Chapter ix.

A further continuation.

Allworthy took an opportunity, whilst he was in the chair, of reading

the letter from Jones to Sophia, which Western delivered him; and

there were some expressions in it concerning himself which drew tears

from his eyes. At length he arrived at Mr Western's, and was

introduced to Sophia.

When the first ceremonies were past, and the gentleman and lady had

taken their chairs, a silence of some minutes ensued; during which the

latter, who had been prepared for the visit by her father, sat playing

with her fan, and had every mark of confusion both in her countenance

and behaviour. At length Allworthy, who was himself a little

disconcerted, began thus: “I am afraid, Miss Western, my family hath

been the occasion of giving you some uneasiness; to which, I fear, I

have innocently become more instrumental than I intended. Be assured,

madam, had I at first known how disagreeable the proposals had been, I

should not have suffered you to have been so long persecuted. I hope,

therefore, you will not think the design of this visit is to trouble

you with any further solicitations of that kind, but entirely to

relieve you from them.”

“Sir,” said Sophia, with a little modest hesitation, “this behaviour

is most kind and generous, and such as I could expect only from Mr

Allworthy; but as you have been so kind to mention this matter, you

will pardon me for saying it hath, indeed, given me great uneasiness,

and hath been the occasion of my suffering much cruel treatment from

a father who was, till that unhappy affair, the tenderest and fondest

of all parents. I am convinced, sir, you are too good and generous to

resent my refusal of your nephew. Our inclinations are not in our own

power; and whatever may be his merit, I cannot force them in his

favour.” “I assure you, most amiable young lady,” said Allworthy, “I

am capable of no such resentment, had the person been my own son, and

had I entertained the highest esteem for him. For you say truly,

madam, we cannot force our inclinations, much less can they be

directed by another.” “Oh! sir,” answered Sophia, “every word you

speak proves you deserve that good, that great, that benevolent

character the whole world allows you. I assure you, sir, nothing less

than the certain prospect of future misery could have made me resist

the commands of my father.” “I sincerely believe you, madam,” replied

Allworthy, “and I heartily congratulate you on your prudent

foresight, since by so justifiable a resistance you have avoided

misery indeed!” “You speak now, Mr Allworthy,” cries she, “with a

delicacy which few men are capable of feeling! but surely, in my

opinion, to lead our lives with one to whom we are indifferent must

be a state of wretchedness.----Perhaps that wretchedness would be

even increased by a sense of the merits of an object to whom we

cannot give our affections. If I had married Mr Blifil--” “Pardon my

interrupting you, madam,” answered Allworthy, “but I cannot bear the

supposition.--Believe me, Miss Western, I rejoice from my heart, I

rejoice in your escape.--I have discovered the wretch for whom you

have suffered all this cruel violence from your father to be a

villain.” “How, sir!” cries Sophia--“you must believe this surprizes

me.”--“It hath surprized me, madam,” answered Allworthy, “and so it

will the world.----But I have acquainted you with the real truth.”

“Nothing but truth,” says Sophia, “can, I am convinced, come from the

lips of Mr Allworthy.----Yet, sir, such sudden, such unexpected

news.----Discovered, you say----may villany be ever so!”--“You will

soon enough hear the story,” cries Allworthy;--“at present let us not

mention so detested a name.--I have another matter of a very serious

nature to propose.--O! Miss Western, I know your vast worth, nor can

I so easily part with the ambition of being allied to it.--I have a

near relation, madam, a young man whose character is, I am convinced,

the very opposite to that of this wretch, and whose fortune I will

make equal to what his was to have been. Could I, madam, hope you

would admit a visit from him?” Sophia, after a minute's silence,

answered, “I will deal with the utmost sincerity with Mr Allworthy.

His character, and the obligation I have just received from him,

demand it. I have determined at present to listen to no such

proposals from any person. My only desire is to be restored to the

affection of my father, and to be again the mistress of his family.

This, sir, I hope to owe to your good offices. Let me beseech you,

let me conjure you, by all the goodness which I, and all who know

you, have experienced, do not, the very moment when you have released

me from one persecution, do not engage me in another as miserable and

as fruitless.” “Indeed, Miss Western,” replied Allworthy, “I am

capable of no such conduct; and if this be your resolution, he must

submit to the disappointment, whatever torments he may suffer under

it.” “I must smile now, Mr Allworthy,” answered Sophia, “when you

mention the torments of a man whom I do not know, and who can

consequently have so little acquaintance with me.” “Pardon me, dear

young lady,” cries Allworthy, “I begin now to be afraid he hath had

too much acquaintance for the repose of his future days; since, if

ever man was capable of a sincere, violent, and noble passion, such,

I am convinced, is my unhappy nephew's for Miss Western.” “A nephew

of your's, Mr Allworthy!” answered Sophia. “It is surely strange. I

never heard of him before.” “Indeed, madam,” cries Allworthy, “it is

only the circumstance of his being my nephew to which you are a

stranger, and which, till this day, was a secret to me.--Mr Jones,

who has long loved you, he! he is my nephew!” “Mr Jones your nephew,

sir!” cries Sophia, “can it be possible?”--“He is, indeed, madam,”

answered Allworthy; “he is my own sister's son--as such I shall

always own him; nor am I ashamed of owning him. I am much more

ashamed of my past behaviour to him; but I was as ignorant of his

merit as of his birth. Indeed, Miss Western, I have used him

cruelly----Indeed I have.”--Here the good man wiped his eyes, and

after a short pause proceeded--“I never shall be able to reward him

for his sufferings without your assistance.----Believe me, most

amiable young lady, I must have a great esteem of that offering which

I make to your worth. I know he hath been guilty of faults; but there

is great goodness of heart at the bottom. Believe me, madam, there

is.” Here he stopped, seeming to expect an answer, which he presently

received from Sophia, after she had a little recovered herself from

the hurry of spirits into which so strange and sudden information had

thrown her: “I sincerely wish you joy, sir, of a discovery in which

you seem to have such satisfaction. I doubt not but you will have all

the comfort you can promise yourself from it. The young gentleman

hath certainly a thousand good qualities, which makes it impossible

he should not behave well to such an uncle.”--“I hope, madam,” said

Allworthy, “he hath those good qualities which must make him a good

husband.--He must, I am sure, be of all men the most abandoned, if a

lady of your merit should condescend--” “You must pardon me, Mr

Allworthy,” answered Sophia; “I cannot listen to a proposal of this

kind. Mr Jones, I am convinced, hath much merit; but I shall never

receive Mr Jones as one who is to be my husband--Upon my honour I

never will.”--“Pardon me, madam,” cries Allworthy, “if I am a little

surprized, after what I have heard from Mr Western--I hope the

unhappy young man hath done nothing to forfeit your good opinion, if

he had ever the honour to enjoy it.--Perhaps, he may have been

misrepresented to you, as he was to me. The same villany may have

injured him everywhere.--He is no murderer, I assure you; as he hath

been called.”--“Mr Allworthy,” answered Sophia, “I have told you my

resolution. I wonder not at what my father hath told you; but,

whatever his apprehensions or fears have been, if I know my heart, I

have given no occasion for them; since it hath always been a fixed

principle with me, never to have married without his consent. This

is, I think, the duty of a child to a parent; and this, I hope,

nothing could ever have prevailed with me to swerve from. I do not

indeed conceive that the authority of any parent can oblige us to

marry in direct opposition to our inclinations. To avoid a force of

this kind, which I had reason to suspect, I left my father's house,

and sought protection elsewhere. This is the truth of my story; and

if the world, or my father, carry my intentions any farther, my own

conscience will acquit me.” “I hear you, Miss Western,” cries

Allworthy, “with admiration. I admire the justness of your

sentiments; but surely there is more in this. I am cautious of

offending you, young lady; but am I to look on all which I have

hitherto heard or seen as a dream only? And have you suffered so much

cruelty from your father on the account of a man to whom you have

been always absolutely indifferent?” “I beg, Mr Allworthy,” answered

Sophia, “you will not insist on my reasons;--yes, I have suffered

indeed; I will not, Mr Allworthy, conceal----I will be very sincere

with you--I own I had a great opinion of Mr Jones--I believe--I know

I have suffered for my opinion--I have been treated cruelly by my

aunt, as well as by my father; but that is now past--I beg I may not

be farther pressed; for, whatever hath been, my resolution is now

fixed. Your nephew, sir, hath many virtues--he hath great virtues, Mr

Allworthy. I question not but he will do you honour in the world, and

make you happy.”--“I wish I could make him so, madam,” replied

Allworthy; “but that I am convinced is only in your power. It is that

conviction which hath made me so earnest a solicitor in his favour.”

“You are deceived indeed, sir; you are deceived,” said Sophia. “I

hope not by him. It is sufficient to have deceived me. Mr Allworthy,

I must insist on being pressed no farther on this subject. I should

be sorry--nay, I will not injure him in your favour. I wish Mr Jones

very well. I sincerely wish him well; and I repeat it again to you,

whatever demerit he may have to me, I am certain he hath many good

qualities. I do not disown my former thoughts; but nothing can ever

recal them. At present there is not a man upon earth whom I would

more resolutely reject than Mr Jones; nor would the addresses of Mr

Blifil himself be less agreeable to me.”

Western had been long impatient for the event of this conference, and

was just now arrived at the door to listen; when, having heard the

last sentiments of his daughter's heart, he lost all temper, and,

bursting open the door in a rage, cried out--“It is a lie! It is a

d--n'd lie! It is all owing to that d--n'd rascal Jones; and if she

could get at un, she'd ha un any hour of the day.” Here Allworthy

interposed, and addressing himself to the squire with some anger in

his look, he said, “Mr Western, you have not kept your word with me.

You promised to abstain from all violence.”--“Why, so I did,” cries

Western, “as long as it was possible; but to hear a wench telling such

confounded lies----Zounds! doth she think, if she can make vools of

other volk, she can make one of me?--No, no, I know her better than

thee dost.” “I am sorry to tell you, sir,” answered Allworthy, “it

doth not appear, by your behaviour to this young lady, that you know

her at all. I ask pardon for what I say: but I think our intimacy,

your own desires, and the occasion justify me. She is your daughter,

Mr Western, and I think she doth honour to your name. If I was capable

of envy, I should sooner envy you on this account than any other man

whatever.”--“Odrabbit it!” cries the squire, “I wish she was thine,

with all my heart--wouldst soon be glad to be rid of the trouble o'

her.” “Indeed, my good friend,” answered Allworthy, “you yourself are

the cause of all the trouble you complain of. Place that confidence in

the young lady which she so well deserves, and I am certain you will

be the happiest father on earth.”--“I confidence in her?” cries the

squire. “'Sblood! what confidence can I place in her, when she won't

do as I would ha' her? Let her gi' but her consent to marry as I would

ha' her, and I'll place as much confidence in her as wouldst ha'

me.”--“You have no right, neighbour,” answered Allworthy, “to insist

on any such consent. A negative voice your daughter allows you, and

God and nature have thought proper to allow you no more.”--“A negative

voice!” cries the squire, “Ay! ay! I'll show you what a negative voice

I ha.--Go along, go into your chamber, go, you stubborn----.” “Indeed,

Mr Western,” said Allworthy, “indeed you use her cruelly--I cannot

bear to see this--you shall, you must behave to her in a kinder

manner. She deserves the best of treatment.” “Yes, yes,” said the

squire, “I know what she deserves: now she's gone, I'll shew you what

she deserves. See here, sir, here is a letter from my cousin, my Lady

Bellaston, in which she is so kind to gi' me to understand that the

fellow is got out of prison again; and here she advises me to take all

the care I can o' the wench. Odzookers! neighbour Allworthy, you don't

know what it is to govern a daughter.”

The squire ended his speech with some compliments to his own sagacity;

and then Allworthy, after a formal preface, acquainted him with the

whole discovery which he had made concerning Jones, with his anger to

Blifil, and with every particular which hath been disclosed to the

reader in the preceding chapters.

Men over-violent in their dispositions are, for the most part, as

changeable in them. No sooner then was Western informed of Mr

Allworthy's intention to make Jones his heir, than he joined heartily

with the uncle in every commendation of the nephew, and became as

eager for her marriage with Jones as he had before been to couple her

to Blifil.

Here Mr Allworthy was again forced to interpose, and to relate what

had passed between him and Sophia, at which he testified great

surprize.

The squire was silent a moment, and looked wild with astonishment at

this account.--At last he cried out, “Why, what can be the meaning of

this, neighbour Allworthy? Vond o'un she was, that I'll be sworn

to.----Odzookers! I have hit o't. As sure as a gun I have hit o' the

very right o't. It's all along o' zister. The girl hath got a

hankering after this son of a whore of a lord. I vound 'em together at

my cousin my Lady Bellaston's. He hath turned the head o' her, that's

certain--but d--n me if he shall ha her--I'll ha no lords nor

courtiers in my vamily.”

Allworthy now made a long speech, in which he repeated his resolution

to avoid all violent measures, and very earnestly recommended gentle

methods to Mr Western, as those by which he might be assured of

succeeding best with his daughter. He then took his leave, and

returned back to Mrs Miller, but was forced to comply with the earnest

entreaties of the squire, in promising to bring Mr Jones to visit him

that afternoon, that he might, as he said, “make all matters up with

the young gentleman.” At Mr Allworthy's departure, Western promised to

follow his advice in his behaviour to Sophia, saying, “I don't know

how 'tis, but d--n me, Allworthy, if you don't make me always do just

as you please; and yet I have as good an estate as you, and am in the

commission of the peace as well as yourself.”