Ms. Austen (Chapter 7, page 2 of 6)


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Chapter 7

Jane believed that she would find that happiness she had longed for, one day. She was a writer, and if she could invent the lives and dreams of her characters, she could certainly find a decent ending for herself. Writing was her passion of all passions, since she was a young child scribbling her first words. It gave her peace in times where her reality had no peace, and gave her rest when rest was the farthest thing from her mind. She could indeed write her own happiness, in a world much like this, but with more beauty and less agony.

She returned to the house with the bouquet she had so carefully crafted, only to find her sister fast asleep and snoring peacefully. So as not to wake her, she quietly crept up the stairs to her room. She sat at her writing desk and slowly began to pen her next chapter. As she wrote, the words came so quickly that her mind and her hand were at a dissimilar pace. She was inspired on this lovely day, not only by the beautiful landscape before her but by the mere thought that even if her life were cut short this very minute, she had almost finished her greatest work yet.

Still writing away hours later, Jane was interrupted by the voice of man, yelling at the top of his lungs from below her window. "Jane! Do come down and see your brother!" She stuck her head out of the window to find her brother Henry, dancing about like a mad man. "Henry! Oh it is such a pleasure to see you! I'm coming down!" she was so excited to see her dear brother, for he had gone to Hartfordshire with his family years before. She quickly glanced at her reflection in the mirror, and headed for the stairs.

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