a smile, and a softness inexpressible. Jones answered
with a sigh, “He feared it was already too late
for caution:” and then looking tenderly
and stedfastly on her, he cried, “Oh, Miss Western!
can you desire me to live? Can you wish me so
ill?” Sophia, looking down on the ground, answered
with some hesitation, “Indeed, Mr Jones, I do
not wish you ill.”—“Oh, I know
too well that heavenly temper,” cries Jones,
“that divine goodness, which is beyond every
other charm.”—“Nay, now,”
answered she, “I understand you not. I can
stay no longer.”—“I—I
would not be understood!” cries he; “nay,
I can’t be understood. I know not what
I say. Meeting you here so unexpectedly, I have
been unguarded: for Heaven’s sake pardon
me, if I have said anything to offend you. I
did not mean it. Indeed, I would rather have
died—nay, the very thought would kill me.”—“You
surprize me,” answered she. “How
can you possibly think you have offended me?”—“Fear,
madam,” says he, “easily runs into madness;
and there is no degree of fear like that which I feel
of offending you. How can I speak then?
Nay, don’t look angrily at me: one frown
will destroy me. I mean nothing. Blame my
eyes, or blame those beauties. What am I saying?
Pardon me if I have said too much. My heart overflowed.
I have struggled with my love to the utmost, and have
endeavoured to conceal a fever which preys on my vitals,
and will, I hope, soon make it impossible for me ever
to offend you more.”
Mr Jones now fell a trembling as if he had been shaken
with the fit of an ague. Sophia, who was in a
situation not very different from his, answered in
these words: “Mr Jones, I will not affect
to misunderstand you; indeed, I understand you too
well; but, for Heaven’s sake, if you have any
affection for me, let me make the best of my way into
the house. I wish I may be able to support myself
thither.”
Jones, who was hardly able to support himself, offered
her his arm, which she condescended to accept, but
begged he would not mention a word more to her of
this nature at present. He promised he would not;
insisting only on her forgiveness of what love, without
the leave of his will, had forced from him: this,
she told him, he knew how to obtain by his future
behaviour; and thus this young pair tottered and trembled
along, the lover not once daring to squeeze the hand
of his mistress, though it was locked in his.
Sophia immediately retired to her chamber, where Mrs
Honour and the hartshorn were summoned to her assistance.
As to poor Jones, the only relief to his distempered
mind was an unwelcome piece of news, which, as it
opens a scene of different nature from those in which
the reader hath lately been conversant, will be communicated
to him in the next chapter.
In which Mr Allworthy appears on a sick-bed.
Mr Western was become so fond of Jones that he was
unwilling to part with him, though his arm had been
long since cured; and Jones, either from the love
of sport, or from some other reason, was easily persuaded
to continue at his house, which he did sometimes for
a fortnight together without paying a single visit
at Mr Allworthy’s; nay, without ever hearing
from thence.
