Chapter xiii.

A dreadful accident which befel Sophia. The gallant behaviour of

Jones, and the more dreadful consequence of that behaviour to the

young lady; with a short digression in favour of the female sex.

Mr Western grew every day fonder and fonder of Sophia, insomuch that

his beloved dogs themselves almost gave place to her in his

affections; but as he could not prevail on himself to abandon these,

he contrived very cunningly to enjoy their company, together with that

of his daughter, by insisting on her riding a hunting with him.

Sophia, to whom her father's word was a law, readily complied with his

desires, though she had not the least delight in a sport, which was of

too rough and masculine a nature to suit with her disposition. She had

however another motive, beside her obedience, to accompany the old

gentleman in the chase; for by her presence she hoped in some measure

to restrain his impetuosity, and to prevent him from so frequently

exposing his neck to the utmost hazard.

The strongest objection was that which would have formerly been an

inducement to her, namely, the frequent meeting with young Jones, whom

she had determined to avoid; but as the end of the hunting season now

approached, she hoped, by a short absence with her aunt, to reason

herself entirely out of her unfortunate passion; and had not any doubt

of being able to meet him in the field the subsequent season without

the least danger.

On the second day of her hunting, as she was returning from the chase,

and was arrived within a little distance from Mr Western's house, her

horse, whose mettlesome spirit required a better rider, fell suddenly

to prancing and capering in such a manner that she was in the most

imminent peril of falling. Tom Jones, who was at a little distance

behind, saw this, and immediately galloped up to her assistance. As

soon as he came up, he leapt from his own horse, and caught hold of

hers by the bridle. The unruly beast presently reared himself an end

on his hind legs, and threw his lovely burthen from his back, and

Jones caught her in his arms.

She was so affected with the fright, that she was not immediately able

to satisfy Jones, who was very solicitous to know whether she had

received any hurt. She soon after, however, recovered her spirits,

assured him she was safe, and thanked him for the care he had taken of

her. Jones answered, “If I have preserved you, madam, I am

sufficiently repaid; for I promise you, I would have secured you from

the least harm at the expense of a much greater misfortune to myself

than I have suffered on this occasion.”

“What misfortune?” replied Sophia eagerly; “I hope you have come to no

mischief?”

“Be not concerned, madam,” answered Jones. “Heaven be praised you have

escaped so well, considering the danger you was in. If I have broke my

arm, I consider it as a trifle, in comparison of what I feared upon

your account.”

Sophia then screamed out, “Broke your arm! Heaven forbid.”

“I am afraid I have, madam,” says Jones: “but I beg you will suffer me

first to take care of you. I have a right hand yet at your service, to

help you into the next field, whence we have but a very little walk to

your father's house.”

Sophia seeing his left arm dangling by his side, while he was using

the other to lead her, no longer doubted of the truth. She now grew

much paler than her fears for herself had made her before. All her

limbs were seized with a trembling, insomuch that Jones could scarce

support her; and as her thoughts were in no less agitation, she could

not refrain from giving Jones a look so full of tenderness, that it

almost argued a stronger sensation in her mind, than even gratitude

and pity united can raise in the gentlest female bosom, without the

assistance of a third more powerful passion.

Mr Western, who was advanced at some distance when this accident

happened, was now returned, as were the rest of the horsemen. Sophia

immediately acquainted them with what had befallen Jones, and begged

them to take care of him. Upon which Western, who had been much

alarmed by meeting his daughter's horse without its rider, and was now

overjoyed to find her unhurt, cried out, “I am glad it is no worse. If

Tom hath broken his arm, we will get a joiner to mend un again.”

The squire alighted from his horse, and proceeded to his house on

foot, with his daughter and Jones. An impartial spectator, who had met

them on the way, would, on viewing their several countenances, have

concluded Sophia alone to have been the object of compassion: for as

to Jones, he exulted in having probably saved the life of the young

lady, at the price only of a broken bone; and Mr Western, though he

was not unconcerned at the accident which had befallen Jones, was,

however, delighted in a much higher degree with the fortunate escape

of his daughter.

The generosity of Sophia's temper construed this behaviour of Jones

into great bravery; and it made a deep impression on her heart: for

certain it is, that there is no one quality which so generally

recommends men to women as this; proceeding, if we believe the common

opinion, from that natural timidity of the sex, which is, says Mr

Osborne, “so great, that a woman is the most cowardly of all the

creatures God ever made;”--a sentiment more remarkable for its

bluntness than for its truth. Aristotle, in his Politics, doth them, I

believe, more justice, when he says, “The modesty and fortitude of men

differ from those virtues in women; for the fortitude which becomes a

woman, would be cowardice in a man; and the modesty which becomes a

man, would be pertness in a woman.” Nor is there, perhaps, more of

truth in the opinion of those who derive the partiality which women

are inclined to show to the brave, from this excess of their fear. Mr

Bayle (I think, in his article of Helen) imputes this, and with

greater probability, to their violent love of glory; for the truth of

which, we have the authority of him who of all others saw farthest

into human nature, and who introduces the heroine of his Odyssey, the

great pattern of matrimonial love and constancy, assigning the glory

of her husband as the only source of her affection towards him.[*]

[*] The English reader will not find this in the poem; for the

sentiment is entirely left out in the translation.

However this be, certain it is that the accident operated very

strongly on Sophia; and, indeed, after much enquiry into the matter, I

am inclined to believe, that, at this very time, the charming Sophia

made no less impression on the heart of Jones; to say truth, he had

for some time become sensible of the irresistible power of her charms.