« PreviousContinue »
What happened to Sophia during her Confinement, THE landlady of the house where the 'squire lodged, had begun very early to entertain a strange opinion of her guests. However, as she was informed that the 'squire was a man of vast fortune, and as she had taken care to exact a very extraordinary price for her rooms, she did not think
proper to give any offence; for though she was not without some concern for the confinement of
Sophia, of whose great sweetness of temper and affability the maid of the house had made so favourable a report, which was confirmed by all the squire's servants, yet she had much more concern for her own interest, than to provoke one, whom, as she said, she perceived to be a very hastish kind of a gentleman.
Though Sophia cat but little, yet she was regularly served with her meals; indeed, I believe, if she had liked any one rarity, that the 'squire, however angry, would have spared neither pains nor cost to have procured it for her; since, however strange it
may appear to some of my readers, he really doated on his daughter, and to give her any kind of pleasure was the highest satisfaction of his life.
The dinner hour being arrived, Black George carried her up a pullet, the 'squire himself (for he had sworn not to part with the key) attending the door. As George deposited the dish, some compliments passed between him and Sophia (for he had not seen her since she left the country, and she treated every servant with more respect than some persons shew to those who are in a very slight degree their inferiors) Sophia would have had him take the pullet back, saying, she could „pot eat; but George begged her to try, and par
ticularly recommended to her the eggs, of which he said it was full.
All this time the 'squire was waiting at the door; but George was a great favourite with his master, as his employment was in concerns of the highest nature, namely, about the game, and was accustomed to take many liberties. He had officiously carried up the dinner, being, as he said, very de
, sirous to see his young lady; he made therefore no scruple of keeping his master standing above ten minutes, while civilities were passing between him and Sophia, for which he received only a goodliumoured rebuke at the door when he returned.
The eggs of pullets, partridges, pheasants, &c. were, as George well knew, the most favourite dainties of Sophia. It was therefore no wonder, that he, who was a very good-natured fellow, should take care to supply her with this kind of delicacy, at a time when all the servants in the house were afraid she would be starved; for she had scarce swallowed a single morsel in the last forty hours.
Though vexation hath not the same effect on all persons, as it usually hath on a widow, whose appetite it often renders sharper than it can be rendered by the air on Bansted Downs, or Salisbury Plain; yet the sublimest grief, notwithstanding what some people may say to the contrary, will eat at last. And Sophia herself, after some little consideration, began to dissect the fowl, which she found to be as full of eggs as George had reported it.
But if she was pleased with these, it contained something which would have delighted the Royal Society much more; for if a fowl with three legs be so invaluable a curiosity, when perhaps time hath produced a thousand such, at what price shall we esteem a bird which so totally contradicts all the laws of animal economy, as to contain a letter in its belly? Ovid tells us of a flower
into which Hyacinthus was metamorphosed, that bears letters on its leaves, which Virgil recommended as a miracle to the Royal Society of his day; but no age nor nation hath ever recorded a bird with a letter in its maw.
But though a miracle of this kind might have engaged all the Academies des Sciences in Europe, and perhaps in a fruitless inquiry; yet the reader, by barely recollecting the last dialogue which passed between Messieurs Jones and Partridge, will be very easily satisfied from whence this letter came, and how it found its passage into the fowl.
, Sophia, notwithstanding her long fast, and notwithstanding her favourite dish was there before her, no sooner saw the letter than she immediately snatched it up, tore it open, and read as follows: ,
MADAM, Was I not sensible to whom I have the honour ' of writing, I should endeavour, however difficult, to paint the horrors of my mind, at the account brought me by Mrs. Honour; but as tenderness
alone can have any true idea of the pangs which ' tenderness is capable of feeling; so can this most ( amiable quality which my Sophia possesses in the most eminent degree, sufficiently inform her what her Jones must have suffered on this melancholy occasion. Is there a circumstance in the world which can heighten my agonies, when I hear of
any misfortune which hath befallen you? Surely 'there is one only, and with that. I am accursed. ' It is, niy Sophia, the dreadful consideration that 'I am myself the wretched cause. Perhaps I here
do myself too much honour, but none will envy ' me an honour which costs me so extremely dear. Pardon me this presumption, and pardon me a greater still
, if I ask you, whether my advice, my assistance, my presence, my absence, my ' death, or my tortures can bring you any relief?
Can the most perfect admiration, the most watch'ful observance, the most ardent love, the most
melting tenderness, the most resigned submission 'to your will, make you amends for what you are 'to sacrifice to my happiness? If they can, fly, my ' lovely angel, to those arms which are ever open 'to receive and protect you ; and to which,
whether you bring yourself alone, or the riches * of the world with you, is, in my opinion, an alter' * native not worth regarding. If, on the contrary, 'wisdom shall predominate, and, on the most ma'ture reflection, inform you, that the sacrifice is too great;
and if there be no way left to recon‘cile your father, and restore the peace of your * dear mind, but by abandoning me, I conjure you • drive me for ever from your thoughts, exert your * resolution, and let no compassion for my suffer
ings bear the least weight in tliat tender bosom. · Believe me, Madam, I so sincerely love you better 'than myself, that my great and principal end is
your happiness. My first wish (why would not - fortune indulge me in it?) was, and pardon me if I say, still is, to see you every moment the happiest of women; my second wish is, to hear
you are so; but no misery on earth can equal mine, · while I think you owe an uneasy moment to him 6 who is,
· THOMAS JONES.
What Sophia said, or did, or thought upon this letter, how often she read it, or whether more than once, shall all be left to our reader's imagination. The answer to it he may perhaps see hereafter, but not at present; for this reason, among others, that she did not now write any, and that for several good causes, one of which was this, she had no paper, pen, nor ink.
In the evening, while Sophia was meditating on the letter she had received, or on something else, a violent noise from below disturbed her meditations. This noise was no other than a round bout at altercation between two persons. One of the combatants, by his voice, she immediately distinguished to be her father, but she did not so soon discover the shriller pipes to belong to the organ of her aunt Western, who was just arrived in town, where having, by means of one of her servants, who stopt at the Hercules Pillars, learnt where her brother lodged, she drove directly to his lodgings.
We shall therefore take our leave at present of Sophia, and with our usual good-breeding, attend her ladyship.
In which Sophia is delivered from her Confinement. THE 'squire and the parson (for the landlord was now otherwise engaged) were smoking their pipes together, when the arrival of the lady was first signified. The 'squire no sooner heard her name, 'than he immediately ran down to usher her up stairs; for he was a great observer of such ceremonials, especially to his sister, of whom he stood more in awe than of any other human creature, though he never would own this, nor did he perhaps know it himself.
Mrs. Western on her arrival in the dining-room, having flung herself into a chair, began thus to harangue: "Well, surely, no one ever had such an * intolerable journey. I think the roads, since so many turnpike acts, are grown worse than ever. La, brother, how could you get into this odious place? no person of condition, I dare swear, ever set foot here before.' 'I don't know,' cries the