{"product_id":"2940015601008","title":"Laura","description":"Leonora Mary Hassal Sansay (b. 1773), also known as Mary Hassal, was born into the American Revolution. She was a personal acquaintance of Vice President Aaron Burr, under President Thomas Jefferson, and became one of the earliest US gothic authors.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLaura is a fictionalized autobiographical account of Leonora Sansay’s early life in and near Philadelphia. It was a life that alternated between romance and tragedy. The story begins with tales of Laura’s mother Rosina, whose life also alternated between romance and tragedy. Laura tells of a very warm relationship with her mother, trying to find her own way in life, dealing with disease and other setbacks, and finding love in the midst of it all. She discovers that life does not always go as planned, but she struggles to make the best of her situation at all times.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe cover portrait of a lady and her son is by American artist John Vanderlyn in 1800. He also painted a portrait of Leonora Sansay that has not been found.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis edition was prepared and edited by Snazz eBooks ™.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOriginal cover design and other original content of this edition are Copyright © 2012 by Snazz eBooks ™. All rights reserved. No reproduction by any means is allowed without permission.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHere is an excerpt:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOne evening, seated on a little hillock, she retraced the many happy moments she had passed in that neighborhood with her from whom she was now forever separated, still overcome by the painful variety of her sensations, she reclined on the grass and wept aloud.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRoused from her recumbent attitude by the sound of approaching footsteps, she raised her eyes, and fixed them on a face in every lineament of which was blended the sweetest expression of pity. A voice which seemed to tremble lest its softest accent should be found intrusive, sounded on her ear, and the hand that was stretched forth to raise her, appeared to entreat her acceptance of its support.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLaura, covered with unspeakable confusion, turned away in silence, but the stranger was too deeply interested to be easily avoided; he walked slowly by her side, and sought to apologize for his intrusion, or to excuse its continuance.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter a silence of some minutes, during which the confusion of Laura had painfully increased, he offered her his arm, and begged permission to attend her home. She refused both. Ah refuse me not, he said, suffer me to guard you from the danger that may lurk in this sequestered place, whilst I regret that, being unknown to you prevents my offering more;—Laura raised her eyes to his face:—prevents, he continued, my offering that sympathy which the tears I witnessed have so powerfully awakened. The tears of Laura glistened on her cheek: sighs which she vainly endeavoured to suppress, broke from her bosom. Fair suffering being, said the stranger, my heart bleeds for your pain: so young are you already the victim of misfortune?—has affliction chosen for her poisoned arrows a mark so fair? Who are you that thus even in silence so irresistibly seizes on my feelings? Speak to me. No impertinent curiosity seeks its own gratification, by prying into your sorrows,—but animated by the purest motives, I flew to soothe your pains—to arrest the sighs which you supposed were unheard by all except that heaven to whom they were addressed, and to dry those tears, which fell as you thought, unregarded, on the earth’s cold bosom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe heart of Laura had been wrung with pain even beyond the power of endurance, and the sweetly insinuating voice of pity had not soothed its sufferings: that heart revived beneath the consoling powers of the stranger, her tears flowed, but they were not tears of bitterness: she would have thanked him for his care, but her sensations defied the power of utterance. She reached her home without having spoken a word. When turning to take leave of her conductor, he entreated to be allowed to see her again; she continued silent: a moment only, he urged, tomorrow evening, at this hour, at this place,—my name is Belfield—","brand":"Snazz eBooks","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47070981292272,"sku":"2940015601008","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940015601008_p0.jpg?v=1763622286","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940015601008","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}