Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Self-control -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
When the sad task was finished, Laura, still speechless, motioned to the
servant to retire. In horror at the thoughts of leaving Laura alone with
the dead, yet fearing to raise her voice, the girl respectfully grasped
her mistress's gown, and, in a low but earnest whisper, besought her to
leave this dismal place, and to go to her own chamber. Scarcely sensible
of her meaning, Laura suffered her to draw her away; but when the door
closed upon all that remained of her father, she shuddered convulsively,
and struggled to return. Fanny, however, gathered courage to lead her
to her own apartment. There she threw herself prostrate on the ground; a
flood of tears came to relieve her oppressed heart, and her recovered
utterance broke forth in an act of resignation. She continued for some
hours to give vent to her sorrow--a sorrow unallayed by any less painful
feeling, save those of devotion. She had lost the affectionate guide of
her youth, the fond parent, whose love for her had brought him untimely
to the grave; and, in the anguish of the thought that she should watch
his smile and hear his voice no more, she scarcely remembered that he
had left her to want and loneliness.
The morning was far advanced, when her sorrows were broken in upon by
her landlady, who came to ask her directions in regard to the funeral.
Laura had been unable to bend her thoughts to the consideration of this
subject; and she answered only by her tears. In vain did Mrs Stubbs
repeat that 'it was folly to take on so,'--'that we must all die;' 'and
that as every thing has two handles, Laura might comfort herself that
she should now have but one mouth to feed.' Laura seemed obstinate in
her grief, and at last Mrs Stubbs declared that whether she would hear
reason or not, something must without delay be settled about the
funeral; as for her part she could not order things without knowing how
they were to be paid for. Laura, putting her hand to her forehead,
complained that her head felt confused, and, mildly begging her
persecutor to have a little patience with her, promised, if she might be
left alone for the present, to return to the conversation in half an
hour.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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