Chapter v.

In which is related what passed between Sophia and her aunt.

Sophia was in her chamber, reading, when her aunt came in. The moment

she saw Mrs Western, she shut the book with so much eagerness, that

the good lady could not forbear asking her, What book that was which

she seemed so much afraid of showing? “Upon my word, madam,” answered

Sophia, “it is a book which I am neither ashamed nor afraid to own I

have read. It is the production of a young lady of fashion, whose good

understanding, I think, doth honour to her sex, and whose good heart

is an honour to human nature.” Mrs Western then took up the book, and

immediately after threw it down, saying--“Yes, the author is of a very

good family; but she is not much among people one knows. I have never

read it; for the best judges say, there is not much in it.”--“I dare

not, madam, set up my own opinion,” says Sophia, “against the best

judges, but there appears to me a great deal of human nature in it;

and in many parts so much true tenderness and delicacy, that it hath

cost me many a tear.”--“Ay, and do you love to cry then?” says the

aunt. “I love a tender sensation,” answered the niece, “and would pay

the price of a tear for it at any time.”--“Well, but show me,” said

the aunt, “what was you reading when I came in; there was something

very tender in that, I believe, and very loving too. You blush, my

dear Sophia. Ah! child, you should read books which would teach you a

little hypocrisy, which would instruct you how to hide your thoughts a

little better.”--“I hope, madam,” answered Sophia, “I have no thoughts

which I ought to be ashamed of discovering.”--“Ashamed! no,” cries the

aunt, “I don't think you have any thoughts which you ought to be

ashamed of; and yet, child, you blushed just now when I mentioned the

word loving. Dear Sophy, be assured you have not one thought which I

am not well acquainted with; as well, child, as the French are with

our motions, long before we put them in execution. Did you think,

child, because you have been able to impose upon your father, that you

could impose upon me? Do you imagine I did not know the reason of your

overacting all that friendship for Mr Blifil yesterday? I have seen a

little too much of the world, to be so deceived. Nay, nay, do not

blush again. I tell you it is a passion you need not be ashamed of. It

is a passion I myself approve, and have already brought your father

into the approbation of it. Indeed, I solely consider your

inclination; for I would always have that gratified, if possible,

though one may sacrifice higher prospects. Come, I have news which

will delight your very soul. Make me your confident, and I will

undertake you shall be happy to the very extent of your wishes.” “La,

madam,” says Sophia, looking more foolishly than ever she did in her

life, “I know not what to say--why, madam, should you suspect?”--“Nay,

no dishonesty,” returned Mrs Western. “Consider, you are speaking to

one of your own sex, to an aunt, and I hope you are convinced you

speak to a friend. Consider, you are only revealing to me what I know

already, and what I plainly saw yesterday, through that most artful of

all disguises, which you had put on, and which must have deceived any

one who had not perfectly known the world. Lastly, consider it is a

passion which I highly approve.” “La, madam,” says Sophia, “you come

upon one so unawares, and on a sudden. To be sure, madam, I am not

blind--and certainly, if it be a fault to see all human perfections

assembled together--but is it possible my father and you, madam, can

see with my eyes?” “I tell you,” answered the aunt, “we do entirely

approve; and this very afternoon your father hath appointed for you to

receive your lover.” “My father, this afternoon!” cries Sophia, with

the blood starting from her face.--“Yes, child,” said the aunt, “this

afternoon. You know the impetuosity of my brother's temper. I

acquainted him with the passion which I first discovered in you that

evening when you fainted away in the field. I saw it in your fainting.

I saw it immediately upon your recovery. I saw it that evening at

supper, and the next morning at breakfast (you know, child, I have

seen the world). Well, I no sooner acquainted my brother, but he

immediately wanted to propose it to Allworthy. He proposed it

yesterday, Allworthy consented (as to be sure he must with joy), and

this afternoon, I tell you, you are to put on all your best airs.”

“This afternoon!” cries Sophia. “Dear aunt, you frighten me out of my

senses.” “O, my dear,” said the aunt, “you will soon come to yourself

again; for he is a charming young fellow, that's the truth on't.”

“Nay, I will own,” says Sophia, “I know none with such perfections. So

brave, and yet so gentle; so witty, yet so inoffensive; so humane, so

civil, so genteel, so handsome! What signifies his being base born,

when compared with such qualifications as these?” “Base born? What do

you mean?” said the aunt, “Mr Blifil base born!” Sophia turned

instantly pale at this name, and faintly repeated it. Upon which the

aunt cried, “Mr Blifil--ay, Mr Blifil, of whom else have we been

talking?” “Good heavens,” answered Sophia, ready to sink, “of Mr

Jones, I thought; I am sure I know no other who deserves--” “I

protest,” cries the aunt, “you frighten me in your turn. Is it Mr

Jones, and not Mr Blifil, who is the object of your affection?” “Mr

Blifil!” repeated Sophia. “Sure it is impossible you can be in

earnest; if you are, I am the most miserable woman alive.” Mrs Western

now stood a few moments silent, while sparks of fiery rage flashed

from her eyes. At length, collecting all her force of voice, she

thundered forth in the following articulate sounds:

“And is it possible you can think of disgracing your family by allying

yourself to a bastard? Can the blood of the Westerns submit to such

contamination? If you have not sense sufficient to restrain such

monstrous inclinations, I thought the pride of our family would have

prevented you from giving the least encouragement to so base an

affection; much less did I imagine you would ever have had the

assurance to own it to my face.”

“Madam,” answered Sophia, trembling, “what I have said you have

extorted from me. I do not remember to have ever mentioned the name of

Mr Jones with approbation to any one before; nor should I now had I

not conceived he had your approbation. Whatever were my thoughts of

that poor, unhappy young man, I intended to have carried them with me

to my grave--to that grave where only now, I find, I am to seek

repose.” Here she sunk down in her chair, drowned in her tears, and,

in all the moving silence of unutterable grief, presented a spectacle

which must have affected almost the hardest heart.

All this tender sorrow, however, raised no compassion in her aunt. On

the contrary, she now fell into the most violent rage.--“And I would

rather,” she cried, in a most vehement voice, “follow you to your

grave, than I would see you disgrace yourself and your family by such

a match. O Heavens! could I have ever suspected that I should live to

hear a niece of mine declare a passion for such a fellow? You are the

first--yes, Miss Western, you are the first of your name who ever

entertained so grovelling a thought. A family so noted for the

prudence of its women”--here she ran on a full quarter of an hour,

till, having exhausted her breath rather than her rage, she concluded

with threatening to go immediately and acquaint her brother.

Sophia then threw herself at her feet, and laying hold of her hands,

begged her with tears to conceal what she had drawn from her; urging

the violence of her father's temper, and protesting that no

inclinations of hers should ever prevail with her to do anything which

might offend him.

Mrs Western stood a moment looking at her, and then, having

recollected herself, said, “That on one consideration only she would

keep the secret from her brother; and this was, that Sophia should

promise to entertain Mr Blifil that very afternoon as her lover, and

to regard him as the person who was to be her husband.”

Poor Sophia was too much in her aunt's power to deny her anything

positively; she was obliged to promise that she would see Mr Blifil,

and be as civil to him as possible; but begged her aunt that the match

might not be hurried on. She said, “Mr Blifil was by no means

agreeable to her, and she hoped her father would be prevailed on not

to make her the most wretched of women.”

Mrs Western assured her, “That the match was entirely agreed upon, and

that nothing could or should prevent it. I must own,” said she, “I

looked on it as on a matter of indifference; nay, perhaps, had some

scruples about it before, which were actually got over by my thinking

it highly agreeable to your own inclinations; but now I regard it as

the most eligible thing in the world: nor shall there be, if I can

prevent it, a moment of time lost on the occasion.”

Sophia replied, “Delay at least, madam, I may expect from both your

goodness and my father's. Surely you will give me time to endeavour to

get the better of so strong a disinclination as I have at present to

this person.”

The aunt answered, “She knew too much of the world to be so deceived;

that as she was sensible another man had her affections, she should

persuade Mr Western to hasten the match as much as possible. It would

be bad politics, indeed,” added she, “to protract a siege when the

enemy's army is at hand, and in danger of relieving it. No, no,

Sophy,” said she, “as I am convinced you have a violent passion which

you can never satisfy with honour, I will do all I can to put your

honour out of the care of your family: for when you are married those

matters will belong only to the consideration of your husband. I hope,

child, you will always have prudence enough to act as becomes you; but

if you should not, marriage hath saved many a woman from ruin.”

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.