by Jane Austen
‘Have you seen him then, this Morning?’ said Kitty.
‘Oh Yes! And I was so sleepy that I could not open my eyes. And so he said, Camilla, goodbye to you for I am going away—. I have not time to take leave of any body else, and I dare not trust myself to see Kitty, for then you know I should never get away—’
‘Nonsense, said Kitty; he did not say that, or he was in joke if he did.’
‘Oh! no I assure you he was as much in earnest as he ever was in his life; he was too much out of spirits to joke then. And he desired me when we all met at Breakfast to give his Compts to your Aunt, and his Love to you, for you was a nice* Girl he said, and he only wished it were in his power to be more with you. You were just the Girl to suit him, because you were so lively and good-natured, and he wished with all his heart that you might not be married before he came back, for there was nothing he liked better than being here. Oh! You have no idea what fine things he said about you, till at last I fell asleep and he went away. But he certainly is in love with you—I am sure he is— I have thought so a great while I assure you.’
‘How can you be so ridiculous? said Kitty smiling with pleasure; I do not beleive him to be so easily affected. But he did desire his Love to me then? And wished I might not be married before his return? And said I was a nice Girl, did he?’
‘Oh! dear, yes, and I assure you it is the greatest praise in his opinion, that he can bestow on any body; I can hardly ever persuade him to call me one, tho’ I beg him sometimes for an hour together.’
‘And do you really think that he was sorry to go?’
Oh! you can have no idea how wretched it made him. He would not have gone this Month, if my Father had not insisted on it; Edward told me so himself yesterday. He said that he wished with all his heart he had never promised to go abroad, for that he repented it more and more every day; that it interfered with all his other schemes, and that since Papa had spoke to him about it, he was more unwilling to leave Chetwynde than ever.’
‘Did he really say all this? And why would your father insist upon his going? “His leaving England interfered with all his other plans, and his Conversation with Mr Stanley had made him still more averse to it.” What can this Mean?’
‘Why that he is excessively in love with you to be sure; what other plans can he have? And I suppose my father said that if he had not been going abroad, he should have wished him to marry you immediately.—But I must go and see your Aunt’s plants—There is one of them that I quite doat on—and two or three more besides—’.
‘Can Camilla’s explanation be true? said Catherine to herself, when her freind had left the room. And after all my doubts and Uncertainties, can Stanley really be averse to leaving England for my sake only? “His plans interrupted.” And what indeed can his plans be, but towards Marriage? Yet so soon to be in love with me!—But it is the effect perhaps only of a warmth of heart which to me is the highest recommendation in any one. A Heart disposed to love—And such under the appearance of so much Gaity and Inattention, is Stanly’s! Oh! how much does it endear him to me! But he is gone—Gone perhaps for years—Obliged to tear himself from what he most loves, his happiness is sacrificed to the vanity of his Father! In what anguish he must have left the house! Unable to see me, or to bid me adeiu, while I, senseless wretch, was daring to sleep. This, then explains his leaving us at such a time of day—. He could not trust himself to see me—. Charming Young Man! How much must you have suffered! I knew that it was impossible for one so elegant, and so well bred, to leave any Family in such a Manner, but for a Motive like this unanswerable.’ Satisfied, beyond the power of Change, of this, she went in high spirits to her Aunt’s apartment, without giving a Moment’s recollection on the vanity of Young Women, or the unaccountable conduct of Young Men.——
[Family Continuations to VOLUME THE THIRD]
[Continuation of Evelyn, by James Edward Austen]*
On his return home, he rang the housebell, but no one appeared, a second time he rang, but the door was not opened, a third & a fourth with as little success,* when observing the dining parlour window open he leapt in,* & persued his way through the house till he reached Maria’s Dressingroom, where he found all the servants assembled at tea.* Surprized at so very unusual a sight, he fainted, on his recovery he found himself on the Sofa, with his wife’s maid kneeling by him, chafing his temples with Hungary water*—. From her he learned that his beloved Maria had been so much grieved at his departure that she died of a broken heart about 3 hours after his departure.
He then became sufficiently composed to give necessary orders for her funeral which took place the Monday following this being the Saturday—When Mr Gower had settled the order of the procession* he set out himself to Carlisle, to give vent to his sorrow in the bosom of his family*—He arrived there in high health & Spirits, after a delightful journey of 3 days & a ½—What was his surprize on entering the Breakfast parlour to see Rosa his beloved Rosa seated on a Sofa; at the sight of him she fainted & would have fallen had not a Gentleman sitting with his back to the door, started up & saved her from sinking to the ground*—She very soon came to herself & then introduced this gentleman to her Brother as her Husband a Mr Davenport—
But my dearest Rosa said the astonished Gower, I thought you were dead & buried. Why my dr Frederick replied Rosa I wished you to think so, hoping that you would spread the report about the country & it would thus by some means reach —— Castle*—By this I hoped some how or other to touch the hearts of its inhabitants. It was not till the day before yesterday that I heard of the death of my beloved Henry which I learned from Mr D —— who concluded by offering me his hand. I accepted it with transport, & was married yesterday*— Mr Gower, embraced his sister & shook hands with Mr Davenport, he then took a stroll into the town—As he passed by a public house he called for a pot of beer,* which was brought him immediately by his old friend Mrs Willis—
Great was his astonishment at seeing Mrs Willis in Carlisle. But not forgetful of the respect he owed her, he dropped on one knee, & received the frothy cup from her, more grateful to him than Nectar*— He instantly made her an offer of his hand & heart, which she graciously condescended to accept,* telling him that she was only on a visit to her cousin, who kept the Anchor* & should be ready to return to Evelyn, whenever he chose—The next morning they were married & immediately proceeded to Evelyn—When he reached home, he recollected that he had never written to Mr & Mrs Webb to inform them of the death of their daughter, which he rightly supposed they knew nothing of, as they never took in any newspapers—He immediately dispatched the following Letter—
Evelyn—Augst 19th 1809—
Dearest Madam,
How can words express the poignancy of my feelings! Our Maria, our beloved Maria is no more, she breathed her last, on Saturday the 12th of Augst I see you now in an agony of grief lamenting not your own, but my loss—Rest satisfied I am happy, possessed of my lovely Sarah what more can I wish for?—
I remain
respectfully Yours
F. Gower—
Westgate Builgs* Augst 2d
Generous, best of Men
how truly we rejoice to hear of your present welfare & happiness ! & how truly grateful are we for your unexampled generosity in writing to condole with us on the late unlucky accident which befel our Maria—I have enclosed a draught on our banker for 50 pounds, which Mr Webb joins with me in entreating you & the aimiable Sarah to accept—
Your most grateful
Anne Augusta Webb
Mr & Mrs Gower resided many years at Evelyn enjoying perfect happiness the just reward of their virtues. The only alteration which took place at Evelyn was that Mr & Mrs Davenport settled there in Mrs Willis’s former abode & were for many years the proprietors of the White horse Inn*——
[Continuation of Evelyn, by Anna Lefroy]
On re entering his circular domain, his round-Robin of perpetual peace;* where enjoyment had no End, and calamity no commencement,*
his spirits became wonderfully composed, and a delicious calm extended itself through every nerve—With his pocket hankerchief (once hemmed by the genius of the too susceptible Rosa) he wiped the morbid moisture from his brow;—then flew to the Boudoir of his Maria—And, did she not fly to meet her Frederick? Did she not dart from the couch on which she had so gracefully reclined, and, bounding like an agile Fawn over the intervening Foot stool, precipitate herself into his arms?* Does she not, though fainting between every syllable, breathe forth as it were by installments* her Frederick’s adored name? Who is there of perception so obtuse as not to realize the touching scene? Who, of ear so dull as not to catch the soft murmur of Maria’s voice? Ah! Who? The heart of every sympathetic reader repeats, Ah, Who? Vain Echo! vain sympathy!* There is no meeting—no Murmur—No Maria—It is not in the power of language however potent; nor in that of style, however diffuse to render justice to the astonishment of Mr Gower—Arming him self with a mahogany ruler,* which some fatality had placed on Maria’s writing table, and calling repeatedly on her beloved Name, he rushed forward to examine the adjacent apartments—In the Dressing room of his lost one he had the melancholy satisfaction of picking up a curl paper,* and a gust of wind, as he re entered the Boudoir, swept from the table, & placed at his feet, a skein of black sewing silk*—These were the only traces of Maria!! Carefully locking the doors of these now desolate rooms, burying the key deep in his Waistcoat pocket, & the mystery of Maria’s disappearance yet deeper in his heart of hearts, Mr Gower left his once happy home, and sought a supper, and a Bed, at the house of the hospitable Mrs Willis——There was an oppression on his chest which made him extremely uncomfortable; he regretted that instead of the skein of silk carefully wrapped up in the curl paper & placed beneath his pillow, he had not rather swallowed Laudanum*—It would have been, in all probability, more efficacious— At last, Mr Gower slept a troubled sleep, and in due course of time he dreamt, a troubled dream—He dreamed of Maria, as how could he less? She stood by his Bed side, in her Dressing gown—one hand held an open book, with the forefinger of the other she pointed to this ominous passage—‘Tantôt c’est un vide; qui nous Ennuie; tantôt c’est un poids qui nous oppresse’*—The unfortunate Frederick uttered a deep groan—& as the vision closed the volume he observed these characters strangely imprinted on the Cover—Rolandi—Berners Street.* Who was this dangerous Rolandi? Doubtless a Bravo or a Monk*— possibly both—and what was he to Maria? Vainly he would have dared the worst, and put the fatal question—the semblance of Maria raised her monitory finger, and interdicted speech*—Yet, some words she spoke, or seemed to speak her self; Mr Gower could distinguish only these—Search—Cupboard—Top shelf*—Once more he essayed to speak, but it was all bewilderment—He heard strange Demon-like Sounds; hissing and spitting—he smelt an unearthly smell the agony became unbearable, and he awoke—Maria had vanished; the Rush light was expiring in the Socket;* and the benevolent Mrs Willis entering his room, threw open the shutters, and in accordance with her own warmth of heart admitted the full blaze of a Summer morning’s sun—JAEL
[Continuation of Kitty, or the Bower, by James Edward Austen]
Kitty continued in this state of satisfaction during the remainder of the Stanley’s visit—Who took their leave with many pressing invitations to visit them in London, when as Camilla said, she might have an opportunity of becoming acquainted with that sweet girl Augusta Hallifax—Or Rather (thought Kitty,) of seeing my dr Mary Wynn again—Mrs Percival in answer to Mrs Stanley’s invitation replied— That she looked upon London as the hot house of Vice where virtue had long been banished from Society & wickedness of every description was daily gaining ground*—that Kitty was of herself sufficiently inclined to give way to, & indulge in vicious inclinations*—& therefore was the last girl in the world to be trusted in London, as she would be totally unable to withstand temptation——
After the departure of the Stanleys Kitty returned to her usual occupations, but alas! they had lost their power of pleasing. Her bower alone retained its interest in her feelings, & perhaps that was oweing to the particular remembrance it brought to her mind of Edwd Stanley.
The Summer passed away unmarked by any incident worth narrating, or any pleasure to Catharine save one, which arose from the reciept of a letter from her friend Cecilia now Mrs Lascelles,* announcing the speedy return of herself & Husband to England. A correspondence productive indeed of little pleasure to either party had been established between Camilla & Catharine. The latter had now lost the only satisfaction she had ever received from the letters of Miss Stanley, as that young Lady having informed her Friend of the departure of her Brother to Lyons* now never mentioned his name—Her letters seldom contained any Intelligence except a description of some new Article of Dress, an enumeration of various engagements, a panegirge* on Augusta Halifax & perhaps a little abuse of the unfortunate Sir Peter—
The Grove, for so was the Mansion of Mrs Percival at Chetwynde denominated was situated whin five miles from Exeter, but though that Lady possessed a carriage & horses of her own, it was seldom that Catharine could prevail on her to visit that town for the purpose of shopping, on account of the many Officers perpetually Quartered there & who infested the principal Streets*—A company of strolling players in their way from some Neighbouring Races* having opened a temporary Theatre there, Mrs Percival was prevailed on by her Niece to indulge her by attending the performance once during their stay—Mrs Percival insisted on paying Miss Dudley the compliment of inviting her to join the party, when a new difficulty arose, from the necessity of having some Gentleman to attend them*——
