LETTER 3rd
LAURA to MARIANNE
As the Daughter of my most intimate freind I think you entitled to that
knowledge of my unhappy story, which your Mother has so often solicited
me to give you.
My Father 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 was situated in one of the most
romantic parts of the Vale of Uske. Tho’ 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. When in the Convent, my progress had always
exceeded my instructions, my Acquirements had been wonderfull for my
age, and I had shortly surpassed my Masters.
In my Mind, every Virtue that could adorn it was centered; it was the
Rendez-vous of every good Quality and of every noble sentiment.
A sensibility too tremblingly alive to every affliction of my Freinds,
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! Tho’
indeed my own Misfortunes do not make less impression on me than they
ever did, yet now I never feel for those of an other. My
accomplishments too, begin to fade—I can neither sing so well nor Dance
so gracefully as I once did—and I have entirely forgot the _Minuet Dela
Cour_.
Adeiu.
Laura.
LETTER 4th
LAURA to MARIANNE
Our neighbourhood was small, 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 eoconomical
motives. There it was our freindship first commenced. Isobel was then
one and twenty. Tho’ pleasing both in her Person and Manners (between
ourselves) she never possessed the hundredth part of my Beauty or
Accomplishments. Isabel had seen the World. She had passed 2 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 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 of Bath, or the stinking Fish of
Southampton? I who am doomed to waste my Days of Youth and Beauty in an
humble Cottage in the Vale of Uske.”
Ah! little did I then think I was ordained so soon to quit that humble
Cottage for the Deceitfull Pleasures of the World.
Adeiu.
Laura.
LETTER 5th
LAURA to MARIANNE
One Evening in December as my Father, my Mother and myself, were
arranged in social converse round our Fireside, 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 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 not pretend to determine
on what motive the person may knock—tho’ that someone _does_ rap at the
door, I am partly convinced.”
Here, a 2d 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.” (replied I.) “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.) “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’m 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 Servant were at the door,
who had lossed 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.)
Mary, without waiting for any further commands 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 that on him the happiness or Misery of my future Life
must depend.
Adeiu.
Laura.
LETTER 6th
LAURA to MARIANNE
The noble Youth informed us that his name was Lindsay—for particular
reasons however I shall conceal it under that 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 freinds as this Dear Party that I would thus betray his
failings. Your Virtues my amiable Polydore (addressing himself to 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 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; 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? You 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 forth for my Aunts.”
“My Father’s house is situated in Bedfordshire, my Aunt’s in Middlesex,
and tho’ I flatter myself with being a tolerable proficient in
Geography, I know not how it happened, but I found myself entering this
beautifull Vale which I find is in South Wales, when I had expected to
have reached my Aunts.”
“After having wandered some time on the Banks of the Uske 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 thro’ the solemn Gloom
that surrounded me a distant light, which as I approached it, I
discovered to be the chearfull Blaze of your fire. Impelled by the
combination of Misfortunes under which I laboured, namely Fear, Cold
and Hunger I hesitated not to ask admittance which at length I have
gained; and now my Adorable Laura (continued he taking my Hand) when
may I hope to receive that reward of all the painfull 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.” (replied I.). We were
immediately united by my Father, who tho’ he had never taken orders had
been bred to the Church.
Adeiu.
Laura.
LETTER 7th
LAURA to MARIANNE
We remained but a few days after our Marriage, in the Vale of Uske.
After 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 agreable surprise to her as she had not only been
totally ignorant of my Marriage with her Nephew, 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 was a disagreable coldness and
Forbidding Reserve in her reception of me which was equally distressing
and Unexpected. None of that interesting Sensibility or amiable
simpathy 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 nor cordial; her arms were not opened to receive me to
her Heart, tho’ my own were extended to press her to mine.
A short Conversation between Augusta and her Brother, which I
accidentally overheard encreased 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 of Freindship.
“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. Tell me Augusta with sincerity; did you
ever know me consult his inclinations or follow his Advice in the least
trifling Particular since the age of fifteen?”
“Edward (replied she) you are surely too diffident in your own praise.
Since you were fifteen only! My Dear Brother since you were 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 will Laura want which she can receive from him?”
“Only those very insignificant ones of 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 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 Palate, to exist on Love? Can you 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
appearance of a very Handsome young Woman, who was ushured 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 Parlour, for I well remembered that she was
the Lady, proposed as a Wife for my Edward by the Cruel and Unrelenting
Baronet.
Altho’ Lady Dorothea’s visit was 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 tho’ Lovely and Elegant in her Person and tho’
Easy and Polite in her Address, she was of that inferior order of
Beings with regard to Delicate Feeling, tender Sentiments, and refined
Sensibility, of which Augusta was one.
She staid 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 Marianne
that I could not feel any ardent affection or very sincere Attachment
for Lady Dorothea.
Adeiu.
Laura.
LETTER 8th
LAURA to MARIANNE, 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
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 foreseeing 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 the
base Design of reproaching me for having entered into an indissoluble
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, led
me from the Parlour 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 M——. the seat of Edward’s most particular freind, which was
but a few miles distant.
At M——. we arrived in a few hours; and on sending in our names were
immediately admitted to Sophia, the Wife of Edward’s freind. After
having been deprived during the course of 3 weeks of a real freind (for
such I term your Mother) imagine my transports at beholding one, most
truly 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 Charectarestic of her Mind—. She
was all sensibility and Feeling. We flew into each others arms and
after having exchanged vows of mutual Freindship for the rest of our
Lives, instantly unfolded to each other the most inward secrets of our
Hearts—. We were interrupted in the delightfull Employment by the
entrance of Augustus, (Edward’s freind) 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!” (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.
Adeiu
Laura.
LETTER the 9th
From the same to the same
Towards the close of the day we 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
charming society, I cannot determine to snatch you from that, of such
dear and deserving Freinds—When your Visit to them is terminated, I
trust you will return to the 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. Tho’ certainly nothing could to any reasonable Being, have
appeared more satisfactory, than so gratefull a reply to her
invitation, yet I know not how it was, but she was certainly capricious
enough to be displeased with our behaviour and in a few weeks after,
either to revenge our Conduct, or releive her own solitude, married a
young and illiterate Fortune-hunter. This imprudent step (tho’ we were
sensible that it would probably deprive us of that fortune which
Philippa had ever taught us to expect) could not on our own accounts,
excite from our exalted minds a single sigh; yet fearfull 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
for ever 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 Freindship, and
in vows of unalterable Love, in which we were secure from being
interrupted, by intruding and disagreable Visitors, as Augustus and
Sophia had on their first Entrance in the Neighbourhood, 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 Marianne such Happiness as I then enjoyed 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 Cruel and Mercenery Parents;
who had vainly endeavoured 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 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 farther tryal of their noble
independance however they never were exposed.
They had been married but a 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 encreased tho’ their
means for supplying them were then nearly exhausted. But they, 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 Behaviour! The beautifull
Augustus was arrested and we were all undone. Such perfidious Treachery
in the merciless perpetrators of the Deed will shock your gentle nature
Dearest Marianne as much as it then affected the Delicate sensibility
of Edward, Sophia, your Laura, and of Augustus himself. To compleat
such unparalelled Barbarity we were informed that an Execution in the
House would shortly take place. Ah! what could we do but what we did!
We sighed and fainted on the sofa.
Adeiu
Laura.
LETTER 10th
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 our unhappy situation while he repaired to his
imprisoned freind 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 which we every moment expected the officers 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 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 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 e’er we arrived there, and no
sooner had we entered Holboun than letting down one of the Front
Glasses I enquired of every decent-looking Person that we passed “If
they had seen my Edward?”
But as we drove too rapidly to allow them to answer my repeated
Enquiries, 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, (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 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 Vale of
Uske. To account for this seeming forgetfullness I must inform you of 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 lawfull
Inheritress of their House and Fortune. But alas! the House had never
been their own and their Fortune had only been an 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 Chearfullness have passed the
remainder of my Life in their dear Society in the Vale of Uske, had not
one obstacle to the execution of so agreable a scheme, intervened;
which was the Marriage and Removal of your Mother to a distant part of
Ireland.
Adeiu.
Laura.
LETTER 11th
LAURA in continuation
“I have a 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 from my own inadequate Knowledge of the
Strength 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 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 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 dispatched this Letter,
we immediately prepared to follow it in person and were stepping into
the Carriage for that Purpose when our attention was attracted by the
Entrance of a coroneted Coach and 4 into the Inn-yard. A Gentleman
considerably advanced in years descended from it. At his first
Appearance my Sensibility was wonderfully affected and e’er I had gazed
at him a 2d time, an instinctive sympathy whispered to my Heart, that
he was my Grandfather. Convinced that I 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 shewn to, I
threw myself on my knees before him and besought him to acknowledge me
as his Grand Child. He started, and having attentively examined my
features, raised me from the Ground and throwing his Grandfatherly
arms around my Neck, exclaimed, “Acknowledge thee! Yes dear resemblance
of my Laurina and Laurina’s Daughter, sweet image of my Claudia and my
Claudia’s Mother, I do acknowledge thee as the Daughter of the one and
the Grandaughter of the other.” While he was thus tenderly embracing
me, Sophia astonished at my precipitate Departure, entered the Room in
search of me. No sooner had she caught the eye of the venerable Peer,
than he exclaimed with every mark of Astonishment—“Another
Grandaughter! Yes, yes, I see you are the Daughter of my Laurina’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 we were in some degree related—But
whether Grandfathers, or Grandmothers, 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 beautifull young
Man appeared. On perceiving him Lord St. Clair started and retreating
back a few paces, with uplifted Hands, said, “Another Grand-child! What
an unexpected Happiness is this! to discover in the space of 3 minutes,
as many of my Descendants! This I am certain is Philander the son of my
Laurina’s 3d girl the amiable Bertha; there wants now but the presence
of Gustavus to compleat the Union of my Laurina’s Grand-Children.”
“And here he is; (said a Gracefull Youth who that instant entered the
room) here is the Gustavus you desire to see. I am the son of Agatha
your Laurina’s 4th and youngest Daughter,” “I see you are indeed;
replied Lord St. Clair—But tell me (continued he looking fearfully
towards the Door) tell me, have I any other Grand-children in the
House.” “None my Lord.” “Then I will provide for you all without
farther delay—Here are 4 Banknotes of 50£ each—Take them and remember I
have done the Duty of a Grandfather.” He instantly left the Room and
immediately afterwards the House.
Adeiu.
Laura.
LETTER the 12th
LAURA in continuation
You may imagine how greatly we were surprised by the sudden departure
of Lord St Clair. “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, Philander, or the
Banknotes. As we 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 releif so soon after the receipt of
our Note, spoke so greatly in his favour that I hesitated not to
pronounce him at first sight, a tender and simpathetic Freind. Alas! he
little 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
Macdonald-Hall, and that as his Cousin’s freind he should be happy to
see me there also. To Macdonald-Hall, therefore we went, and were
received with great kindness by Janetta the Daughter of Macdonald, and
the Mistress of the Mansion. Janetta was then only fifteen; naturally
well disposed, endowed with a susceptible Heart, and a simpathetic
Disposition, she might, had 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 endeavoured by every means on his
power to prevent it encreasing with her Years. He had actually so far
extinguished the natural noble Sensibility of her Heart, as 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 Agreable; we did not pretend to Judge
of such trifles, but as we were convinced he had no soul, that he had
never read the sorrows of Werter, and that his Hair bore 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
disfavour, that had he been deserving her, in every other respect yet
_that_ of itself ought to have been a sufficient reason in the Eyes 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 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
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 the
smallest Affection; but upon explaining the impossibility of such a
thing she said that she beleived she _did like_ Captain M’Kenrie better
than any one she knew besides. This confession satisfied us and after
having enumerated the good Qualities of M’Kenrie and assured her that
she was violently in love with him, we desired to know whether he had
ever 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—. The Attachment must be
reciprocal. Did he never gaze on you with admiration—tenderly press
your hand—drop an involantary 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 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 convinced how absurd it is to suppose
that he could ever make a Bow, or behave like any other Person.” Having
settled this Point to our satisfaction, the next we took into
consideration was, to determine in what manner we should inform
M’Kenrie of the favourable Opinion Janetta 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 beautifull Janetta, oh! amiable Possessor of
_her_ Heart whose hand is destined to another, 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 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 M’Kenrie, 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, 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 interveiws, Sophia
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 was at a considerable
distance from Macdonald-Hall.
Adeiu
Laura.
LETTER the 13th
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 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 agreed together that it would be a proper treatment of so vile a
Wretch as Macdonald 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 of Janetta’s Escape, as Sophia was
majestically removing the 5th Bank-note from the Drawer to her own
purse, she was suddenly most impertinently interrupted in her
employment by the entrance of Macdonald himself, in a most abrupt and
precipitate Manner. Sophia (who though naturally all winning sweetness
could when occasions demanded it 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 endeavouring to exculpate himself from the
crime he was charged with, meanly endeavoured to reproach Sophia with
ignobly defrauding him of his money... The dignity of Sophia was
wounded; “Wretch (exclaimed she, hastily replacing the Bank-note in the
Drawer) how darest 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 the justly-offended Sophia in such opprobious 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 Janetta’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 as you may
imagine equally offended as Sophia at the ill-grounded accusations of
the malevolent and contemptible Macdonald. “Base Miscreant! (cried I)
how canst thou thus undauntedly endeavour to sully the spotless
reputation of such bright Excellence? Why dost thou not suspect _my_
innocence as soon?” “Be satisfied 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 freindship for thy Daughter could have
induced us to remain so long beneath thy roof.”
“Your Freindship for my Daughter 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 Freindship to Janetta,
we have amply discharged every obligation that we have received from
her father.”
“It must indeed be a most gratefull reflection, to your exalted minds.”
(said he.)
As soon as we had packed up our wardrobe and valuables, we left
Macdonald Hall, and after having walked about a mile and a half we sate
down by the side of a clear limpid stream to refresh our exhausted
limbs. The place was suited to meditation. A grove of full-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
turn-pike road. We were in a mood for contemplation and in a
Disposition to enjoy so beautifull a spot. A mutual silence which had
for some time reigned between us, was at length 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 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 enquire 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 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 intreat you.
Do not again wound my Sensibility by observations on those elms. They
remind me of Augustus. He was like them, tall, magestic—he possessed
that noble grandeur which you admire in them.”
I was silent, fearfull lest I might any more unwillingly distress her
by fixing on any other subject of conversation 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 beautifull sky! (said I) How charmingly is the azure varied by
those delicate streaks of white!”
“Oh! my Laura (replied 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 sattin waistcoat striped in white! In pity to your unhappy freind
avoid a subject so distressing.” What could I do? The feelings of
Sophia were at that 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 unforseen manner again awaken all
her sensibility by directing her thoughts to her Husband. Yet to be
silent would be cruel; she had intreated me to talk.
From this Dilemma I was most fortunately releived by an accident truly
apropos; it was the lucky overturning of a Gentleman’s Phaeton, 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 of those who but a few moments before had been in so
elevated a situation as a fashionably high Phaeton, 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
Phaeton and the Life of Cardinal Wolsey afford a thinking Mind!” said I
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 dearest Marianne they
were our Husbands. Sophia shreiked 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 unfortunate
situation—Sophia fainting 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 Greif—but
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
fixing his now languid Eyes on me) I fear I have been overturned.”