Love and Friendship, and Other Early Works by Jane Austen (ebook offline .txt) 📕

>Father and my Mother and my Husband though almost more than my

gentle Nature could support, were trifles in comparison to the

misfortune I am now proceeding to relate. The morning after our

arrival at the Cottage, Sophia complained of a violent pain in

her delicate limbs, accompanied with a disagreable Head-ake She

attributed it to a cold caught by her continued faintings in the

open air as the Dew was falling the Evening before. This I

feared was but too probably the case; since how could it be

otherwise accounted for that I should have escaped the same

indisposition, but by supposing that the bodily Exertions I had

undergone in my repeated fits of frenzy had so effectually

circulated and warmed my Blood as to make me proof against the

chilling Damps of Night, whereas, Sophia lying totally inactive

on the ground must have been exposed to all their severity. I

was most seriously alarmed by her illness which trifling as it

may appear to you, a certain instinctive sensibility whispered

me, would in the End be fatal to her.

 

Alas! my fears were but too fully justified; she grew gradually

worse—and I daily became more alarmed for her. At length she

was obliged to confine herself solely to the Bed allotted us by

our worthy Landlady—. Her disorder turned to a galloping

Consumption and in a few days carried her off. Amidst all my

Lamentations for her (and violent you may suppose they were) I

yet received some consolation in the reflection of my having paid

every attention to her, that could be offered, in her illness. I

had wept over her every Day—had bathed her sweet face with my

tears and had pressed her fair Hands continually in mine—. “My

beloved Laura (said she to me a few Hours before she died) take

warning from my unhappy End and avoid the imprudent conduct which

had occasioned it… Beware of fainting-fits… Though at the

time they may be refreshing and agreable yet beleive me they will

in the end, if too often repeated and at improper seasons, prove

destructive to your Constitution… My fate will teach you

this. . I die a Martyr to my greif for the loss of Augustus. .

One fatal swoon has cost me my Life. . Beware of swoons Dear

Laura… . A frenzy fit is not one quarter so pernicious; it is

an exercise to the Body and if not too violent, is I dare say

conducive to Health in its consequences—Run mad as often as you

chuse; but do not faint—”

 

These were the last words she ever addressed to me. . It was her

dieing Advice to her afflicted Laura, who has ever most

faithfully adhered to it.

 

After having attended my lamented freind to her Early Grave, I

immediately (tho’ late at night) left the detested Village in

which she died, and near which had expired my Husband and

Augustus. I had not walked many yards from it before I was

overtaken by a stage-coach, in which I instantly took a place,

determined to proceed in it to Edinburgh, where I hoped to find

some kind some pitying Freind who would receive and comfort me in

my afflictions.

 

It was so dark when I entered the Coach that I could not

distinguish the Number of my Fellow-travellers; I could only

perceive that they were many. Regardless however of anything

concerning them, I gave myself up to my own sad Reflections. A

general silence prevailed—A silence, which was by nothing

interrupted but by the loud and repeated snores of one of the

Party.

 

“What an illiterate villain must that man be! (thought I to

myself) What a total want of delicate refinement must he have,

who can thus shock our senses by such a brutal noise! He must I

am certain be capable of every bad action! There is no crime too

black for such a Character!” Thus reasoned I within myself, and

doubtless such were the reflections of my fellow travellers.

 

At length, returning Day enabled me to behold the unprincipled

Scoundrel who had so violently disturbed my feelings. It was Sir

Edward the father of my Deceased Husband. By his side sate

Augusta, and on the same seat with me were your Mother and Lady

Dorothea. Imagine my surprise at finding myself thus seated

amongst my old Acquaintance. Great as was my astonishment, it

was yet increased, when on looking out of Windows, I beheld the

Husband of Philippa, with Philippa by his side, on the Coachbox

and when on looking behind I beheld, Philander and Gustavus in

the Basket. “Oh! Heavens, (exclaimed I) is it possible that I

should so unexpectedly be surrounded by my nearest Relations and

Connections?” These words roused the rest of the Party, and

every eye was directed to the corner in which I sat. “Oh! my

Isabel (continued I throwing myself across Lady Dorothea into her

arms) receive once more to your Bosom the unfortunate Laura.

Alas! when we last parted in the Vale of Usk, I was happy in

being united to the best of Edwards; I had then a Father and a

Mother, and had never known misfortunes—But now deprived of

every freind but you—”

 

“What! (interrupted Augusta) is my Brother dead then? Tell us I

intreat you what is become of him?” “Yes, cold and insensible

Nymph, (replied I) that luckless swain your Brother, is no more,

and you may now glory in being the Heiress of Sir Edward’s

fortune.”

 

Although I had always despised her from the Day I had overheard

her conversation with my Edward, yet in civility I complied with

hers and Sir Edward’s intreaties that I would inform them of the

whole melancholy affair. They were greatly shocked—even the

obdurate Heart of Sir Edward and the insensible one of Augusta,

were touched with sorrow, by the unhappy tale. At the request of

your Mother I related to them every other misfortune which had

befallen me since we parted. Of the imprisonment of Augustus and

the absence of Edward—of our arrival in Scotland—of our

unexpected Meeting with our Grandfather and our cousins—of our

visit to Macdonald-Hall—of the singular service we there

performed towards Janetta—of her Fathers ingratitude for it . .

of his inhuman Behaviour, unaccountable suspicions, and barbarous

treatment of us, in obliging us to leave the House . . of our

lamentations on the loss of Edward and Augustus and finally of

the melancholy Death of my beloved Companion.

 

Pity and surprise were strongly depictured in your Mother’s

countenance, during the whole of my narration, but I am sorry to

say, that to the eternal reproach of her sensibility, the latter

infinitely predominated. Nay, faultless as my conduct had

certainly been during the whole course of my late misfortunes and

adventures, she pretended to find fault with my behaviour in many

of the situations in which I had been placed. As I was sensible

myself, that I had always behaved in a manner which reflected

Honour on my Feelings and Refinement, I paid little attention to

what she said, and desired her to satisfy my Curiosity by

informing me how she came there, instead of wounding my spotless

reputation with unjustifiable Reproaches. As soon as she had

complyed with my wishes in this particular and had given me an

accurate detail of every thing that had befallen her since our

separation (the particulars of which if you are not already

acquainted with, your Mother will give you) I applied to Augusta

for the same information respecting herself, Sir Edward and Lady

Dorothea.

 

She told me that having a considerable taste for the Beauties

of Nature, her curiosity to behold the delightful scenes it

exhibited in that part of the World had been so much raised by

Gilpin’s Tour to the Highlands, that she had prevailed on her

Father to undertake a Tour to Scotland and had persuaded Lady

Dorothea to accompany them. That they had arrived at Edinburgh a

few Days before and from thence had made daily Excursions into the

Country around in the Stage Coach they were then in, from one of

which Excursions they were at that time returning. My next

enquiries were concerning Philippa and her Husband, the latter of

whom I learned having spent all her fortune, had recourse for

subsistence to the talent in which, he had always most excelled,

namely, Driving, and that having sold every thing which belonged

to them except their Coach, had converted it into a Stage and in

order to be removed from any of his former Acquaintance, had

driven it to Edinburgh from whence he went to Sterling every other

Day. That Philippa still retaining her affection for her

ungratefull Husband, had followed him to Scotland and generally

accompanied him in his little Excursions to Sterling. “It has only

been to throw a little money into their Pockets (continued

Augusta) that my Father has always travelled in their Coach to

veiw the beauties of the Country since our arrival in Scotland

—for it would certainly have been much more agreable to us, to

visit the Highlands in a Postchaise than merely to travel from

Edinburgh to Sterling and from Sterling to Edinburgh every other

Day in a crowded and uncomfortable Stage.” I perfectly agreed with

her in her sentiments on the affair, and secretly blamed Sir

Edward for thus sacrificing his Daughter’s Pleasure for the sake

of a ridiculous old woman whose folly in marrying so young a man

ought to be punished. His Behaviour however was entirely of a

peice with his general Character; for what could be expected from

a man who possessed not the smallest atom of Sensibility, who

scarcely knew the meaning of simpathy, and who actually snored—.

Adeiu

Laura.

 

LETTER the 15th

LAURA in continuation.

 

When we arrived at the town where we were to Breakfast, I was

determined to speak with Philander and Gustavus, and to that

purpose as soon as I left the Carriage, I went to the Basket and

tenderly enquired after their Health, expressing my fears of the

uneasiness of their situation. At first they seemed rather

confused at my appearance dreading no doubt that I might call them

to account for the money which our Grandfather had left me and

which they had unjustly deprived me of, but finding that I

mentioned nothing of the Matter, they desired me to step into the

Basket as we might there converse with greater ease. Accordingly I

entered and whilst the rest of the party were devouring green tea

and buttered toast, we feasted ourselves in a more refined and

sentimental Manner by a confidential Conversation. I informed them

of every thing which had befallen me during the course of my life,

and at my request they related to me every incident of theirs.

 

“We are the sons as you already know, of the two youngest

Daughters which Lord St Clair had by Laurina an italian opera

girl. Our mothers could neither of them exactly ascertain who were

our Father, though it is generally beleived that Philander, is the

son of one Philip Jones a Bricklayer and that my Father was one

Gregory Staves a Staymaker of Edinburgh. This is however of little

consequence for as our Mothers were certainly never married to

either of them it reflects no Dishonour on our Blood, which is of

a most ancient and unpolluted kind. Bertha (the Mother of

Philander) and Agatha (my own Mother) always lived together. They

were neither of them very rich; their united fortunes had

originally amounted to nine thousand Pounds, but as they had

always lived on the principal of it, when we were fifteen it was

diminished to nine Hundred. This nine Hundred they always kept in

a Drawer in one of the Tables which stood in our common sitting

Parlour, for the convenience of having it always at