or the married lady, and a little
stool for you, Caroline.' It is strange, but
those trifling words were the last of hers that I
can remember, for I retain no recollection of what
was said by anyone in the conversation that
ensued. I was struck by the alteration in herself.
She was very pale, her voice was weak and low, and
there was about her a general appearance of
debility and suffering; but I have been told that
she never had much acute pain. She was not equal
to the exertion of talking to us, and our visit to
the sick room was a very short one, Aunt Cassandra
soon taking us away. I do not suppose we stayed a
quarter of an hour; and I never saw Aunt Jane
again.

FOOTNOTES:

[345] _Sailor Brothers_, p. 270.

[346] Page 139.

[347] _Memoir_, p. 150.

[348] See note on p. 347.

[349] One is quoted from a letter to Charles, dated April 6, 1817 (p.
385); the other from a letter written at Winchester shortly before her
death (p. 391).

[350] The road by which many Winchester boys returned home ran close to
Chawton Cottage.

[351] A small pond close to Chawton Cottage, at the junction of the
Winchester and Gosport roads.

[352] Unpublished fragment.

[353] Edward Lefroy, brother of Ben.

[354] See p. 360. Mrs. West was a farmer's wife who lived to the age of
ninety-three, and left behind her eighteen volumes of novels, plays, and
poetry.

[355] Miss Bigg's nephew, afterwards Sir William Heathcote.

[356] Henry Austen.

[357] The poem by Southey, who had lost his eldest son early in 1816. It
has been already stated that Southey was a nephew of Mr. Hill.

[358] The watering-place is called 'Sanditon,' and this name has been
given to the twelve chapters by the family.

[359] _Memoir_, p. 181.

[360] Mme. Bigeon had perhaps lost her savings in the crash that ended
her master's banking business.

[361] We ought not to forget that he had just lost L10,000 in the
bankruptcy of his nephew Henry.

[362] _Memoir_, p. 161.

CHAPTER XXI

WINCHESTER

1817

Even after the beginning of April, Jane's hopefulness did not desert
her. 'I am happy,' says James Austen, writing to his daughter Anna, 'to
give you a good account, written by herself in a letter from your Aunt
Jane; but all who love--and that is all who know her--must be anxious on
her account.'