Sophia well understood what her aunt meant; but did
not think proper to make her an answer. However,
she took a resolution to see Mr Blifil, and to behave
to him as civilly as she could, for on that condition
only she obtained a promise from her aunt to keep secret
the liking which her ill fortune, rather than any
scheme of Mrs Western, had unhappily drawn from her.
Containing a dialogue between Sophia and Mrs Honour,
which may a little relieve those tender affections
which the foregoing scene may have raised in the mind
of a good-natured reader.
Mrs Western having obtained that promise from her
niece which we have seen in the last chapter, withdrew;
and presently after arrived Mrs Honour. She was
at work in a neighbouring apartment, and had been
summoned to the keyhole by some vociferation in the
preceding dialogue, where she had continued during
the remaining part of it. At her entry into the
room, she found Sophia standing motionless, with the
tears trickling from her eyes. Upon which she
immediately ordered a proper quantity of tears into
her own eyes, and then began, “O Gemini, my
dear lady, what is the matter?”—“Nothing,”
cries Sophia. “Nothing! O dear Madam!”
answers Honour, “you must not tell me that,
when your ladyship is in this taking, and when there
hath been such a preamble between your ladyship and
Madam Western.”—“Don’t
teaze me,” cries Sophia; “I tell you nothing
is the matter. Good heavens! why was I born?”—“Nay,
madam,” says Mrs Honour, “you shall never
persuade me that your la’ship can lament yourself
so for nothing. To be sure I am but a servant;
but to be sure I have been always faithful to your
la’ship, and to be sure I would serve your la’ship
with my life.”—“My dear Honour,”
says Sophia, “’tis not in thy power to
be of any service to me. I am irretrievably undone.”—“Heaven
forbid!” answered the waiting-woman; “but
if I can’t be of any service to you, pray tell
me, madam—it will be some comfort to me
to know—pray, dear ma’am, tell me
what’s the matter.”—“My
father,” cries Sophia, “is going to marry
me to a man I both despise and hate.”—“O
dear, ma’am,” answered the other, “who
is this wicked man? for to be sure he is very bad,
or your la’ship would not despise him.”—“His
name is poison to my tongue,” replied Sophia:
“thou wilt know it too soon.” Indeed,
to confess the truth, she knew it already, and therefore
was not very inquisitive as to that point. She
then proceeded thus: “I don’t pretend
to give your la’ship advice, whereof your la’ship
knows much better than I can pretend to, being but
a servant; but, i-fackins! no father in England should
marry me against my consent. And, to be sure,
the ’squire is so good, that if he did but know
your la’ship despises and hates the young man,
to be sure he would not desire you to marry him.
And if your la’ship would but give me leave
to tell my master so. To be sure, it would be
