The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling Henry Fielding (ebook reader android .TXT) 📖

was at the bottom of the stairs, and grew louder and louder as he was more and more remote, they did not reach his ears, or at least did not retard his departure.

Poor Sophia, however, who, in her prison, heard all her father’s outcries from first to last, began now first to thunder with her foot, and afterwards to scream as loudly as the old gentleman himself had done before, though in a much sweeter voice. These screams soon silenced the squire, and turned all his consideration towards his daughter, whom he loved so tenderly, that the least apprehension of any harm happening to her, threw him presently into agonies; for, except in that single instance in which the whole future happiness of her life was concerned, she was sovereign mistress of his inclinations.

Having ended his rage against the captain, with swearing he would take the law of him, the squire now mounted upstairs to Sophia, whom, as soon as he had unlocked and opened the door, he found all pale and breathless. The moment, however, that she saw her father, she collected all her spirits, and, catching him hold by the hand, she cried passionately, “O my dear sir, I am almost frightened to death! I hope to Heaven no harm hath happened to you.”⁠—“No, no,” cries the squire, “no great harm. The rascal hath not hurt me much, but rat me if I don’t ha the la o’ un.”⁠—“Pray, dear sir,” says she, “tell me what’s the matter; who is it that hath insulted you?”⁠—“I don’t know the name o’ un,” answered Western; “some officer fellow, I suppose, that we are to pay for beating us; but I’ll make him pay this bout, if the rascal hath got anything, which I suppose he hath not. For thof he was dressed out so vine, I question whether he had got a voot of land in the world.”⁠—“But, dear sir,” cries she, “what was the occasion of your quarrel?”⁠—“What should it be, Sophy,” answered the squire, “but about you, Sophy? All my misfortunes are about you; you will be the death of your poor father at last. Here’s a varlet of a lord, the Lord knows who, forsooth! who hath a taan a liking to you, and because I would not gi un my consent, he sent me a kallenge. Come, do be a good girl, Sophy, and put an end to all your father’s troubles; come, do consent to ha un; he will be in town within this day or two; do but promise me to marry un as soon as he comes, and you will make me the happiest man in the world, and I will make you the happiest woman; you shall have the finest clothes in London, and the finest jewels, and a coach and six at your command. I promised Allworthy already to give up half my estate⁠—odrabbet it! I should hardly stick at giving up the whole.”⁠—“Will my papa be so kind,” says she, “as to hear me speak?”⁠—“Why wout ask, Sophy?” cries he, “when dost know I had rather hear thy voice than the music of the best pack of dogs in England. Hear thee, my dear little girl! I hope I shall hear thee as long as I live; for if I was ever to lose that pleasure, I would not gee a brass varden to live a moment longer. Indeed, Sophy, you do not know how I love you, indeed you don’t, or you never could have run away and left your poor father, who hath no other joy, no other comfort upon earth, but his little Sophy.” At these words the tears stood in his eyes; and Sophia (with the tears streaming from hers) answered, “Indeed, my dear papa, I know you have loved me tenderly, and Heaven is my witness how sincerely I have returned your affection; nor could anything but an apprehension of being forced into the arms of this man have driven me to run from a father whom I love so passionately, that I would, with pleasure, sacrifice my life to his happiness; nay, I have endeavoured to reason myself into doing more, and had almost worked up a resolution to endure the most miserable of all lives, to comply with your inclination. It was that resolution alone to which I could not force my mind; nor can I ever.” Here the squire began to look wild, and the foam appeared at his lips, which Sophia, observing, begged to be heard out, and then proceeded: “If my father’s life, his health, or any real happiness of his was at stake, here stands your resolved daughter; may Heaven blast me if there is a misery I would not suffer to preserve you!⁠—No, that most detested, most loathsome of all lots would I embrace. I would give my hand to Blifil for your sake.”⁠—“I tell thee, it will preserve me,” answers the father; “it will give me health, happiness, life, everything. Upon my soul I shall die if dost refuse me; I shall break my heart, I shall, upon my soul.”⁠—“Is it possible,” says she, “you can have such a desire to make me miserable?”⁠—“I tell thee noa,” answered he loudly, “d⁠⸺⁠n me if there is a thing upon earth I would not do to see thee happy.”⁠—“And will not my dear papa allow me to have the least knowledge of what will make me so? If it be true that happiness consists in opinion, what must be my condition, when I shall think myself the most miserable of all the wretches upon earth?”⁠—“Better think yourself so,” said he, “than know it by being married to a poor bastardly vagabond.”⁠—“If it will content you, sir,” said Sophia, “I will give you the most solemn promise never to marry him, nor any other, while my papa lives, without his consent. Let me dedicate my whole life to your service; let me be again your poor Sophy, and my whole