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

Containing some matters which may affect, and others which may surprise, the reader.

The clock had now struck seven, and poor Sophia, alone and melancholy, sat reading a tragedy. It was the Fatal Marriage; and she was now come to that part where the poor distressed Isabella disposes of her wedding-ring.

Here the book dropped from her hand, and a shower of tears ran down into her bosom. In this situation she had continued a minute, when the door opened, and in came Lord Fellamar. Sophia started from her chair at his entrance; and his lordship advancing forwards, and making a low bow, said, “I am afraid, Miss Western, I break in upon you abruptly.”⁠—“Indeed, my lord,” says she, “I must own myself a little surprised at this unexpected visit.”⁠—“If this visit be unexpected, madam,” answered Lord Fellamar, “my eyes must have been very faithless interpreters of my heart, when last I had the honour of seeing you; for surely you could not otherwise have hoped to detain my heart in your possession, without receiving a visit from its owner.” Sophia, confused as she was, answered this bombast (and very properly I think) with a look of inconceivable disdain. My lord then made another and a longer speech of the same sort. Upon which Sophia, trembling, said, “Am I really to conceive your lordship to be out of your senses? Sure, my lord, there is no other excuse for such behaviour.”⁠—“I am, indeed, madam, in the situation you suppose,” cries his lordship; “and sure you will pardon the effects of a frenzy which you yourself have occasioned; for love hath so totally deprived me of reason, that I am scarce accountable for any of my actions.”⁠—“Upon my word, my lord,” said Sophia, “I neither understand your words nor your behaviour.”⁠—“Suffer me then, madam,” cries he, “at your feet to explain both, by laying open my soul to you, and declaring that I dote on you to the highest degree of distraction. O most adorable, most divine creature! what language can express the sentiments of my heart?”⁠—“I do assure you, my lord,” said Sophia, “I shall not stay to hear any more of this.”⁠—“Do not,” cries he, “think of leaving me thus cruelly; could you know half the torments which I feel, that tender bosom must pity what those eyes have caused.” Then fetching a deep sigh, and laying hold of her hand, he ran on for some minutes in a strain which would be little more pleasing to the reader than it was to the lady; and at last concluded with a declaration, “That if he was master of the world, he would lay it at her feet.” Sophia then, forcibly pulling away her hand from his, answered with much spirit, “I promise you, sir, your world and its master I should spurn from me with equal contempt.” She then offered to go; and Lord Fellamar, again laying hold of her hand, said, “Pardon me, my beloved angel, freedoms which nothing but despair could have tempted me to take.⁠—Believe me, could I have had any hope that my title and fortune, neither of them inconsiderable, unless when compared with your worth, would have been accepted, I had, in the humblest manner, presented them to your acceptance.⁠—But I cannot lose you. By Heaven, I will sooner part with my soul! You are, you must, you shall be only mine.”⁠—“My lord,” says she, “I entreat you to desist from a vain pursuit; for, upon my honour, I will never hear you on this subject. Let go my hand, my lord; for I am resolved to go from you this moment; nor will I ever see you more.”⁠—“Then, madam,” cries his lordship, “I must make the best use of this moment; for I cannot live, nor will I live without you.”⁠—“What do you mean, my lord?” said Sophia; “I will raise the family.”⁠—“I have no fear, madam,” answered he, “but of losing you, and that I am resolved to prevent, the only way which despair points to me.” He then caught her in his arms: upon which she screamed so loud, that she must have alarmed someone to her assistance, had not Lady Bellaston taken care to remove all ears.

But a more lucky circumstance happened for poor Sophia; another noise now broke forth, which almost drowned her cries; for now the whole house rang with, “Where is she? D⁠⸺⁠n me, I’ll unkennel her this instant. Show me her chamber, I say. Where is my daughter? I know she’s in the house, and I’ll see her if she’s aboveground. Show me where she is.” At which last words the door flew open, and in came Squire Western, with his parson and a set of myrmidons at his heels.

How miserable must have been the condition of poor Sophia, when the enraged voice of her father was welcome to her ears! Welcome indeed it was, and luckily did he come; for it was the only accident upon earth which could have preserved the peace of her mind from being forever destroyed.

Sophia, notwithstanding her fright, presently knew her father’s voice; and his lordship, notwithstanding his passion, knew the voice of reason, which peremptorily assured him, it was not now a time for the perpetration of his villainy. Hearing, therefore, the voice approach, and hearing likewise whose it was (for as the squire more than once roared forth the word daughter, so Sophia, in the midst of her struggling, cried out upon her father), he thought proper to relinquish his prey, having only disordered her handkerchief, and with his rude lips committed violence on her lovely neck.

If the reader’s imagination doth not assist me, I shall never be able to describe the situation of these two persons when Western came into the room. Sophia tottered into a chair, where she sat disordered, pale, breathless, bursting with indignation at Lord Fellamar; affrighted, and yet more rejoiced, at the arrival of her father.

His lordship sat down