The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, Henry Fielding [best ereader under 100 TXT] 📗

fury, we may suspect that mischievous passion to be at work privately, and attempting to undermine, what it doth not attack aboveground.

This was exemplified in the conduct of Lady Bellaston, who, under all the smiles which she wore in her countenance, concealed much indignation against Sophia; and as she plainly saw that this young lady stood between her and the full indulgence of her desires, she resolved to get rid of her by some means or other; nor was it long before a very favourable opportunity of accomplishing this presented itself to her.

The reader may be pleased to remember, that when Sophia was thrown into that consternation at the playhouse, by the wit and humour of a set of young gentlemen who call themselves the town, we informed him that she had put herself under the protection of a young nobleman, who had very safely conducted her to her chair.

This nobleman, who frequently visited Lady Bellaston, had more than once seen Sophia there, since her arrival in town, and had conceived a very great liking to her; which liking, as beauty never looks more amiable than in distress, Sophia had in this fright so increased, that he might now, without any great impropriety, be said to be actually in love with her.

It may easily be believed, that he would not suffer so handsome an occasion of improving his acquaintance with the beloved object as now offered itself to elapse, when even good breeding alone might have prompted him to pay her a visit.

The next morning therefore, after this accident, he waited on Sophia, with the usual compliments, and hopes that she had received no harm from her last night’s adventure.

As love, like fire, when once thoroughly kindled, is soon blown into a flame, Sophia in a very short time completed her conquest. Time now flew away unperceived, and the noble lord had been two hours in company with the lady, before it entered into his head that he had made too long a visit. Though this circumstance alone would have alarmed Sophia, who was somewhat more a mistress of computation at present; she had indeed much more pregnant evidence from the eyes of her lover of what passed within his bosom; nay, though he did not make any open declaration of his passion, yet many of his expressions were rather too warm, and too tender, to have been imputed to complaisance, even in the age when such complaisance was in fashion; the very reverse of which is well known to be the reigning mode at present.

Lady Bellaston had been apprised of his lordship’s visit at his first arrival; and the length of it very well satisfied her, that things went as she wished, and as indeed she had suspected the second time she saw this young couple together. This business she rightly, I think, concluded that she should by no means forward by mixing in the company while they were together; she therefore ordered her servants, that when my lord was going, they should tell him she desired to speak with him; and employed the intermediate time in meditating how best to accomplish a scheme which she made no doubt but his lordship would very readily embrace the execution of.

Lord Fellamar (for that was the title of this young nobleman) was no sooner introduced to her ladyship, than she attacked him in the following strain: “Bless me, my lord, are you here yet? I thought my servants had made a mistake, and let you go away; and I wanted to see you about an affair of some importance.”⁠—“Indeed, Lady Bellaston,” said he, “I don’t wonder you are astonished at the length of my visit; for I have stayed above two hours, and I did not think I had stayed above half a one.”⁠—“What am I to conclude from thence, my lord?” said she. “The company must be very agreeable which can make time slide away so very deceitfully.”⁠—“Upon my honour,” said he, “the most agreeable I ever saw. Pray tell me, Lady Bellaston, who is this blazing star which you have produced among us all of a sudden?”⁠—“What blazing star, my lord?” said she, affecting a surprise.⁠—“I mean,” said he, “the lady I saw here the other day, whom I had last night in my arms at the playhouse, and to whom I have been making that unreasonable visit.”⁠—“Oh, my cousin Western!” said she; “why, that blazing star, my lord, is the daughter of a country booby squire, and hath been in town about a fortnight, for the first time.”⁠—“Upon my soul,” said he, “I should swear she had been bred up in a court; for besides her beauty, I never saw anything so genteel, so sensible, so polite.”⁠—“O brave!” cries the lady, “my cousin hath you, I find.”⁠—“Upon my honour,” answered he, “I wish she had; for I am in love with her to distraction.”⁠—“Nay, my lord,” said she, “it is not wishing yourself very ill neither, for she is a very great fortune: I assure you she is an only child, and her father’s estate is a good £3,000 a year.”⁠—“Then I can assure you, madam,” answered the lord, “I think her the best match in England.”⁠—“Indeed, my lord,” replied she, “if you like her, I heartily wish you had her.”⁠—“If you think so kindly of me, madam,” said he, “as she is a relation of yours, will you do me the honour to propose it to her father?”⁠—“And are you really then in earnest?” cries the lady, with an affected gravity.⁠—“I hope, madam,” answered he, “you have a better opinion of me, than to imagine I would jest with your ladyship in an affair of this kind.”⁠—“Indeed, then,” said the lady, “I will most readily propose your lordship to her father; and I can, I believe, assure you of his joyful acceptance of the proposal; but there is a bar, which I am almost ashamed to mention; and yet it is one you will never be able