ve upstairs however for the present,
and am coddled. I am the only one of the legatees
who has been so silly, but a weak body must excuse
weak nerves.

My mother has borne the forgetfulness of _her_
extremely well--her expectations for herself were
never beyond the extreme of moderation, and she
thinks with you that my Uncle always looked
forward to surviving her. She desires her best
love, and many thanks for your kind feelings; and
heartily wishes that her younger children had
more, and all her children something
immediately. . . .

Nothing can be kinder than Mrs. Cooke's enquiries
after you [and Harriet] in all her letters, and
there was no standing her affectionate way of
speaking of _your_ countenance, after her seeing
you. God bless you all.

Conclude me to be going on well if you hear
nothing to the contrary.

Yours ever truly,
J. A.

Tell dear Harriet that whenever she wants me in
her service again she must send a hackney chariot
all the way for me--for I am not strong enough to
travel any other way, and I hope Cassy will take
care that it is a green one. . . .

We will end this chapter with Caroline Austen's account of her last
visit to her Aunt Jane, which occurred about this time.

It had been settled[362] that about the end of
March, or the beginning of April, I should spend a
few days at Chawton, in the absence of my father
and mother, who were just then engaged with Mrs.
Leigh Perrot in arranging her late husband's
affairs; but Aunt Jane became too ill to have me
in the house, and so I went instead to my sister
Mrs. Lefroy at Wyards. The next day we walked over
to Chawton to make enquiries after our aunt. She
was then keeping her room, but said she would see
us, and we went up to her. She was in her
dressing-gown, and was sitting quite like an
invalid in an arm-chair, but she got up and kindly
greeted us, and then, pointing to seats which had
been arranged for us by the fire, she said 'There
is a chair f