father will not deny me this place to rest in!"
Here he presently fell into the most violent agonies, tearing his
hair from his head, and using most other actions which generally
accompany fits of madness, rage, and despair.
When he had in this manner vented the first emotions of passion,
he began to come a little to himself. His grief now took another turn,
and discharged itself in a gentler way, till he became at last cool
enough to reason with his passion, and to consider what steps were
proper to be taken in his deplorable condition.
And now the great doubt was, how to act with regard to Sophia. The
thoughts of leaving her almost rent his heart asunder; but the
consideration of reducing her to ruin and beggary still racked him, if
possible, more; and if the violent desire of possessing her person
could have induced him to listen one moment to this alternative, still
he was by no means certain of her resolution to indulge his wishes
at so high an expense. The resentment of Mr. Allworthy, and the injury
he must do to his quiet, argued strongly against this latter; and
lastly, the apparent impossibility of his success, even if he would
sacrifice all these considerations to it, came to his assistance;
and thus honour at last backed with despair, with gratitude to his
benefactors, and with real love to his mistress, got the better of
burning desire, and he resolved rather to quit Sophia, than pursue her
to her ruin.
It is difficult for any who have not felt it, to conceive the
glowing warmth which filled his breast on the first contemplation of
this victory over his passion. Pride flattered him so agreeably,
that his mind perhaps enjoyed perfect happiness; but this was only
momentary: Sophia soon returned to his imagination, and allayed the
joy of his triumph with no less bitter pangs than a good-natured
general must feel, when he surveys the bleeding heaps, at the price of
whose blood he hath purchased his laurels; for thousands of tender
ideas lay murdered before our conqueror.
Being resolved, however, to pursue the paths of this giant honour,
as the gigantic poet Lee calls it, he determined to write a farewell
letter to Sophia; and accordingly proceeded to a house not far off,
where, being furnished with proper materials, he wrote as follows:-
MADAM,-
When you reflect on the situation in which I write, I am sure your
good-nature will pardon any inconsistency or absurdity which my letter
contains; for everything here flows from a heart so full, that no
language can express its dictates.
I have resolved, madam, to obey your commands, in flying for ever
from your dear, your lovely sight. Cruel indeed those commands are;
but it is a cruelty which proceeds from fortune, not from my Sophia.
Fortune hath made it necessary, necessary to your preservation, to
forget there ever was such a wretch as I am.
Believe me, I would not hint all my sufferings to you, if I imagined
they could possibly escape your ears. I know the goodness and
tenderness of your heart, and would avoid giving you any of those
pains which you always feel for the miserable. O let nothing, which
you shall hear of my hard fortune, cause a moment's concern; for,
after the loss of you, everything is to me a trifle.
O Sophia! it is hard to leave you; it is harder still to desire
you to forget me; yet the sincerest love obliges me to both. Pardon my
conceiving that any remembrance of me can give you disquiet; but if
I am so gloriously wretched, sacrifice me every way to your relief.
Think I never loved you; or think truly how little I deserve you;
and learn to scorn me for a presumption which can never be too
severely punished.- I am unable to say more.- May guardian angels
protect you for ever!
He was now searching his pockets for his wax, but found none, nor
indeed anything else, therein; for in truth he had, in his frantic
disposition, tossed everything from him, and amongst the rest, his
pocket-book, which he had received from Mr. Allworthy, which he had
never opened, and which now first occurred to his memory.
The house supplied him with a wafer for his present purpose, with
which, having sealed his letter, he returned hastily towards the brook
side, in order to search for the things which he had there lost. In
his way he met his old friend Black George, who heartily condoled with
him on his misfortune; for this had already reached his ears, and
indeed those of all the neighbourhood.
Jones acquainted the gamekeeper with his loss, and he as readily
went back with him to the brook, where they searched every tuft of
grass in the meadow, as well where Jones had not been as where he
had been; but all to no purpose, for they found nothing; for,
indeed, though the things were then in the meadow, they omitted to
search the only place where they were deposited; to wit, in the
pockets of the said George; for he had just before found them, and
being luckily apprized of their value. had very carefully put them
up for his own use.
The gamekeeper having exerted as much diligence in quest of the lost
goods, as if he had hoped to find them, desired Mr. Jones to recollect
if he had been in no other place: "For sure," said he, "if you had
lost them here so lately, the things must have been here still; for
this is a very unlikely place for any one to pass by." And indeed it
was by great accident that he himself had passed through that field,
in order to lay wires for hares, with which he was to supply a
poulterer at Bath the next morning.
Jones now gave over all hopes of recovering his loss, and almost all
thoughts concerning it, and turning to Black George, asked him
earnestly if he would do him the greatest favour in the world?
George answered with some hesitation, "Sir, you know you may command
me whatever is in my power, and I heartily wish it was in my power
to do you any service." In fact, the question staggered him; for he
had, by selling game, amassed a pretty good sum of money in Mr.
Western's service, and was afraid that Jones wanted to borrow some
small matter of him; but he was presently relieved from his anxiety,
by being desired to convey a letter to Sophia, which with great
pleasure he promised to do. And indeed I believe there are few favours
which he would not have gladly conferred on Mr. Jones; for he bore
as much gratitude towards him as he could, and was as honest as men
who love money better than any other thing in the universe,
generally are.
Mrs. Honour was agreed by both to be the proper means by which
this letter should pass to Sophia. They then separated; the gamekeeper
returned home to Mr. Western's, and Jones walked to an alehouse at
half a mile's distance, to wait for his messenger's return.
George no sooner came home to his master's house than he met with
Mrs. Honour; to whom, having first sounded her with a few previous
questions, he delivered the letter for her mistress, and received at
the same time another from her, for Mr. Jones; which Honour told him
she had carried all that day in her bosom, and began to despair of
finding any means of delivering it.
The gamekeeper returned hastily and joyfully to Jones, who, having
received Sophia's letter from him, instantly withdrew, and eagerly
breaking it open, read as follows:-
SIR,-
It is impossible to express what I have felt since I saw you. Your
submitting, on my account, to such cruel insults from my father,
lays me under an obligation I shall ever own. As you know his
temper, I beg you will, for my sake, avoid him. I wish I had any
comfort to send you; but believe this, that nothing but the last
violence shall ever give my hand or heart where you would be sorry
to see them bestowed.
Jones read this letter a hundred times over, and kissed it a hundred
times as often. His passion now brought all tender desires back into
his mind. He repented that he had writ to Sophia in the manner we have
seen above; but he repented more that he had made use of the
interval of his messenger's absence to write and dispatch a letter
to Mr. Allworthy, in which he had faithfully promised and bound
himself to quit all thoughts of his love. However, when his cool
reflections returned, he plainly perceived that his case was neither
mended nor altered by Sophia's billet, unless to give him some
little glimpse of hope, from her constancy, of some favourable
accident hereafter. He therefore resumed his resolution, and taking
leave of Black George, set forward to a town about five miles distant,
whither he had desired Mr. Allworthy, unless he pleased to revoke
his sentence, to send his things after him.
Chapter 13
The behaviour of Sophia on the present occasion; which none of her
sex will blame, who are capable of behaving in the same manner. And
the discussion of a knotty point in the court of conscience
Sophia had passed the last twenty-four hours in no very desirable
manner. During a large part of them she had been entertained by her
aunt with lectures of prudence, recommending to her the example of the
polite world, where love (so the good lady said) is at present
entirely laughed at, and where women consider matrimony, as men do
offices of public trust, only as the means of making their fortunes,
and of advancing themselves in the world. In commenting on which
text Mrs. Western had displayed her eloquence during several hours.
These sagacious lectures, though little suited either to the taste
or inclination of Sophia, were, however, less irksome to her than
her own thoughts, that formed the entertainment of the night, during
which she never once closed her eyes.
But though she could neither sleep nor rest in her bed, yet,
having no avocation from it, she was found there by her father at
his return from Allworthy's, which was not till past ten o'clock in
the morning. He went directly up to her apartment, opened the door,
and seeing she was not up, cried, "Oh! you are safe then, and I am
resolved to keep you so." He then locked the door, and delivered the
key to Honour, having first given her the strictest charge, with great
promises of rewards for her fidelity, and most dreadful menaces of
punishment in case should betray her trust.
Honour's orders were, not to suffer her mistress to come out of
her room without the authority of the squire himself, and to admit
none to her but him and her aunt; but she was herself to attend her
with whatever Sophia pleased, except only pen, ink, and paper, of
which she was forbidden the use.
The squire ordered his daughter to dress herself and attend him at
dinner; which she obeyed; and having sat the usual time, was again
conducted to her prison.
In the evening the gaoler Honour brought her the letter which she
received from the gamekeeper. Sophia read it very attentively twice or
thrice over, and then threw herself upon the bed, and burst into a
flood of tears. Mrs. Honour expressed great astonishment at this
behaviour in her mistress; nor could she forbear very eagerly
begging to know the cause of this passion. Sophia made her no answer
for some time, and then, starting suddenly up, caught her maid by
the hand, and cried, "O Honour! I am undone." "Marry forbid," cries
Honour: "I wish the letter had been burnt before I had brought it to
your la'ship. I'm sure I thought it would have comforted your la'ship,
or I would have seen it at the devil before I would have touched
it." "Honour," says Sophia, "you are a good girl, and it is vain to
attempt concealing longer my weakness from you; I have thrown away
my heart on a man who hath forsaken me." "And is Mr. Jones,"
answered the maid, "such a perfidy man?" "He hath taken his leave of
me," says Sophia, "for ever in that letter. Nay, he hath desired me to
forget him. Could he have desired that if he had loved me? Could he
have borne such a thought? Could he have written such a word?" "No,
certainly, ma'am," cries Honour; "and to be sure, if the best man in
England was to desire me to forget him, I'd take him at his word.
Marry, come up! I am sure your la'ship hath done him too much honour
ever to think on him;- a young lady who may take her choice of all
the young men in the country. And to be sure, if I may be so
presumptuous as to offer my poor opinion, there is young Mr. Blifil,
who, besides that he is come of honest parents, and will be one of the
greatest squires all hereabouts, he is to be sure, in my poor opinion,
a more handsomer and a more politer man by half; and besides, he is
a young gentleman of a sober character, and who may defy any of the
neighbours to say black is his eye; he follows no dirty trollops,
nor can any bastards be laid at his door. Forget him, indeed! I
thank Heaven I myself am not so much at my last prayers as to suffer
any man to bid me forget him twice. If the best he that wears a head
was for to go for to offer to say such an affronting word to me, I
would never give him my company afterwards, if there was another young
man in the kingdom. And as I was a saying, to be sure, there is
young Mr. Blifil." "Name not his detested name," cries Sophia. "Nay,
ma'am," says Honour, "if your la'ship doth not like him, there be more
jolly handsome young men that would court your la'ship, if they had
but the least encouragement. I don't believe there is arrow young
gentleman in this county, or in the next to it, that if your la'ship
was but to look as if you had a mind to him, would not come about to
make his offers directly." "What a wretch dost thou imagine me," cries
Sophia, "by affronting my ears with such stuff! I all detest all
mankind." "Nay, to be sure, ma'am," answered Honour, "your la'ship
hath had enough to give you a surfeit of them. To be used ill by
such a poor, beggarly, bastardly fellow."- "Hold your blasphemous
