their being found together; adding, “Oh, Mr
Jones, you know not, you know not what hath passed
this cruel afternoon.”—“I know
all, my Sophia,” answered he; “your cruel
father hath told me all, and he himself hath sent
me hither to you.”—“My father
sent you to me!” replied she: “sure
you dream.”—“Would to Heaven,”
cries he, “it was but a dream! Oh, Sophia,
your father hath sent me to you, to be an advocate
for my odious rival, to solicit you in his favour.
I took any means to get access to you. O speak
to me, Sophia! comfort my bleeding heart. Sure
no one ever loved, ever doated like me. Do not
unkindly withhold this dear, this soft, this gentle
hand—one moment, perhaps, tears you for
ever from me—nothing less than this cruel
occasion could, I believe, have ever conquered the
respect and awe with which you have inspired me.”
She stood a moment silent, and covered with confusion;
then lifting up her eyes gently towards him, she cried,
“What would Mr Jones have me say?”—“O
do but promise,” cries he, “that you never
will give yourself to Blifil.”—“Name
not,” answered she, “the detested sound.
Be assured I never will give him what is in my power
to withhold from him.”—“Now
then,” cries he, “while you are so perfectly
kind, go a little farther, and add that I may hope.”—“Alas!”
says she, “Mr Jones, whither will you drive
me? What hope have I to bestow? You know
my father’s intentions.”—“But
I know,” answered he, “your compliance
with them cannot be compelled.”—“What,”
says she, “must be the dreadful consequence
of my disobedience? My own ruin is my least concern.
I cannot bear the thoughts of being the cause of my
father’s misery.”—“He
is himself the cause,” cries Jones, “by
exacting a power over you which Nature hath not given
him. Think on the misery which I am to suffer
if I am to lose you, and see on which side pity will
turn the balance.”—“Think of
it!” replied she: “can you imagine
I do not feel the ruin which I must bring on you,
should I comply with your desire? It is that
thought which gives me resolution to bid you fly from
me for ever, and avoid your own destruction.”—“I
fear no destruction,” cries he, “but the
loss of Sophia. If you would save me from the
most bitter agonies, recall that cruel sentence.
Indeed, I can never part with you, indeed I cannot.”
The lovers now stood both silent and trembling, Sophia
being unable to withdraw her hand from Jones, and
he almost as unable to hold it; when the scene, which
I believe some of my readers will think had lasted
long enough, was interrupted by one of so different
a nature, that we shall reserve the relation of it
for a different chapter.
Being of a much more tempestuous kind than the former.
Before we proceed with what now happened to our lovers,
it may be proper to recount what had past in the hall
during their tender interview.
Soon after Jones had left Mr Western in the manner
above mentioned, his sister came to him, and was presently
informed of all that had passed between her brother
and Sophia relating to Blifil.
