"I humbly crave your pardon," said the parson; "I assure your
worship I meant no such matter."
My Lady Bellaston now entered the room, and came up to the squire,
who no sooner saw her, than, resolving to follow the instructions of
his sister, he made her a very civil bow, in the rural manner, and
paid her some of his best compliments. He then immediately proceeded
to his complaints, and said, "There, my lady cousin; there stands
the most undutiful child in the world; she hankers after a beggarly
rascal, and won't marry one of the greatest matches in all England,
that we have provided for her."
"Indeed, cousin Western," answered the lady, "I am persuaded you
wrong my cousin. I am sure she hath a better understanding. I am
convinced she will not refuse what she must be sensible is so much
to her advantage."
This was a wilful mistake in Lady Bellaston, for she well knew
whom Mr. Western meant; though perhaps she thought he would easily
be reconciled to his lordship's proposals.
"Do you hear there," quoth the squire, "what her ladyship say? All
your family are for the match. Come, Sophy, be a good girl, and be
dutiful, and make your father happy."
"If my death will make you happy, sir," answered Sophia, "you will
shortly be so."
"It's a lye, Sophy; it's a d--n'd lye, and you know it," said the
squire.
"Indeed, Miss Western"' said Lady Bellaston, "you injure your
father; he hath nothing in view but your interest in this match; and I
and all your friends must acknowledge the highest honour done to
your family in the proposal."
"Ay, all of us," quoth the squire; "nay, it was no proposal of mine.
She knows it was her aunt proposed it to me first.- Come, Sophy, once
more let me beg you to be a good girl, and gee me your consent
before your cousin."
"Let me give him your hand, cousin," said the lady. "It is the
fashion now-a-days to dispense with time and long courtships."
"Pugh!" said the squire, "what signifies time; won't they have
time enough to court afterwards? People may court very well after they
have been a-bed together."
As Lord Fellamar was very well assured that he was meant by Lady
Bellaston, so, never having heard nor suspected a word of Blifil, he
made no doubt of his being meant by the father. Coming up,
therefore, to the squire, he said, "Though I have not the honour, sir,
of being personally known to you, yet, as I find I have the
happiness to have my proposals accepted, let me intercede, sir, in
behalf of the young lady, that she may not be more solicited at this
time."
"You intercede, sir!" said the squire; "why, who the devil are you?"
"Sir, I am Lord Fellamar," answered he, "and am the happy man whom I
hope you have done the honour of accepting for a son-in-law."
"You are a son of a b--," replied the squire, "for all your laced
coat. You my son-in-law, and be d--n'd to you!"
"I shall take more from you, sir, than from any man," answered the
lord; "but I must inform you that I am not used to hear such
language without resentment."
"Resent my a--," quoth the squire. "Don't think I am afraid of such
a fellow as thee art! because hast got a spit there dangling at thy
side. Lay by your spit, and I'll give thee enough of meddling with
what doth not belong to thee. I'll teach you to father-in-law me. I'll
lick thy jacket."
"It's very well, sir," said my lord, "I shall make no disturbance
before the ladies. I am very well satisfied. Your humble servant, sir;
Lady Bellaston, your most obedient."
His lordship was no sooner gone, than Lady Bellaston, coming up to
Mr. Western, said, "Bless me, sir, what have you done? You know not
whom you have affronted; he is a nobleman of the first rank and
fortune, and yesterday made proposals to your daughter; and such as
I am sure you must accept with the highest pleasure."
"Answer for yourself, lady cousin," said the squire, "I will have
nothing to do with any of your lords. My daughter shall have an honest
country gentleman; I have pitched upon one for her- and she shall ha'
un.- I am sorry for the trouble she hath given your ladyship with all
my heart." Lady Bellaston made a civil speech upon the word trouble;
to which the squire answered- "Why, that's kind- and I would do as
much for your ladyship. To be sure relations should do for one
another. So I wish your ladyship a good night.- Come, madam, you must
go along with me by fair means, or I'll have you carried down to the
coach."
Sophia said she would attend him without force; but begged to go
in a chair, for she said she should not be able to ride any other way.
"Prithee," cries the squire, "wout unt persuade me canst not ride in
a coach, wouldst? That's a pretty thing surely! No, no, I'll never let
thee out of my sight any more till art married, that I promise
thee." Sophia told him, she saw he was resolved to break her heart. "O
break thy heart and be d--n'd," quoth he, "if a good husband will
break it. I don't value a brass varden, not a halfpenny, of any
undutiful b-- upon earth." He then took a violent hold of her hand;
upon which the parson once more interfered, begging him to use gentle
methods. At that the squire thundered out a curse, and bid the parson
hold his tongue, saying, "At'nt in pulpit now? when art a got up there
I never mind what dost say; but I won't be priest-ridden, nor taught
how to behave myself by thee. I wish your ladyship a good night. Come
along, Sophy; be a good girl, and all shall be well. Shat ha' un,
d--n me, shat ha' un!"
Mrs. Honour appeared below-stairs, and with a low curtesy to the
squire offered to attend her mistress; but he pushed her away, saying,
"Hold, madam, hold, you come no more near my house." "And will you
take my maid away from me?" said Sophia. "Yes, indeed, madam, will I,"
cries the squire: "you need not fear being without a servant; I will
get you another maid, and a better maid than this, who, I'd lay five
pounds to a crown, is no more a maid than my grannum. No, no, Sophy,
she shall contrive no more escapes, I promise you." He then packed
up his daughter and the parson into the hackney coach, after which
he mounted himself, and ordered it to drive to his lodgings. In the
way thither he suffered Sophia to be quiet, and entertained himself
with reading a lecture to the parson on good manners, and a proper
behaviour to his betters.
It is possible he might not so easily have carried off his
daughter from Lady Bellaston, had that good lady desired to have
detained her; but, in reality, she was not a little pleased with the
confinement into which Sophia was going; and as her project with
Lord Fellamar had failed of success, she was well contented that other
violent methods were now going to be used in favour of another man.
Chapter 6
By what means the squire came to discover his daughter
Though the reader, in many histories, is obliged to digest much more
unaccountable appearances than this of Mr. Western, without any
satisfaction at all; yet, as we dearly love to oblige him whenever
it is in our power, we shall now proceed to show by what method the
squire discovered where his daughter was.
In the third chapter, then, of the preceding book, we gave a hint
(for it is not our custom to unfold at any time more than is necessary
for the occasion) that Mrs. Fitzpatrick, who was very desirous of
reconciling her uncle and aunt Western, thought she had a probable
opportunity, by the service of preserving Sophia from committing the
same crime which had drawn on herself the anger of her family. After
much deliberation, therefore, she resolved to inform her aunt
Western where her cousin was, and accordingly she writ the following
letter, which we shall give the reader at length, for more reasons
than one.
HONOURED MADAM,
The occasion of my writing this will perhaps make a letter of mine
agreeable to my dear aunt, for the sake of one of her nieces, though I
have little reason to hope it will be so on the account of another.
Without more apology, as I was coming to throw my unhappy self at
your feet, I met, by the strangest accident in the world, my cousin
Sophy, whose history you are better acquainted with than myself,
though, alas! I know infinitely too much; enough indeed to satisfy me,
that unless she is immediately prevented, she is in danger of
running into the same fatal mischief which, by foolishly and
ignorantly refusing your most wise and prudent advice, I have
unfortunately brought on myself.
In short, I have seen the man, nay, I was most Part of yesterday
in his company, and a charming young fellow I promise you he is. By
what accident he came acquainted with me is too tedious to tell you
now; but I have this morning changed my lodgings to avoid him, lest he
should by my means discover my cousin; for he doth not yet know
where she is, and it is adviseable he should not, till my uncle hath
secured her.-- No time therefore is to be lost; and I need only inform
you, that she is now with Lady Bellaston, whom I have seen, and who
hath, I find, a design of concealing her from her family. You know,
madam, she is a strange woman; but nothing could misbecome me more,
than to presume to give any hint to one of your great understanding
and great knowledge of the world, besides barely informing you of
the matter of fact.
I hope, madam, the care which I have shewn on this occasion for
the good of my family, will recommend me again to the favour of a lady
who hath always exerted so much zeal for the honour and true
interest of us all; and that it may be a means of restoring me to your
friendship, which hath made so great a part of my former, and is so
necessary to my future happiness.
I am,
with the utmost respect,
honoured madam,
your most dutiful obliged niece,
and most obedient humble
servant,
HARRIET FITZPATRICK
Mrs. Western was now at her brother's house, where she had resided
ever since the flight of Sophia, in order to administer comfort to the
poor squire in his affliction. Of this comfort, which she doled out to
him in daily portions, we have formerly given a specimen.
She was now standing with her back to the fire, and, with a pinch of
snuff in her hand, dealing forth this daily allowance of comfort to
the squire, while he smoaked his afternoon pipe, when she received the
above letter; which she had no sooner read than she delivered it to
him, saying, "There, sir, there is an account of your lost sheep.
Fortune hath again restored her to you, and if you will be governed by
my advice, it is possible you may yet preserve her."
The squire had no sooner read the letter than he leaped from his
chair, threw his pipe into the fire, and gave a loud huzza for joy. He
then summoned his servants, called for his boots, and ordered the
Chevalier and several other horses to be saddled, and that parson
Supple should be immediately sent for. Having done this, he turned
to his sister, caught her in his arms, and gave her a close embrace,
saying, "Zounds! you don't seem pleased; one would imagine you was
sorry I have found the girl."
"Brother," answered she, "the deepest politicians, who see to the
bottom, discover often a very different aspect of affairs, from what
swims on the surface. It is true, indeed, things do look rather less
desperate than they did formerly in Holland, when Lewis the Fourteenth
was at the gates of Amsterdam; but there is a delicacy required in
this matter, which you will pardon me, brother, if I suspect you want.
There is a decorum to be used with a woman of figure, such as Lady
Bellaston, brother, which requires a knowledge of the world, superior,
I am afraid, to yours."
"Sister," cries the squire, "I know you have no opinion of my parts;
but I'll shew you on this occasion who is a fool. Knowledge, quotha! I
have not been in the country so long without having some knowledge
of warrants and the law of the land. I know I may take my own wherever
I can find it. Shew me my own daughter, and if I don't know how to
come at her, I'll suffer you to call me a fool as long as I live.
There be justices of peace in London, as well as in other places."
"I protest," cries she, "you make me tremble for the event of this
matter, which, if you will proceed by my advice, you may bring to so
good an issue. Do you really imagine, brother, that the house of a
woman of figure is to be attacked by warrants and brutal justices of
the peace? I will inform you how to proceed. As soon as you arrive
in town, and have got yourself into a decent dress (for indeed,
brother, you have none at present fit to appear in), you must send
your compliments to Lady Bellaston, and desire leave to wait on her.
When you are admitted to her presence, as you certainly will be, and
have told her your story, and have made proper use of my name (for I
think you just know one another only by sight, though you are
relations), I am confident she will withdraw her protection from my
niece, who hath certainly imposed upon her. This is the only
method.- Justices of peace, indeed! do you imagine any such event can
arrive to a woman of figure in a civilised nation?"
"D--n their figures," cries the squire; "a pretty civilised nation,
