Host (Jane Austen Bedtime Stories)

Believe me, sir, I am far, very far, from gratified in being the object of such professions.

Good heaven, cried Mr. Elton.

What can be the meaning of this?

Miss Smith.

I never thought of Miss Smith in the whole course of my existence.

Never paid her any attentions, but as your friend.

Never cared whether she were dead or alive, but as your friend.

If she has fancied otherwise, her own wishes have misled her, and I am very sorry, extremely sorry.

But Miss Smith, indeed.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, who can think of Miss Smith when Miss Woodhouse is near?

No, upon my honour, there is no unsteadiness of character."

I have thought only of you.

I protest against having paid the smallest attention to anyone else.

Everything that I have said or done for many weeks past has been with the sole view of marking my adoration of yourself.

You cannot really seriously doubt it.

No.

in an accent meant to be insinuating, I am sure you have seen and understood me.

It would be impossible to say what Emma felt on hearing this, which of all her unpleasant sensations was uppermost.

She was too completely overpowered to be immediately able to reply.

and two moments of silence being ample encouragement for Mr. Elton's sanguine state of mind, he tried to take her hand again, as he joyously exclaimed, Charming Miss Woodhouse, allow me to interpret this interesting silence.