The Three Ages of Woman

The Three Ages of Woman
the polish rider
The Sacrifice of Abraham painting
Miss Woodhouse made the proper acquiescence; and finding that nothing more was to be entrapped from any communication of Mrs. Cole's, turned to Frank Churchill. 　　 "Why do you smile?" said she. 　　 "Nay, why do you?" 　　 "Me!--I suppose I smile for pleasure at Colonel Campbell's being so rich and so liberal.--It is a handsome present." 　　 "Very." 　　 "I rather wonder that it was never made before." 　　 "Perhaps Miss Fairfax has never been staying here so long before." 　　 "Or that he did not give her the use of their own instrument-- which must now be shut up in London, untouched by any body." 　　 "That is a grand pianoforte, and he might think it too large for Mrs. Bates's house." 　　 "You may say what you chuse--but your countenance testifies that your thoughts on this subject are very much like mine." 　　 "I do not know. I rather believe you are giving me more credit for acuteness than I deserve. I smile because you smile, and shall probably suspect whatever I find you suspect; but at present I do not see what there is to question. If Colonel Campbell is not the person, who can be?" 　　 "What do you say to Mrs. Dixon?"