had not Sophia, who was just recovered from her swoon, entreated me to consider that night was now approaching and that the damps began to fall. 'And whither shall we go (said I) to shelter us from either?' 'To that white cottage.' (replied she, pointing to a neat building which
8. Opportune. royal grace during the reign of Henry VIII. Laura, 9. Type of open carriage, named for the over- like any well-trained schoolgirl of the 18 th century, adventurous charioteer of Greek mythology. knows how to moralize on topics from English his1. The reference is to Cardinal Wolsey's fall from tory.
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53 0 / JANE AUSTEN
rose up amidst the grove of elms and which I had not before observed?) I agreed, and we instantly walked to it?we knocked at the door?it was opened by an old woman; on being requested to afford us a night's lodging, she informed us that her house was but small, that she had only two bedrooms, but that however, we should be welcome to one of them. We were satisfied and followed the good woman into the house, where we were greatly cheered by the sight of a comfortable fire?. She was a widow and had only one daughter, who was then just seventeen?One of the best of ages; but alas! she was very plain and her name was Bridget
Nothing therefore could be expected from her?she could not be supposed to possess either exalted ideas, delicate feelings, or refined sensibilities?She was nothing more than a mere good-tempered, civil, and obliging young woman; as such we could scarcely dislike her?she was only an object of contempt?.
Adieu. Laura
LETTER THE FOURTEENTH Laura in continuation
Arm yourself, my amiable young friend, with all the philosophy you are mistress of; summon up all the fortitude you possess, for alas! in the perusal of the following pages your sensibility will be most severely tried. Ah! what were the misfortunes I had before experienced and which I have already related to you, to the one I am now going to inform you of. The death of my father, 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 disagreeable headache. 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 consumption2 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 has occasioned it . . . beware of fainting-fits . . . Though at the time they may be refreshing and agreeable, yet, believe me, they will in the end, if too
2. A rapidly developing case of tuberculosis.
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LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP / 531
often repeated and at improper seasons, prove destructive to your constitution
My fate will teach you this .. . I die a martyr to my grief 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 choose; but do not faint?'.
These were the last words she ever addressed to me .. . It was her dying advice to her afflicted Laura, who has ever most faithfully adhered to it.
After having attended my lamented friend to her early grave, I immediately (though 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 stagecoach, in which I instantly took a place, determined to proceed in it to Edinburgh, where I hoped to find some kind pitying friend 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 any thing 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 sat 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 look[ing] out of [the] windows, I beheld the husband of Philippa, with Philippa by his side, on the coach-box,3 and when, on looking behind, I beheld Philander and Gustavus in the basket.4 '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 friend but you?'.
'What! (interrupted Augusta) is my brother dead then? Tell us, I entreat you, what is become of him?' 'Yes, cold and insensible5 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.'
