Love and Freindship [sic]
the case; since how could it be otherwise accounted for that I should
have escaped the same indisposition, but by supposing that the bodily
Exertions I had undergone in my repeated fits of frenzy had so
effectually circulated and warmed my Blood as to make me proof against
the chilling Damps of Night, whereas, Sophia lying totally inactive on
the ground must have been exposed to all their severity. I was most
seriously alarmed by her illness which trifling as it may appear to
you, a certain instinctive sensibility whispered me, would in the End
be fatal to her.
Alas! my fears were but too fully justified; she grew gradually
worse—and I daily became more alarmed for her. At length she was
obliged to confine herself solely to the Bed allotted us by our worthy
Landlady—. Her disorder turned to a galloping Consumption and in a few
days carried her off. Amidst all my Lamentations for her (and violent
you may suppose they were) I yet received some consolation in the
reflection of my having paid every attention to her, that could be
offered, in her illness. I had wept over her every Day—had bathed her
sweet face with my tears and had pressed her fair Hands continually in
mine—. “My beloved Laura (said she to me a few Hours before she died)
take warning from my unhappy End and avoid the imprudent conduct which
had occasioned it... Beware of fainting-fits... Though at the time they
may be refreshing and agreable yet beleive me they will in the end, if
too often repeated and at improper seasons, prove destructive to your
Constitution... My fate will teach you this.. I die a Martyr to my
greif for the loss of Augustus.. One fatal swoon has cost me my Life..
Beware of swoons Dear Laura.... A frenzy fit is not one quarter so
pernicious; it is an exercise to the Body and if not too violent, is I
dare say conducive to Health in its consequences—Run mad as often as
you chuse; but do not faint—”
These were the last words she ever addressed to me.. It was her dieing
Advice to her afflicted Laura, who has ever most faithfully adhered to
it.
After having attended my lamented freind to her Early Grave, I
immediately (tho’ late at night) left the detested Village in which she
died, and near which had expired my Husband and Augustus. I had not
walked many yards from it before I was overtaken by a stage-coach, in
which I instantly took a place, determined to proceed in it to
Edinburgh, where I hoped to find some kind some pitying Freind who
would receive and comfort me in my afflictions.
It was so dark when I entered the Coach that I could not distinguish
the Number of my Fellow-travellers; I could only perceive that they
were many. Regardless however of anything concerning them, I gave
myself up to my own sad Reflections. A general silence prevailed—A
silence, which was by nothing interrupted but by the loud and repeated
snores of one of the Party.
“What an illiterate villain must that man be! (thought I to myself)
What a total want of delicate refinement must he have, who can thus
shock our senses by such a brutal noise! He must I am certain be
capable of every bad action! There is no crime too black for such a
Character!” Thus reasoned I within myself, and doubtless such were the
reflections of my fellow travellers.
At length, returning Day enabled me to behold the unprincipled
Scoundrel who had so violently disturbed my feelings. It was Sir Edward
the father of my Deceased Husband. By his side sate Augusta, and on the
same seat with me were your Mother and Lady Dorothea. Imagine my
surprise at finding myself thus seated amongst my old Acquaintance.
Great as was my astonishment, it was yet increased, when on looking out
of Windows, I beheld the Husband of Philippa, with Philippa by his
side, on the Coachbox and when on looking behind I beheld, Philander
and Gustavus in the Basket. “Oh! Heavens, (exclaimed I) is it possible
that I should so unexpectedly be surrounded by my nearest Relations and
Connections?” These words roused the rest of the Party, and every eye
was directed to the corner in which I sat. “Oh! my Isabel (continued I
throwing myself across Lady Dorothea into her arms) receive once more
to your Bosom the unfortunate Laura. Alas! when we last parted in the
Vale of Usk, I was happy in being united to the best of Edwards; I had
then a Father and a Mother, and had never known misfortunes—But now
deprived of every freind but you—”
“What! (interrupted Augusta) is my Brother dead then? Tell us I intreat
you what is become of him?” “Yes, cold and insensible Nymph, (replied
I) that luckless swain your Brother, is no more, and you may now glory
in being the Heiress of Sir Edward’s fortune.”
Although I had always despised her from the Day I had overheard her
conversation with my Edward, yet in civility I complied with hers and
Sir Edward’s intreaties that I would inform them of the whole
melancholy affair. They were greatly shocked—even the obdurate Heart of
Sir Edward and the insensible one of Augusta, were touched with sorrow,
by the unhappy tale. At the request of your Mother I related to them
every other misfortune which had befallen me since we parted. Of the
imprisonment of Augustus and the absence of Edward—of our arrival in
Scotland—of our unexpected Meeting with our Grand-father and our
cousins—of our visit to Macdonald-Hall—of the singular service we there
performed towards Janetta—of her Fathers ingratitude for it.. of his
inhuman Behaviour, unaccountable suspicions, and barbarous treatment of
us, in obliging us to leave the House.. of our lamentations on the loss
of Edward and Augustus and finally of the melancholy Death of my
beloved Companion.
Pity and surprise were strongly depictured in your Mother’s
countenance, during the whole of my narration, but I am sorry to say,
that to the eternal reproach of her sensibility, the latter infinitely
predominated. Nay, faultless as my conduct had certainly been during
the whole course of my late misfortunes and adventures, she pretended
to find fault with my behaviour in many of the situations in which I
had been placed. As I was sensible myself, that I had always behaved in
a manner which reflected Honour on my Feelings and Refinement, I paid
little attention to what she said, and desired her to satisfy my
Curiosity by informing me how she came there, instead of wounding my
spotless reputation with unjustifiable Reproaches. As soon as she had
complyed with my wishes in this particular and had given me an accurate
detail of every thing that had befallen her since our separation (the
particulars of which if you are not already acquainted with, your
Mother will give you) I applied to Augusta for the same information
respecting herself, Sir Edward and Lady Dorothea.
She told me that having a considerable taste for the Beauties of
Nature, her curiosity to behold the delightful scenes it exhibited in
that part of the World had been so much raised by Gilpin’s Tour to the
Highlands, that she had prevailed on her Father to undertake a Tour to
Scotland and had persuaded Lady Dorothea to accompany them. That they
had arrived at Edinburgh a few Days before and from thence had made
daily Excursions into the Country around in the Stage Coach they were
then in, from one of which Excursions they were at that time returning.
My next enquiries were concerning Philippa and her Husband, the latter
of whom I learned having spent all her fortune, had recourse for
subsistence to the talent in which, he had always most excelled,
namely, Driving, and that having sold every thing which belonged to
them except their Coach, had converted it into a Stage and in order to
be removed from any of his former Acquaintance, had driven it to
Edinburgh from whence he went to Sterling every other Day. That
Philippa still retaining her affection for her ungratefull Husband, had
followed him to Scotland and generally accompanied him in his little
Excursions to Sterling. “It has only been to throw a little money into
their Pockets (continued Augusta) that my Father has always travelled
in their Coach to veiw the beauties of the Country since our arrival in
Scotland—for it would certainly have been much more agreable to us, to
visit the Highlands in a Postchaise than merely to travel from
Edinburgh to Sterling and from Sterling to Edinburgh every other Day in
a crowded and uncomfortable Stage.” I perfectly agreed with her in her
sentiments on the affair, and secretly blamed Sir Edward for thus
sacrificing his Daughter’s Pleasure for the sake of a ridiculous old
woman whose folly in marrying so young a man ought to be punished. His
Behaviour however was entirely of a peice with his general Character;
for what could be expected from a man who possessed not the smallest
atom of Sensibility, who scarcely knew the meaning of simpathy, and who
actually snored—.
Adeiu
Laura.
LETTER the 15th
LAURA in continuation.
When we arrived at the town where we were to Breakfast, I was
determined to speak with Philander and Gustavus, and to that purpose as
soon as I left the Carriage, I went to the Basket and tenderly enquired
after their Health, expressing my fears of the uneasiness of their
situation. At first they seemed rather confused at my appearance
dreading no doubt that I might call them to account for the money which
our Grandfather had left me and which they had unjustly deprived me of,
but finding that I mentioned nothing of the Matter, they desired me to
step into the Basket as we might there converse with greater ease.
Accordingly I entered and whilst the rest of the party were devouring
green tea and buttered toast, we feasted ourselves in a more refined
and sentimental Manner by a confidential Conversation. I informed them
of every thing which had befallen me during the course of my life, and
at my request they related to me every incident of theirs.
“We are the sons as you already know, of the two youngest Daughters
which Lord St Clair had by Laurina an italian opera girl. Our mothers
could neither of them exactly ascertain who were our Father, though it
is generally beleived that Philander, is the son of one Philip Jones a
Bricklayer and that my Father was one Gregory Staves a Staymaker of
Edinburgh. This is however of little consequence for as our Mothers
were certainly never married to either of them it reflects no Dishonour
on our Blood, which is of a most ancient and unpolluted kind. Bertha
(the Mother of Philander) and Agatha (my own Mother) always lived
together. They were neither of them very rich; their united fortunes
had originally amounted to nine thousand Pounds, but as they had always
lived on the principal of it, when we were fifteen it was diminished to
nine Hundred. This nine Hundred they always kept in a Drawer in one of
the Tables which stood in our common sitting Parlour, for the
convenience of having it always at Hand. Whether it was from this
circumstance, of its being easily taken, or from a wish of being
independant, or from an excess of sensibility (for which we were always
remarkable) I cannot now determine, but certain it is that when we had
reached our 15th 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 either with folly or Extravagance. To this
purpose we therefore divided it into nine parcels, one of which we
devoted to Victuals, the 2d to Drink, the 3d to Housekeeping, the 4th
to Carriages, the 5th to Horses, the 6th to Servants, the 7th to
Amusements, the 8th to Cloathes and the 9th to Silver Buckles. Having
thus arranged our Expences for two months (for we expected to make the
nine Hundred Pounds last as long) we hastened to London and had the
good luck to spend it in 7 weeks and a Day which was 6 Days sooner than