prevailed, and he determined to wait on Lady Bellaston, and to
relinquish the design.
Lady Bellaston was in bed, though very late in the morning, and
Sophia sitting by her bedside, when the servant acquainted her that
Lord Fellamar was below in the parlour; upon which her ladyship
desired him to stay, and that she would see him presently; but the
servant was no sooner departed than poor Sophia began to intreat her
cousin not to encourage the visits of that odious lord (so she
called him, though a little unjustly) upon her account. "I see his
design," said she; "for he made downright love to me yesterday
morning; but as I am resolved never to admit it, I beg your ladyship
not to leave us alone together any more, and to order the servants
that, if he inquires for me, I may be always denied to him."
"La! child," says Lady Bellaston, "you country girls have nothing
but sweethearts in your head; you fancy every man who is civil to
you is making love. He is one of the most gallant young fellows
about town, and I am convinced means no more than a little
gallantry. Make love to you indeed! I wish with all my heart he would,
and you must be an arrant mad woman to refuse him."
"But I shall certainly be that mad woman," cries Sophia, "I hope his
visits shall not be intruded upon me."
"O child!" said Lady Bellaston, "you need not be so fearful; if
you resolve to run away with that Jones, I know no person who can
hinder you."
"Upon my honour, madam," cries Sophia, "your ladyship injures me.
I will never run away with any man; nor will I ever marry contrary
to my father's inclinations."
"Well, Miss Western," said the lady, "if you are not in a humour
to see company this morning, you may retire to your own apartment; for
I am not frightened at his lordship, and must send for him up into
my dressing-room."
Sophia thanked her ladyship, and withdrew; and presently
afterwards Fellamar was admitted upstairs.
Chapter 4
By which it will appear how dangerous an advocate a lady is when she
applies her eloquence to an ill purpose
When Lady Bellaston heard the young lord's scruples, she treated
them with the same disdain with which one of those sages of the law,
called Newgate solicitors, treats the qualms of conscience in a
young witness. "My dear lord," said she, "you certainly want a
cordial. I must send to Lady Edgely for one of her best drams. Fie
upon it! have more resolution. Are you frightened by the word rape? Or
are you apprehensive--? Well! if the story of Helen was modern, I
should think it unnatural. I mean the behaviour of Paris, not the
fondness of the lady; for all women love a man of spirit. There is
another story of the Sabine ladies- and that too, I thank heaven, is
very antient. Your lordship, perhaps, will admire my reading; but I
think Mr. Hook tells us, they made tolerable good wives afterwards.
I fancy few of my married acquaintance were ravished by their
husbands." "Nay, dear Lady Bellaston," cried he, "don't ridicule me in
this manner." "Why, my good lord," answered she, "do you think woman
in England would not laugh at you in her heart, whatever prudery she
might wear in her countenance?-- You force me to use a strange kind of
language, and to betray my sex most abominably; but I am contented
with knowing my intentions are good, and that I am endeavouring to
serve my cousin; for I think you will make her a husband
notwithstanding this; or, upon my soul, I would not even persuade
her to fling herself away upon an empty title. She should not
upbraid me hereafter with having lost a man of spirit; for that his
enemies allow this poor young fellow to be."
Let those who have had the satisfaction of hearing reflections of
this kind from a wife or a mistress, declare whether they are at all
sweetened by coming from a female tongue. Certain it is, they sunk
deeper into his lordship than anything which Demosthenes or Cicero
could have said on the occasion.
Lady Bellaston, perceiving she had fired the young lord's pride,
began now, like a true orator, to rouse other passions to its
assistance. "My Lord," says she, in a graver voice, "you will be
pleased to remember, you mentioned this matter to me first; for I
would not appear to you in the light of one who is endeavouring to put
off my cousin upon you. Fourscore thousand pounds do not stand in need
of an advocate to recommend them." "Nor doth Miss Western," said he,
"require any recommendation from her fortune; for, in my opinion, no
woman ever had half her charms." "Yes, yes, my lord," replied the
lady, looking in the glass, there have been women with more than
half her charms, I assure you; not that I need lessen her on that
account: she is a most delicious girl, that's certain; and within
these few hours she will be in the arms of one, who surely doth not
deserve her, though I will give him his due, I believe he is truly a
man of spirit."
"I hope so, madam," said my lord; "though I must own he doth not
deserve her; for, unless heaven or your ladyship disappoint me, she
shall within that time be in mine."
"Well spoken, my lord," answered the lady; "I promise you no
disappointment shall happen from my side; and within this week I am
convinced I shall call your lordship my cousin in public."
The remainder of this scene consisted entirely of raptures, excuses,
and compliments, very pleasant to have heard from the parties; but
rather dull when related at second hand. Here, therefore, shall put an
end to this dialogue, and hasten to the fatal hour when everything was
prepared for the destruction of poor Sophia.
But this being the most tragical matter in our whole history, we
shall treat it in a chapter by itself.
Chapter 5
Containing some matters which may affect, and others which may
surprize, the reader
The clock had now struck seven, and poor Sophia, alone and
melancholy, sat reading a tragedy. It was the Fatal Marriage; and
she was now come to that part where the poor distrest Isabella
disposes of her wedding-ring.
Here the book dropt from her hand, and a shower of tears ran down
into her bosom. In this situation she had continued a minute, when the
door opened, and in came Lord Fellamar. Sophia started from her
chair at his entrance; and his lordship advancing forwards, and making
a low bow, said, "I am afraid, Miss Western, I break in upon you
abruptly." "Indeed, my lord," says she, "I must own myself a little
surprized at this unexpected visit." "If this visit be unexpected,
madam," answered Lord Fellamar, "my eyes must have been very faithless
interpreters of my heart, when last I had the honour of seeing you;
for surely you could not otherwise have hoped to detain my heart in
your possession, without receiving a visit from its owner." Sophia,
confused as she was, answered this bombast (and very properly I think)
with a look of inconceivable disdain. My lord then made another and
a longer speech of the same sort. Upon which Sophia, trembling,
said, "Am I really to conceive your lordship to be out of your senses?
Sure, my lord, there is no other excuse for such behaviour." "I am,
indeed, madam, in the situation you suppose," cries his lordship; "and
sure you will pardon the effects of a frenzy which you yourself have
occasioned; for love hath so totally deprived me of reason, that I
am scarce accountable for any of my actions." "Upon my word, my lord,"
said Sophia, "I neither understand your words nor your behaviour."
"Suffer me then, madam," cries he, "at your feet to explain both, by
laying open my soul to you, and declaring that I doat on you to the
highest degree of distraction. O most adorable, most divine
creature! what language can express the sentiments of my heart?" "I do
assure you, my lord," said Sophia, "I shall not stay to hear any
more of this." "Do not," cries he, "think of leaving me thus
cruelly; could you know half the torments which I feel, that tender
bosom must pity what those eyes have caused." Then fetching a deep
sigh, and laying hold of her hand, he ran on for some minutes in a
strain which would be little more pleasing to the reader than it was
to the lady; and at last concluded with a declaration, "That if he was
master of the world, he would lay it her feet." Sophia then,
forcibly pulling away her hand from his, answered with much spirit, "I
promise you, sir, your world and its master I should spurn from me
with equal contempt." She then offered to go; and Lord Fellamar, again
laying hold of her hand, said, "Pardon me, my beloved angel,
freedoms which nothing but despair could have tempted me to
take.-- Believe me, could I have had any hope that my title and
fortune, neither of them inconsiderable, unless when compared with
your worth, would have been accepted, I had, in the humblest manner,
presented them to your acceptance.- But I cannot lose you.- By heaven,
I will sooner part with my soul!- You are, you must, you shall be only
mine." "My lord," says she, "I intreat you to desist from a vain
pursuit; for, upon my honour, I will never hear you on this subject.
Let go my hand, my lord; for I am resolved to go from you this moment;
nor will I ever see you more." "Then, madam," cries his lordship, "I
must make the best use of this moment; for I cannot live, nor will I
live without you."-- "What do you mean, my lord?" said Sophia; "I will
raise the family." "I have no fear, madam," answered he, "but of
losing you, and that I am resolved to prevent, the only way which
despair points to me."- He then caught her in his arms: upon which
she screamed so loud, that she must have alarmed some one to her
assistance, had not Lady Bellaston taken care to remove all ears.
But a more lucky circumstance happened for poor Sophia; another
noise now broke forth, which almost drowned her cries; for now the
whole house rang with, "Where is she? D--n me, I'll unkennel her this
instant. Show me her chamber, I say. Where is my daughter? I know
she's in the house, and I'll see her if she's above-ground. Show me
where she is."- At which last words the door flew open, and in came
Squire Western, with his parson and a set of myrmidons at his heels.
How miserable must have been the condition of poor Sophia, when
the enraged voice of her father was welcome to her ears! Welcome
indeed it was, and luckily did he come; for it was the only accident
upon earth which could have preserved the peace of her mind from being
for ever destroyed.
Sophia, notwithstanding her fright, presently knew her father's
voice; and his lordship, notwithstanding his passion, knew the voice
of reason, which peremptorily assured him, it was not now a time for
the perpetration of his villany. Hearing, therefore, the voice
approach, and hearing likewise whose it was (for as the squire more
than once roared forth the word daughter, so Sophia, in the midst of
her struggling, cried out upon her father), he thought proper to
relinquish his prey, having only disordered her handkerchief, and with
his rude lips committed violence on her lovely neck.
If the reader's imagination doth not assist me, I shall never be
able to describe the situation of these two persons when Western
came into the room. Sophia tottered into a chair, where she sat
disordered, pale, breathless, bursting with indignation at Lord
Fellamar; affrighted, and yet more rejoiced, at the arrival of her
father.
His lordship sat down near her, the bag of his wig hanging over
one of his shoulders, the rest of his dress being somewhat disordered,
and rather a greater proportion of linen than is usual appearing at
his bosom. As to the rest, he was amazed, affrighted, vexed, and
ashamed.
As to Squire Western, he happened at this time to be overtaken by an
enemy, which very frequently pursues, and seldom fails to overtake,
most of the country gentlemen in this kingdom. He was, literally
speaking, drunk; which circumstance, together with his natural
impetuosity, could produce no other effect than his running
immediately up to his daughter, upon whom he fell foul with his tongue
in the most inveterate manner; nay, he had probably committed violence
with his hands, had not the parson interposed, saying, "For heaven's
sake, sir, animadvert that you are in the house of a great lady. Let
me beg you to mitigate your wrath; it should minister a fulness of
satisfaction that you have found your daughter; for as to revenge,
it belongeth not unto us. I discern great contrition in the
countenance of the young lady. I stand assured, if you will forgive
her, she will repent her of all past offences, and return unto her
duty."
The strength of the parson's arms had at first been of more
service than the strength of his rhetoric. However, his last words
wrought some effect, and the squire answered, "I'll forgee her if
she wull ha' un. If wot ha' un, Sophy, I'll forgee thee all. Why
dost unt speak? Shat ha' un! d--n me, shat ha' un! Why dost unt
answer? Was ever such a stubborn tuoad?"
"Let me intreat you, sir, to be a little more moderate," said the
parson; "you frighten the young lady so, that you deprive her of all
power of utterance."
"Power of mine a--," answered the squire. "You take her part then,
you do? A pretty parson, truly, to side with an undutiful child!
Yes, yes, I will gee you a living with a pox. I'll gee un to the devil
sooner."
