Love and Freindship by Jane Austen

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:15):
Part one of Love and Friendship. This is a LibriVox recording.
All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more
information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording
by Cory Samuel. Love and Friendship by Jane Austen to

(00:38):
Madame la Comtesse de foyde. This novel is inscribed by
her obliged, humble servant, the author deceived in friendship and
betrayed in love. Letter the first from Isabel to Laura.
How often, in answer to my repeated entreaties that you

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would give my daughter a regular detail of the misfortunes
and adventures of your life, have you said, no, my friend?
Never will I comply with your request till I may
be no longer in danger of again experiencing such dreadful ones.
Surely that time is now at hand. You are this
day fifty five. If a woman may ever be said

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to be in safety from the determined perseverance of disagreeable
lovers and the cruel persecutions of obstinate fathers, surely it
must be at such a time of life, Isabel letter
second Laura to Isabel. Although I cannot agree with you

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in supposing that I shall never again be exposed to
misfortunes as unmerited as those I have already experienced. Yet
to avoid the imputation of obstinacy or ill nature, I
will gratify the curiosity of your daughter, and may the
fortitude with which I have suffer the many afflictions of
my past life proved to her a useful lesson for

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the support of those which may befall her in her
own Laura letter Third Laura to Mary Anne. As the
daughter of my most intimate friend, I think you entitled
to that knowledge of my unhappy story which your mother
has so often solicited me to give you. My father

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was a native of Ireland and an inhabitant of Wales.
My mother was the natural daughter of a Scotch peer
by an Italian opera girl. I was born in Spain
and received my education at a convent in France. When
I had reached my eighteenth year, I was recalled by
my parents to my paternal roof in Wales. Our mansion

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was situated in one of the most romantic parts of
the Vale of Usk. Though my charms are now considerably
softened and somewhat impaired by the misfortunes I have undergone.
I was once beautiful, but lovely as I was, the
graces of my person were the least of my perfections,
of every accomplishment accustomary to my sex. I was mistress

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when in the convent my progress had always exceeded my instructions.
My acquirements had been wonderful for my age, and I
had shortly surpassed my master's. In my mind, every virtue
that could adorn it was centered. It was the rendezvous
of every good quality and of every noble sentiment, A

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sensibility too tremblingly alive. To every affliction of my friends
my acquaintance, and particularly to every affliction of my own,
was my only fault. If a fault, it could be
called alas how altered now though indeed my own misfortunes
do not make less impression on me than they ever did.

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Yet now I never feel for those of another. My
accomplishments too begin to fade. I can neither sing so
well nor dance so gracefully as I once did, and
I have entirely forgotten the minuet de la cour adieu.
Laura letter forth Laura to Mary Anne, our neighborhood was small,

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for it consisted only of your mother. She may probably
have already told you that, being left by her parents
in indigent circumstances, she had retired into Wales on economical motives.
There it was our friendship first commenced. Isabel was then
one and twenty. Though pleasing both in her person and

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manners between ourselves, she never possessed the hundredth part of
my beauty or accomplishments. Isabel had seen the world. She
had passed two years at one of the first boarding
schools in London, had spent a fortnight in Bath, and
had supped one night in Southampton. Beware, my Laura, she
would often say, Beware of the insipid vanities and idle

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dissipations of the metropolis of England. Beware of the unmeaning
luxuries of Bath, and of the stinking fish of Southampton.
Alas exclaimed, I, how am I to avoid those evils?
I shall never be exposed to What probability is there
of my ever tasting the dissipations of London, the luxuries

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of Bath, or the stinking fish of Southampton. I who
am doomed to waste my days of youth and beauty
in a humble cottage in the veil of usk Ah.
Little did I then think I was ordained so soon
to quit that humble cottage for the deceitful pleasures of
the world. Adieu, Laura letter fifth Laura to Mary Anne.

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One evening in December, as my father, my mother, and
myself were arranged in social converse round our FIRESO, we
were on a sudden greatly astonished by hearing a violent
knocking on the outward door of our rustic cot My
father started, What noise is that? Said he. It sounds

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like a loud rapping at the door, replied my mother.
It does, indeed, cried I. I am of your opinion,
said my father. It certainly does appear to proceed from
some uncommon violence exerted against our unoffending door. Yes, exclaimed I.
I cannot help thinking it must be somebody who knocks
for admittance. That is another point, replied he. We must

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not pretend to determine on what motive the person may knock, though,
that some one does rap at the door, I am
partly convinced. Here A second tremendous rap, interrupted my father
in his speech, and somewhat alarmed my mother and me,
had we better not go and see who it is,
said she. The servants are out, I think we had,

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replied certainly, added my father. By all means, shall we
go now, said my mother. The sooner the better, answered he. Oh,
let no time be lost, cried I. A third more
violent rap than ever again assaulted our ears. I am
certain there is somebody knocking at the door, said my mother.

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I think there must, replied my father. I fancy the
servants are returned, said I. I think I hear Mary
going to the door. I am glad of it, cried
my father, for I long to know who it is.
I was right in my conjecture, for Mary, instantly entering
the room, informed us that a young gentleman and his

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servant were at the door, who had lost their way,
were very cold, and begged leave to warm themselves by
our fire. Won't you admit them? Said I. You have
no objection, my dear, said my father. None in the world,
replied my mother. May, without waiting for any further commands,

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immediately left the room and quickly returned, introducing the most
beauteous and amiable youth I had ever beheld the servant.
She kept to herself my natural sensibility had already been
greatly affected by the sufferings of the unfortunate stranger. And
no sooner did I first behold him than I felt

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that on him the happiness or misery of my future
life must depend. Adieu Laura, Letter sixth Laura to Mary Anne.
The noble youth informed us that his name was Lindsey.
For particular reasons, however, I shall conceal it under that

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of Talbot. He told us that he was the son
of an English baronet, that his mother had been for
many years no more, and that he had a sister
of the middle size. My father, he continued, is a
mean and mercenary wretch. It is only to such particular
friends as this dear party, that I would thus betray
his failings. Your virtues, my amiable Polydor, addressing himself to

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my father, yours, dear Claudia, and yours, my charming Laura,
call on me to repose in you my confidence. We bowed.
My father, seduced by the false glare of fortune and
the deluding pomp of title, insisted on my giving my
hand to Lady Dorothea. No never exclaimed I, Lady Dorothea

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is lovely and engaging. I prefer no woman to her,
but know, Sir that I scorn to marry her in
compliance with your wishes. No never shall it be said
that I obliged my father. We all admired the noble
manliness of his reply. He continued, Sir Edward was surprised

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he had perhaps little expected to meet with so spirited
an opposition to his will. Where Edward, in the name
of Wonder, said he did you pick up this unmeaning
gibberish who have been studying novels? I suspect, I scorned
to answer. It would have been beneath my dignity. I
mounted my horse, and, followed by my faithful William, set

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forth for my aunt's. My father's house is situated in Bedfordshire,
my aunt's in Middlesex. And though I flatter myself with
being a tolerable proficient gen geography, I know not how
it happened. But I found myself entering this beautiful vale,
which I find as in South Wales, when I had
expected to have reached my aunt's. After having wandered some

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time on the banks of the usk, without knowing which
way to go, I began to lament my cruel destiny
in the bitterest and most pathetic manner. It was now
perfectly dark. Not a single star was there to direct
my steps. And I know not what might have befallen
me had I not at length discerned, through the solemn

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gloom that surrounded me, a distant light, which, as I
approached it covered to be the cheerful blaze of your fire.
Impelled by the combination of misfortunes under which I labored,
namely fear, cold and hunger, I hesitated not to ask admittance,
which at length I have gained. And now my adorable

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Laura continued, he taking my hand. When may I hope
to receive that reward of all the painful sufferings I
have undergone during the course of my attachment to you,
to which I have ever aspired? Oh, when will you
reward me with yourself? This instant, dear and amiable Edward

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replied I. We were immediately united by my father, who,
though he had never taken orders, had been bred to
the church. Adieu, Lura, Letter seventh Laura to marry Anne.
We remained but a few days after our marriage in

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the veil of Usk, after time taking an affecting farewell
of my father, my mother, and my Isabel, I accompanied
Edward to his aunt's in Middlesex. Philippa received us both
with every expression of affectionate love. My arrival was indeed
a most agreeable surprise to her, as she had not
only been totally ignorant of my marriage with her nephew,

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but had never even had the slightest idea of there
being such a person in the world. Augusta, the sister
of Edward, was on a visit to her. When we arrived,
I found her exactly what her brother had described her
to be, of the middle size. She received me with
equal surprise, though not with equal cordiality as Philippa. There

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was a disagreeable coldness and forbidding reserve in her reception
of me, which was equally distressing and unexpected. None of
that interesting sensibility or amiable sympathy in her manners and
address to me when we first met, which should have
distinguished our introduction to each other. Her language was neither
warm nor affectionate. Her expressions of regard were neither animated

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nor cordial. Her arms were not opened to receive me
to her heart, though my own were extended to press
her to mine. A short conversation between Augusta and her brother,
which I accidentally overheard, increased my dislike to her and
convinced me that her heart was no more formed for
the soft ties of love than for the endearing intercourse

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of friendship. But do you think that my father will
ever be reconciled to this imprudent connection, said Augusta. Augusta
replied the noble youth, I thought you had a better
opinion of me than to imagine I would so abjectly
degrade myself as to consider my father's concurrence in any
of my affairs, either of consequence or concern to me.

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Tell me, Augusta, with sincerity, did you ever know me
to consult his inclinations or follow his advice in the
least trifling particular since the age of fifty, Edward replied she,
you are surely too diffident in your own praise, since
you are fifteen. Only my dear brother, since you were

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five years old, I entirely acquit you of ever having
willingly contributed to the satisfaction of your father. But still
I am not without apprehensions of your being shortly obliged
to degrade yourself in your own eyes by seeking a
support for your wife in the generosity of Sir Edward. Never, never, Augusta,
will I so demean myself? Said Edward support What support

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will Laura want which she can receive from him? Only
those very insignificant ones are victuals and drink? Answered she.
Victuals and drink, replied my husband, in a most nobly
contemptuous manner. And dost thou then imagine that there is
no other support for an exalted mind such as is

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my Laura's than the mean and indelicate employment of eating
and drinking, None that I know of so efficacious, returned Augusta.
And did you then never feel the pleasing pangs of love?
Augusta replied my Edward. Does it appear impossible to your
vile and corrupted pallete to exist on love? Can you

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not conceive the luxury of living in every distress that
poverty can inflict with the object of your tenderest affection?
You are too ridiculous, said Augusta to argue with Perhaps, however,
you may in time be convinced that here I was
prevented from hearing the remainder of her speech by the

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appearance of a very handsome young woman who was ushered
into the room at the door of which I had
been listening. On hearing her announced by the name of
Lady Dorothea, I instantly quitted my post and followed her
into the parlor, for I well remembered that she was
the lady proposed as a wife for my Edward by
the cruel and unrelenting Baronet. Although Lady Dorothea's visit was

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nominally to Philippa and Augusta, yet I have some reason
to imagine that acquainted with the marriage and arrival of
Edward to see me was a principal motive to it.
I soon perceived that, though lovely and elegant in her person,
and though easy and polite in her address, she was
of that inferior order of beings with regard to delicate feeling,

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tender sentiments, and refined sensibility, of which Augusta was one.
She stayed but half an hour, and neither, in the
course of her visit, confided to me any of her
secret thoughts, nor requested me to confide in her any
of mine. You will easily imagine, therefore, my dear mary Anne,

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that I could not feel any ardent, affection or very
sincere attachment for Lady Dorothea. Adieu Laura letter eighth Laura
to Mary Anne. In continuation, Lady Dorothea had not left
us long before another visitor, as unexpected a one as
her ladyship was announced. It was Sir Edward, who, informed

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by Augusta of her brother's marriage, came doubtless to reproach
him for having dared to unite himself to me without
his knowledge. But Edward, for seeing his design, approached him
with heroic fortitude as soon as he entered the room
and addressed him in the following manner, Sir Edward, I
know the motive of your journey here. You come with

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the base design of reproaching me for having entered into
a dissoluble engagement with my Laura without your consent. But Sir,
I glory in the act. It is my greatest boast
that I have incurred the displeasure of my father. So saying,
he took my hand, and whilst Sir Edward, Philippa and
Augusta were doubtless reflecting with admiration on his undaunted bravery,

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led me from the parlor to his father's carriage, which
yet remained at the door, and in which we were
instantly conveyed from the pursuit of Sir Edward. The postilions
had at first received orders only to take the London Road.
As soon as we had sufficiently reflected, however, we ordered
them to drive to Mum, the seat of Edward's most

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particular friend, which was but a few miles distant. At Mum,
we arrived in a few hours, and on sending in
our names, were immediately admitted to Sophia, the wife of
Edward's friend, after having been deprived during the course of
three weeks of a real friend. For such I term
your mother, imagine my transports had beholding one most truly

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worthy of the name. Sophia was rather above the middle size,
most elegantly formed a soft languor spread over her lovely features,
but increased their beauty. It was the characteristic of her mind.
She was all sensibility and feeling. We flew into each
other's arms, and, after having exchanged vows of mutual friendship

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for the rest of our lives, instantly unfolded to each
other the most inward secrets of our hearts. We were
interrupted in the delightful employment by the entrance of Augustus,
Edward's friend, who was just returned from a solitary ramble.
Never did I see such an affecting scene as was
the meeting of Edward and Augustus. My life my soul,

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exclaimed the former, My adorable angel, replied the latter, as
they flew into each other's arms. It was too pathetic
for the feelings of Sophia and myself. We fainted alternately
on a sofa. Adieu Laura. Letter the ninth from the
same to the same Towards the close of day, we

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received the following letter from Philippa. Sir Edward is greatly
incensed by your abrupt departure. He has taken back Augusta
to Bedfordshire. Much as I wish to enjoy again your
child society, I cannot determine to snatch you from that
of such dear and deserving friends. When your visit to
them is terminated, I trust you will return to the

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arms of your Philippa. We returned a suitable answer to
this affectionate note, and, after thanking her for her kind invitation,
assured her that we would certainly avail ourselves of it.
Whenever we might have no other place to go to.
Though certainly nothing could to any reasonable being have appeared
more satisfactory than so grateful a reply to her invitation.

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Yet I know not how it was, but she was
certainly capricious enough to be displeased with our behavior, and
in a few weeks after, either to revenge our conduct
or relieve her own solitude, married a young and illiterate
fortune hunter. This imprudent step, though we were sensible that
it would probably deprive us of that fortune which Philippa

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had ever taught us to expect, could not, on our
own accounts, excite from our exils altered minds a single sigh,
Yet fearful lest it might prove a source of endless
misery to the deluded bride, Our trembling sensibility was greatly
affected when we were first informed of the event. The
affectionate entreaties of Augustus and Sophia that we would forever

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consider their house as our home easily prevailed on us
to determine never more to leave them. In the society
of my Edward and this amiable pair, I passed the
happiest moments of my life. Our time was most delightfully
spent in mutual protestations of friendship and in vows of
unalterable love, in which we were secure from being interrupted

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by intruding and disagreeable visitors. As Augustus and Sophia had,
on their first entrance in the neighborhood, taken due care
to inform the surrounding families that, as their happiness centered
wholly in themselves, they wished for no other society. But
alas my dear Mary Anne, much happiness, as I then enjoyed,

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was too perfect to be lasting, a most severe and
unexpected blow at once destroyed every sensation of pleasure. Convinced,
as you must be from what I have already told
you concerning Augustus and Sophia, that there never were a
happier couple, I need not, i imagine, inform you that
their union had been contrary to the inclinations of their

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cruel and mercenary parents, who had vainly endeavored, with obstinate perseverance,
to force them into a marriage with those whom they
had ever abhorred. But with a heroic fortitude worthy to
be related and admired, they had both constantly refused to
submit to such despotic power. After having so nobly disentangled

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themselves from the shackles of parental authority by a clandestine marriage,
they were determined never to forfeit the good opinion they
had gained in the world in so doing, by accepting
any proposals of reconciliation that might be offered them by
their fathers. To this further trial of their noble independence, However,
they were never exposed. They had been married but a

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few months when our visit to them commenced, during which
time they had been amply supported by a considerable sum
of money, which Augustus had gracefully purloined from his unworthy
father's escritoire. A few days before his union with Sophia.
By our arrival, their expenses were considerably increased, though their
means for supplying them were then nearly exhausted. But they

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exalted creatures, scorned to reflect a moment on their pecuniary distresses,
and would have blushed at the idea of paying their debts,
alas what was their reward for such disinterested behavior. The
beautiful Augustus was arrested, and we were all undone such
perfidious treachery in the merciless perpetrators of the deed will

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shock your gentle nature, dearest mary Anne, as much as
it then affected the delicate sensibility of Edward, Sophia, your Laura,
and of all Augustus himself. To complete such unparalleled barbarity,
we were informed that an execution in the house would
shortly take place. Ah, what could we do? But what

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we did? We sighed and fainted on the sofa Adieu, Laura, Laura.
In continuation, when we were somewhat recovered from the overpowering
effusions of our grief, Edward desired that we would consider
what was the most prudent step to be taken in

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our unhappy situation. While he repaired to his imprisoned friend
to lament over his misfortunes. We promised that we would,
and he set forwards on his journey to town. During
his absence, we faithfully complied with his desire, and, after
the most mature deliberation, at length agreed that the best
thing we could do was to leave the house of

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which we every moment expected the offices of justice to
take possession. We waited, therefore, with the greatest impatience for
the return of Edward in order to impart to him
the result of our deliberations. But no Edward appeared in vain?
Did we count the tedious moments of his absence in vain?

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Did we weep? In vain? Even? Did we sigh? No
Edward returned. This was too cruel, too unexpected, a blow
to our gentle sensibility. We could not support it. We
could only faint at length, collecting all the resolution I
was mistress of. I arose, and, after packing up some

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necessary apparel for Sophia and myself, I dragged her to
a carriage I had ordered, and we instantly set out
for London. As the habitation of Augustus was within twelve
miles of town. It was not long ere we arrived there,
and no sooner had we entered Hoburn than letting down
one of the front glasses. I inquired of every decent

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looking person that we passed if they had seen my Edward.
But as we drove too rapidly to allow them to
answer my repeated inquiries, I gained little, or indeed no
information concerning him. Where am I to drive? Said the
postilion to Newgate? Gentle youth, replied, I to see Augustus? Oh? No, no,

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exclaimed Sophia, I cannot go to Newgate. I shall not
be able to support the sight of my Augustus in
so cruel a confinement. My feelings are sufficiently shocked by
the recital of his distress, but to behold it will
overpower my sensibility. As I perfectly agreed with her in
the justice of her sentiments, the postilion was instantly directed

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to return into the country. You may perhaps have been
somewhat surprised, my dearest Marianne, that in the distress I
then endured, destitute of any support and unprovided with any habitation,
I should never once have remembered my father and mother,
or my paternal cottage in the veil of Usk. To
count for this seeming forgetfulness, I must inform you of

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a trifling circumstance concerning them, which I have as yet
never mentioned. The death of my parents a few weeks
after my departure is the circumstance I allude to. By
their decease, I became the lawful in heer aitress of
their house and fortune, But alas the house had never
been their own, and their fortune had only been an

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annuity on their own lives. Such is the depravity of
the world to your mother. I should have returned with pleasure,
should have been happy to have introduced to her my
charming Sophia, and should with cheerfulness have passed the remainder
of my life in their dear society. In the Vale
of Usk, had not one obstacle to the execution of

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so agreeable a scheme intervened, which was the marriage and
removal of your mother to a distant part of Ireland. Adieu, Laura,
Part two, Letter eleventh Laura. In continuation, I have a

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relation in Scotland, said Sophia to me as we left London,
who I am certain would not hesitate in receiving me.
Shall I order the boy to drive there? Said I,
But instantly recollecting myself, exclaimed, alas I fear it will
be too long a journey for the horses. Unwilling, however,
to act only for my own inadequate knowledge of the

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strengths and abilities of horses, I consulted the postilion, who
was entirely of my opinion concerning the affair. We therefore
determined to change horses at the next town, and to
travel post to the remainder of the journey. When we
arrived at the last inn we were to stop at,
which was but a few miles from the house of
Sophia's relation. Unwilling to intrude our society on him unexpected

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and unthought of, we wrote a very elegant and well
penned note to him, containing an account of our destitute
and melancholy situation, and of our intention to spend some
months with him in Scotland. As soon as we had
despatched this letter, we immediately prepared to follow it in person,
and was stepping into the carriage for that purpose when

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our attention was attracted by the entrance of a coroneted
coach and four into the inn yard. A gentleman considerably
advanced in years, descended from it. At his first appearance,
my sensibility was wonderfully affected, and ere I had gazed
at him a second time, an instinctive sympathy whispered to
my heart that he was my grandfather. Convinced that I

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could not be mistaken in my conjecture, I instantly sprang
from the carriage I had just entered, and, following the
venerable stranger into the room he had been shown to,
I threw myself on my knees before him, and besought
him to acknowledge me as his grandchild. He started, and,
having attentively examined my features, raised me from the ground, and,

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throwing his grandfatherly arms around my neck, exclaimed, acknowledge thee yes,
dear resemblance of my Loreena and Lorena's daughter, sweet image
of my Claudia and my Claudia's mother. I do acknowledge
thee as the daughter of one and the grand daughter
of the other. While he was thus tenderly embracing me, Sophia,
astonished at my precipitate departure, entered the room in search

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of me. No sooner had she caught the eye of
the venerable peer than he exclaimed, with every mark of astonishment,
another grand daughter. Yes, yes, I see you are the
daughter of my Lorena's eldest girl. Your resemblance to the
beauteous Matilda sufficiently proclaims it, Oh, replied Sophia. When I
first beheld you, the instinct of nature whispered me that

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we were in some degree related, But whether grandfathers or
grandmother's I could not pretend to determine. He folded her
in his arms, and whilst they were tenderly embracing. The
door of the apartment opened, and a most beautiful young
man appeared. On perceiving him, Lord Sainclair started and retreating
back a few paces with uplifted hands, said another grandchild,

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What an unexpected happiness is this to discover in the
space of three minutes as many of my descendants. This
I am certain is Falander, the son of my Loreena's
third girl, the amiable Bertha. There wants now but the
presence of Gustavus to complete the union of my Lorena's grandchildren.
And here he is, said a graceful youth, who that

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instant entered the room. Here is the Gustavus you desire
to see. I am the son of Agatha, your Lorena's
fourth and youngest daughter. I see you are, indeed, replied
Lord Sinclair. But tell me, continued he, looking fearfully towards
the door. Tell me have I any other grandchildren in
the house? None, my lord, Then I will provide for

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you all without further delay. Here are four bank notes
of fifty pounds each. Take them, and remember I have
done the duty of a grandfather. He instantly left the room,
and immediately afterwards the house Adieu. Laura letter the twelfth
Laura in continuation, you may imagine how greatly we were

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surprised by the sudden departure of Lord Sainclair Ignoble. Grand Sire,
exclaimed Sophia unworthy Grandfather, said I, and instantly fainted in
each other's arms. How long we remained in this situation
I know not, But when we recovered, we found ourselves alone,
without either Gustavus Phalander or the bank notes. As we

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were deploring our unhappy fate, the door of the apartment
opened and MacDonald was announced. He was Sophia's Cousin the
haste with which he came to our relief so soon
after the receipt of our note, spoke so greatly in
his favor that I hesitated not to pronounce him at
first sight, a tender and sympathetic friend, alas he little

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deserved the name, for though he told us that he
was much concerned at our misfortunes, yet by his own
account it appeared that the perusal of them had neither
drawn from him a single sigh nor induced him to
bestow one curse on our vindictive stars. He told Sophia
that his daughter depended on her returning with him to
McDonald Hall, and that as his cousin's friend, he should

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be happy to see me there also to McDonald Hall.
Therefore we went and were received with great kindness by Janetta,
the daughter of mc donald and the mistress of the mansion.
Jeannetta was then only fifteen, naturally well disposed, endowed with
a susceptible heart and a sympathetic disposition. She might, had

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these amiable qualities been properly encouraged, have been an ornament
to human nature. But unfortunately her father possessed not a
soul sufficiently exalted to admire so promising a disposition, and
had endeavored by every means on his power to prove
re entered. Increasing with her years, He had actually so
far extinguished the natural noble sensibility of her heart as

(34:08):
to prevail on her to accept an offer from a
young man of his recommendation. They were to be married
in a few months, and Graham was in the house
when we arrived. We soon saw through his character he
was just such a man as one might have expected
to be the choice of MacDonald. They said, he was sensible,
well informed, and agreeable. We did not pretend to judge

(34:30):
of such trifles. But as we were convinced he had
no soul, that he had never read the sorrows of weather,
and that his hair born not the least resemblance to auburn,
we were certain that Janetta could feel no affection for him,
or at least that she ought to feel none. The
very circumstance of his being her father's choice, too, was
so much in his disfavor that, had he been deserving

(34:53):
her in every other respect, yet that of itself ought
to have been a sufficient reason in the eye of
Janetta for rejecting him. These considerations we were determined to
represent to her in their proper light, and doubted not
of meeting with the desired success from one naturally so
well disposed, whose errors in the affair had only arisen

(35:15):
from a want of proper confidence in her own opinion
and a suitable contempt of her father's. We found her, indeed,
all that our warmest wishes could have hoped for. We
had no difficulty to convince her that it was impossible
she could love Graham, or that it was her duty
to disobey her father. The only thing at which she
rather seemed to hesitate was our assertion that she must

(35:37):
be attached to some other person. For some time, she
persevered in declaring that she knew no other young man
for whom she had the smallest affection. But on explaining
the impossibility of such a thing, she said that she
believed she did like Captain mc kenry better than any
one she knew. Besides, this confession satisfied us, and after

(35:59):
having an mumerated the good qualities of mc kenry and
assured her that she was violently in love with him,
we desired to know whether he had in any wise
declared his affection to her. So far from having ever
declared it, I have no reason to imagine that he
has ever felt any for me, said Janetta. That he
certainly adores you, replied Sophia, there can be no doubt

(36:23):
the attachment must be reciprocal. Did he never gaze on
you with admiration, tenderly press your hand, drop an involuntary tear,
and leave the room abruptly? Never, replied she that I
remember he has always left the room, indeed when his
visit has been ended, but has never gone away particularly
abruptly or without making a bow. Indeed, my love, said

(36:47):
I you must be mistaken, for it is absolutely impossible
that he should ever have left you. But with confusion, despair,
and precipitation, consider but for a moment, Janetta, and you
must be convey hint, how absurd it is to suppose
that he can ever make a bow or behave like
any other person. Having settled this point to our satisfaction,

(37:09):
the next we took into consideration was to determine what
manner we should inform mckenry of the favorable opinion Jeannetta
entertained of him. We at length agreed to acquaint him
with it by an anonymous letter, which Sophia drew up
in the following manner, Oh, happy lover of the beautiful Janetta, Oh,
amiable possessor of her heart, whose hand is destined to another,

(37:32):
Why do you thus delay a confession of your attachment
to the amiable object of it? Oh? Consider that a
few weeks will at once put an end to every
flattering hope that you may now entertain by uniting the
unfortunate victim of her father's cruelty to the execrable and
detested Graham. Alas, why do you thus so cruelly connive

(37:54):
at the projected misery of her and of yourself. By
delaying to communicate that scheme, which had doubtless long possessed
your imagination, a secret union will at once secure the
felicity of both the amiable mcgnery, whose modesty, as he
afterwards assured us, had been the only reason of his
having so long concealed the violence of his affection for Janetta.

(38:17):
On receiving this billet, flew on the wings of love
to MacDonald Hall, and so powerfully pleaded his attachment to her,
who inspired it that, after a few more private interviews,
Sofia and I experienced the satisfaction of seeing them depart
for Gretna Green, which they chose for the celebration of
their nuptials in preference to any other place, although it

(38:38):
was at a considerable distance from mc donald Hall. Adieu,
Laura Letter the thirteenth Laura, in continuation, They had been
gone nearly a couple of hours before either MacDonald or
Graham had entertained any suspicion of the affair, and they

(38:58):
might not even then have suspected it but for the
following little accident, Sophia happening one day to open a
private drawer in MacDonald's library, with one of her own keys,
discovered that it was the place where he kept his
papers of consequence, and amongst them some bank notes of
considerable amount. This discovery she imparted to me, and, having

(39:20):
agreed together that it would be a proper treatment of
so vile a wretch as McDonald to deprive him of money,
perhaps dishonestly gained, it was determined that the next time
we should either of us happen to go that way,
we would take one or more of the bank notes
from the drawer. This well meant plan we had often
successfully put in execution, but alas on the very day

(39:43):
of Janetta's escape, as Sophia was majestically removing the fifth
bank note from the drawer to her own purse, she
was most impertinently interrupted in her employment by the entrance
of McDonald himself in a most abrupt and precipitate manner. Sophia,
who though naturally all winning sweetness, could, when occasions demanded it,

(40:03):
call forth the dignity of her sex, instantly put on
a most forbidding look, and darting an angry frown on
the undaunted culprit demanded in a haughty tone of voice.
Wherefore her retirement was thus insolently broken in on the
unblushing MacDonald, without even endeavoring to exculpate himself from the
crime he was charged with, meanly endeavored to reproach Sophia

(40:27):
with ignobly defrauding him of his money. The dignity of
Sophia was wounded, wretch, exclaimed, she hastily replacing the banknote
in the drawer. How dareest thou to accuse me of
an act of which the bare idea makes me blush?
The base wretch was still unconvinced, and continued to upbraid

(40:47):
the justly offended Sophia in such approbrious language that at
length he so greatly provoked the gentle sweetness of her
nature as to induce her to revenge herself on him
by informing him of Jeanetta's elopement and of the active
part we had both taken in the affair. At this
period of their quarrel. I entered the library, and was,

(41:08):
as you may imagine, equally offended as Sophia at the
ill grounded accusations of the malevolent and contemptible mac Donald.
Base miscreant cried, I how canst thou thus undauntedly endeavor
to sully the spotless reputation of such bright excellence. Why
dost thou not suspect my innocence? As soon be satisfied

(41:28):
Madam replied he, I do suspect it, and therefore must
desire that you will both leave this house in less
than half an hour. We shall go willingly, answered Sophia.
Our hearts have long detested thee, and nothing but our
friendship for thy daughter could have induced us to remain
so long beneath thy roof. Your friendship for my daughter

(41:50):
has indeed been most powerfully exerted by throwing her into
the arms of an unprincipled fortune. Hunter replied he, yes,
exclaimed I amidst every misfortune, it will afford us some
consolation to reflect that, by this one act of friendship
to Janetta we have amply discharged every obligation that we
have received from her father. It must indeed be a

(42:13):
grateful reflection to your exalted minds, said he. As soon
as we had packed up our wardrobe and valuables, we
left mac donald Hall, and after having walked about a
mile and a half, we sat down by the side
of a clear, limpid stream to refresh our exhausted limbs.
The place was suited to meditation. A grove of full

(42:34):
grown elms sheltered us from the east, a bed of
full grown nettles from the west. Before us ran the
Murmuring Brook, and behind us ran the Turnpike Road. We
were in a mood for contemplation and in a disposition
to enjoy so beautiful a spot. A mutual silence which
had for some time reigned between us, was at length

(42:56):
broke by my exclaiming, what a lovely scene. Alas, why
are not Edward and Augustus here to enjoy its beauties
with us? Ah, my beloved Laura, cried Sophia, for pity's sake, forbear,
recalling to my remembrance the unhappy situation of my imprisoned husband. Alas,
what would I not give to learn the fate of

(43:18):
my Augustus, to know if he is still in Newgate,
or if he is yet hung? But never shall I
be able so far to conquer my tender sensibility as
to inquire after him. Oh, do not I beseech you ever?
Let me again? Hear you repeat his beloved name. It
affects me too deeply. I cannot bear to hear him mentioned.

(43:38):
It wounds my feelings. Excuse me, my Sophia, for having
thus unwillingly offended, you replied I, and then, changing the conversation,
desired her to admire the noble grandeur of the elms
which sheltered us from the Eastern zephyr Alas. My Laura returned,
She avoid so melancholy a subject I entreat you do

(44:01):
not again wound my sensibility by observations on those elms.
They remind me of Augustus. He was like them, tall, majestic.
He possessed that noble grandeur which you admire in them.
I was silent, fearful lest I might any more unwillingly
distress her by fixing on any other subject of conversation

(44:22):
which might again remind her of Augustus. Why do you
not speak, my Laura, said she, after a short pause.
I cannot support this silence. You must not leave me
to my own reflections. They ever recur to Augustus. What
a beautiful sky? Said I. How charmingly is the azure
varied by those delicate streaks of white? Oh, my Laura replied,

(44:47):
She hastily withdrawing her eyes from a momentary glance at
the sky. Do not thus distress me by calling my
attention to an object which so cruelly reminds me of
my Augustus's blue satin waistcoat. To striped him in pity
to your unhappy friend. Avoid a subject so distressing. What
could I do? The feelings of Sophia were at that

(45:10):
time so exquisite, and the tenderness she felt for Augustus
so poignant, that I had not power to start any
other topic, justly fearing that it might, in some unforeseen
manner again awaken all her sensibility by directing her thoughts
to her husband. Yet to be silent would be cruel.
She had entreated me to talk. From this dilemma, I

(45:32):
was most fortunately relieved by an accident truly apropos It
was the lucky overturning of a gentleman's fight on on
the road, which ran murmuring behind us. It was a
most fortunate accident, as it diverted the attention of Sophia
from the melancholy reflections which she had been before indulging.
We instantly quitted our seats and ran to the rescue

(45:55):
of those who, but a few moments before, had been
in so elevated a situation as a fashionably high fight on,
but who were now laid low and sprawling in the dust.
What an ample subject for reflection on the uncertain enjoyments
of this world? Would not that fight on and the
life of Cardinal Wolsey afford? A thinking mind, said I

(46:15):
to Sophia, as we were hastening to the field of action.
She had not time to answer me, for every thought
was now engaged by the horrid spectacle before us. Two gentlemen,
most elegantly attired, but weltering in their blood was what
first struck our eyes we approached. They were Edward and Augustus. Yes,

(46:37):
dearest mari Anne, they were our husbands. Sophia shrieked and
fainted on the ground. I screamed and instantly ran mad.
We remained thus mutually deprived of our senses some minutes,
and on regaining them, were deprived of them again for
an hour and a quarter. Did we continue in this

(46:57):
unfortunate situation, sophiating every moment, and I running mad, as
often at length. A groan from the hapless Edward, who
alone retained any share of life restored us to ourselves.
Had we indeed before imagined that either of them lived,
we should have been more sparing of our grief. But

(47:19):
as we had supposed when we first beheld them, that
they were no more, we knew that nothing could remain
to be done. But what we were about no sooner
did we therefore hear my Edward's groan. Than postponing our
lamentations for the present, we hastily ran to the dear youth, and,
kneeling on each side of him, implored him not to die. Laura, said, he,

(47:41):
fixing his now languid eyes on me. I fear I
have been overturned. I was overjoyed to find him yet sensible.
Oh tell me, Edward said, I tell me. I beseech
you before you die. What has befallen you since that
unhappy day in which Augustus was arrested and we were separated?

(48:01):
I will, said he, and, instantly, fetching a deep sigh, expired.
Sofia immediately sank again into a swoon. My grief was
more audible, my voice faltered, my eyes assumed a vacant stare,
my face became as pale as death, and my senses
were considerably impaired. Talk not to me of phytons, said I,

(48:26):
raving in a frantic, incoherent manner. Give me a violin.
I'll play to him and soothe him in his melancholy hours. Beware, ye,
gentle nymphs of Cupid's thunderbolts, avoid the piercing shafts of Jupiter.
Look at that grove of firs, I see a leg
of mutton. They told me Edward was not dead, but
they deceived me. They took him for a cucumber. Thus

(48:49):
I continued wildly, exclaiming on my Edward's death. For two hours?
Did I rave thus madly? And should not then have
left off? As I was not in the least fatigued.
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?

(49:10):
Said I, to shelter us from either to that white cottage,
replied she, pointing to a neat building which 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,

(49:31):
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

(49:55):
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,

(50:23):
Part three Letter the fourteenth Laura. In continuation, arm yourself,
my amiable young friend, with all the philosophy you are
a 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

(50:47):
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, and
my mother and my husband, though almost more more than
my gentle nature could support, were trifles in comparison to
the misfortune I am now proceeding to relate. The morning

(51:09):
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 otherwise be accounted for

(51:29):
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 effectively 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

(51:53):
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

(52:15):
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

(52:38):
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 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

(53:02):
at the time they may be refreshing and agreeable, Yet
believe me, they will in the end, if too often repeated,
and at in proper 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.

(53:24):
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

(53:47):
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

(54:08):
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 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 travelers. I
could only perceive that they were many. Regardless, however, of

(54:32):
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

(54:52):
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 travelers at length. Returning day enabled me

(55:15):
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

(55:38):
increased when on looking out of windows, I beheld the
husband of Philippa, with Philippa by his side, on the
coach box, and when on looking behind I beheld Philander
and Gustavs 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

(56:02):
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 last
we parted in the Veil of Usk, I was happy
in being united to the best of Edward's I had

(56:25):
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 insensible Nymph
replied I that, luckless Swain, your brother is no more,

(56:47):
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 her and Sir Edward's
entreaties that I would inform them of the whole melancholy affair.
They were greatly shocked. Even the obdurate heart of Sir

(57:09):
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

(57:31):
our visit to MacDonald Hall, of the singular service we
there performed towards Jennetta, of her father's ingratitude for it,
of his inhuman behavior, 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

(57:51):
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

(58:15):
during the whole course of my late misfortunes and adventures.
She pretended to find fault with my behavior 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 honor 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

(58:38):
came there, instead of wounding my spotless reputation with unjustifiable reproaches.
As soon as she had complied with my wishes in
this particular and had given me an accurate detail of
everything that had befallen her since our separation, the particulars
of which, if you were not already acquainted with your mother,
will give you, I applied to Augusta for the same information.

(59:00):
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 wonderful 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

(59:22):
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 inquiries
were concerning Philippa and her husband, the latter of whom

(59:44):
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 everything 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

(01:00:06):
Sterling every other day. That Philippa, still retaining her affection
for her ungrateful 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 traveled in their
coach to view the beauties of the country since our

(01:00:26):
arrival in Scotland. For it would certainly have been much
more agreeable to us to visit the Highlands in a
post chaise 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

(01:00:46):
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 behavior, however, was
entirely of a piece 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 sympathy,
and who actually snored Adieu Laura Letter the fifteenth Laura

(01:01:16):
in continuation. When we arrived at the town where we
were to breakfast, I was determined to speak with Fialander
and Gustavus, and to that purpose, as soon as I
left the carriage, I went to the basket and tenderly
inquired after their health, expressing my fears of the uneasiness
of their situation. At first, they seemed rather confused at

(01:01:37):
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

(01:01:58):
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 everything 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

(01:02:20):
two youngest daughters which Lord Saint Clair had by Lorena,
an Italian opera girl, our mothers could neither of them
exactly ascertain who were our father, though it is generally
believed that Filander 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,

(01:02:41):
for as our mothers were certainly never married to either
of them, it reflects no dishonor on our blood, which
is of a most ancient and unpolluted kind. Bertha, the
mother of Falander, and Agatha, my own mother, always lived together.
They were neither of them very rich. Their united fortunes
had a richer amounted to nine thousand pounds, but as

(01:03:03):
they had always lived on the principle 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 parlor,
for the convenience of having it always at hand. Whether
it was from this circumstance of its being easily taken,
or from a wish of being independent, or from an

(01:03:25):
excess of sensibility for which we were always remarkable, I
cannot now determine. But certain it is that when we
had reached our fifteenth year, we took the nine hundred
pounds and ran away. Having obtained this prize, we were
determined to manage it with economy, and not to spend
it with either folly or extravagance. To this purpose, we

(01:03:47):
therefore divided it into nine parcels, one of which we
devoted to victuals, the second to drink, the third to housekeeping,
the fourth to carriages, the fifth to horses, the sixth
to servants, the seventh to amuse, the eighth to clothes,
and the ninth to silver buckles. Having thus arranged our
expenses for two months, for we expected to make the

(01:04:09):
nine hundred pounds last as long we hastened to London,
and had the good luck to spend it in seven
weeks in a day, which was six days sooner than
we had intended. As soon as we had thus happily
disencumbered ourselves from the weight of so much money, we
began to think of returning to our mothers, but, accidentally
hearing that they were both starved to death, we gave

(01:04:30):
over the design and determined to engage ourselves to some
strolling company of players, as we had always had a
turn for the stage. Accordingly, we offered our services to
one and were accepted. Our company was indeed rather small,
as it consisted only of the manager, his wife, and ourselves,
but there were fewer to pay, and the only inconvenience

(01:04:52):
attending it was a scarcity of plays, which, for want
of people to fill the characters, we could perform. We
did not mind trifles. However, One of our most admired
performances was Macbeth, in which we were truly great. The
manager always played banquet himself, his wife my Lady Macbeth,
I did the three witches, and Philander acted all the rest.

(01:05:15):
To say the truth, his tragedy was not only the best,
but the only play that we ever performed, And after
having acted it all over England and Wales, we came
to Scotland to exhibit it over the remainder of Great Britain.
We happened to be quartered in that very town where
you came and met your grandfather. We were in the
inn yard when his carriage entered, and perceiving by the

(01:05:37):
arms to whom it belonged, and knowing that Lord Saint
Clair was our grandfather, we agreed to endeavor to get
something from him by discovering the relationship. You know how
well it succeeded. Having obtained the two hundred pounds, we
instantly left the town, leaving our manager and his wife
to act Macbeth by themselves, and took the road to Sterling,

(01:05:58):
where we spent our little fortune with greater class. We
are now returning to Edinburgh in order to get some
preferment in the acting way. And such, my dear cousin,
is our history. I thanked the amiable youth for his
entertaining narration, and, after expressing my wishes for their welfare
and happiness, left them in their little habitation, and returned

(01:06:21):
to my other friends, who impatiently expected me. My adventures
are now drawing to a close, my dearest Marie Anne,
at least for the present. When we arrived at Edinburgh,
Sir Edward told me that, as the widow of his son,
he desired I would accept from his hands of four
hundred a year. I graciously promised that I would, but

(01:06:42):
could not help observing that the unsympathetic baronet offered it
more on account of my being the widow of Edward
than in being the refined and amiable Laura. I took
up my residence in a romantic village in the highlands
of Scotland, where I have ever since continued, and where
I can, and interrupted by unmeaning visits, indulge in a

(01:07:03):
melancholy solitude, my unceasing lamentations for the death of my father,
my mother, my husband, and my friend. Augusta has been
for several years united a Graham, the man of all
others most suited to her. She became acquainted with him
during her stay in Scotland. Sir Edward, in hopes of

(01:07:23):
gaining an heir to his title and estate, at the
same time married Lady Dorothea. His wishes have been answered.
Philander and Gustavis, after having raised their reputation by their
performances in the theatrical line at Edinburgh, removed a Covent garden,
where they still exhibit under the assumed names of Levis

(01:07:43):
and Quick. Philippa has long paid the debt of nature.
Her husband, however, still continues to drive the stage coach
from Edinburgh to Stirling. Adieu my Dearest Mary Anne Laura
June thirteenth, seventeen ninety End of Part three and End

(01:08:06):
of Love and Friendship by Jane Austen. The music included
in this recording is from Schubert's Fantasy in C major,
played by Daniel Blanche, available from musopen dot org m
U s O p e N dot O r G