Brunswick Square; and she only waited for breath to begin, when... | In one respect he is the object of my envy."<|quote|>Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within half a sentence of Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if possible. She made her plan; she would speak of something totally different--the children in Brunswick Square; and she only waited for ... | only to speak.--His friends are eager to promote his happiness.--He had used every body ill--and they are all delighted to forgive him.--He is a fortunate man indeed!" "You speak as if you envied him." "And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy."<|quote|>Emma could say no more. They seemed to ... | good.--He meets with a young woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot even weary her by negligent treatment--and had he and all his family sought round the world for a perfect wife for him, they could not have found her superior.--His aunt is in the way.--His aunt dies.--He has only to speak.--His friends... | society, and all the habits and manners that are important; equality in every point but one--and that one, since the purity of her heart is not to be doubted, such as must increase his felicity, for it will be his to bestow the only advantages she wants.--A man would always wish to give a woman a better home than the o... | intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as she could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone, he said, "I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose, however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has been but trifling.--And even if I have not under... | was a preference--and a preference which I never believed him to deserve.--He is a disgrace to the name of man.--And is he to be rewarded with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature." "Mr. Knightley," said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--" "I am in a very extraordinary sit... | as far as regards society, and all the habits and manners that are important; equality in every point but one--and that one, since the purity of her heart is not to be doubted, such as must increase his felicity, for it will be his to bestow the only advantages she wants.--A man would always wish to give a woman a bett... | Emma |
"You will not ask me what is the point of envy.--You are determined, I see, to have no curiosity.--You are wise--but _I_ cannot be wise. Emma, I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment." | Mr. Knightley | Knightley startled her, by saying,<|quote|>"You will not ask me what is the point of envy.--You are determined, I see, to have no curiosity.--You are wise--but _I_ cannot be wise. Emma, I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment."</|quote|>"Oh! then, don't speak it, | breath to begin, when Mr. Knightley startled her, by saying,<|quote|>"You will not ask me what is the point of envy.--You are determined, I see, to have no curiosity.--You are wise--but _I_ cannot be wise. Emma, I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment."</|quote|>"Oh! then, don... | seemed to be within half a sentence of Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if possible. She made her plan; she would speak of something totally different--the children in Brunswick Square; and she only waited for breath to begin, when Mr. Knightley startled her, by saying,<|quote|>"You will not... | to promote his happiness.--He had used every body ill--and they are all delighted to forgive him.--He is a fortunate man indeed!" "You speak as if you envied him." "And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy." Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within half a sentence of Harriet, and her ... | better home than the one he takes her from; and he who can do it, where there is no doubt of _her_ regard, must, I think, be the happiest of mortals.--Frank Churchill is, indeed, the favourite of fortune. Every thing turns out for his good.--He meets with a young woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot e... | not underrated him hitherto, he may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no motive for wishing him ill--and for her sake, whose happiness will be involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him well." "I have no doubt of their being happy together," said Emma; "I believe... | cannot let you continue in your error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be natural for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.--But I never have." ... | nothing that called for seriousness on my side. He has imposed on me, but he has not injured me. I have never been attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real situation with another.--It was his object to blind all about him;... | Emma |
"Oh! then, don't speak it, don't speak it," | Emma | it unsaid the next moment."<|quote|>"Oh! then, don't speak it, don't speak it,"</|quote|>she eagerly cried. "Take a | ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment."<|quote|>"Oh! then, don't speak it, don't speak it,"</|quote|>she eagerly cried. "Take a little time, consider, do not | Mr. Knightley startled her, by saying, "You will not ask me what is the point of envy.--You are determined, I see, to have no curiosity.--You are wise--but _I_ cannot be wise. Emma, I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment."<|quote|>"Oh! then, don't speak it, don't speak it,"</... | Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within half a sentence of Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if possible. She made her plan; she would speak of something totally different--the children in Brunswick Square; and she only waited for breath to begin, when Mr. Knightley startled her, by ... | good.--He meets with a young woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot even weary her by negligent treatment--and had he and all his family sought round the world for a perfect wife for him, they could not have found her superior.--His aunt is in the way.--His aunt dies.--He has only to speak.--His friends... | "I have no doubt of their being happy together," said Emma; "I believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached." "He is a most fortunate man!" returned Mr. Knightley, with energy. "So early in life--at three-and-twenty--a period when, if a man chuses a wife, he generally chuses ill. At three-and-twenty to ... | might be natural for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.--But I never have." He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion. She ... | hitherto, he may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no motive for wishing him ill--and for her sake, whose happiness will be involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him well." "I have no doubt of their being happy together," said Emma; "I believe them to be very mu... | Emma |
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