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

rarely escapes a single season from the jaws of some devourer or other; for, if her friends protect her from some, it is only to deliver her over to one of their own choosing, often more disagreeable to her than any of the rest; while whole herds or flocks of other women securely, and scarce regarded, traverse the park, the play, the opera, and the assembly; and though, for the most part at least, they are at last devoured, yet for a long time do they wanton in liberty, without disturbance or control.

Of all these paragons none ever tasted more of this persecution than poor Sophia. Her ill stars were not contented with all that she had suffered on account of Blifil, they now raised her another pursuer, who seemed likely to torment her no less than the other had done. For though her aunt was less violent, she was no less assiduous in teasing her, than her father had been before.

The servants were no sooner departed after dinner than Mrs. Western, who had opened the matter to Sophia, informed her, “That she expected his lordship that very afternoon, and intended to take the first opportunity of leaving her alone with him.”⁠—“If you do, madam,” answered Sophia, with some spirit, “I shall take the first opportunity of leaving him by himself.”⁠—“How! madam!” cries the aunt; “is this the return you make me for my kindness in relieving you from your confinement at your father’s?”⁠—“You know, madam,” said Sophia, “the cause of that confinement was a refusal to comply with my father in accepting a man I detested; and will my dear aunt, who hath relieved me from that distress, involve me in another equally bad?”⁠—“And do you think then, madam,” answered Mrs. Western, “that there is no difference between my Lord Fellamar and Mr. Blifil?”⁠—“Very little, in my opinion,” cries Sophia; “and, if I must be condemned to one, I would certainly have the merit of sacrificing myself to my father’s pleasure.”⁠—“Then my pleasure, I find,” said the aunt, “hath very little weight with you; but that consideration shall not move me. I act from nobler motives. The view of aggrandizing my family, of ennobling yourself, is what I proceed upon. Have you no sense of ambition? Are there no charms in the thoughts of having a coronet on your coach?”⁠—“None, upon my honour,” said Sophia. “A pincushion upon my coach would please me just as well.”⁠—“Never mention honour,” cries the aunt. “It becomes not the mouth of such a wretch. I am sorry, niece, you force me to use these words, but I cannot bear your groveling temper; you have none of the blood of the Westerns in you. But, however mean and base your own ideas are, you shall bring no imputation on mine. I will never suffer the world to say of me that I encouraged you in refusing one of the best matches in England; a match which, besides its advantage in fortune, would do honour to almost any family, and hath, indeed, in title, the advantage of ours.”⁠—“Surely,” says Sophia, “I am born deficient, and have not the senses with which other people are blessed; there must be certainly some sense which can relish the delights of sound and show, which I have not; for surely mankind would not labour so much, nor sacrifice so much for the obtaining, nor would they be so elate and proud with possessing, what appeared to them, as it doth to me, the most insignificant of all trifles.”

“No, no, miss,” cries the aunt; “you are born with as many senses as other people; but I assure you you are not born with a sufficient understanding to make a fool of me, or to expose my conduct to the world; so I declare this to you, upon my word, and you know, I believe, how fixed my resolutions are, unless you agree to see his lordship this afternoon, I will, with my own hands, deliver you tomorrow morning to my brother, and will never henceforth interfere with you, nor see your face again.” Sophia stood a few moments silent after this speech, which was uttered in a most angry and peremptory tone; and then, bursting into tears, she cried, “Do with me, madam, whatever you please; I am the most miserable undone wretch upon earth; if my dear aunt forsakes me, where shall I look for a protector?”⁠—“My dear niece,” cries she, “you will have a very good protector in his lordship; a protector whom nothing but a hankering after that vile fellow Jones can make you decline.”⁠—“Indeed, madam,” said Sophia, “you wrong me. How can you imagine, after what you have shown me, if I had ever any such thoughts, that I should not banish them forever? If it will satisfy you, I will receive the sacrament upon it never to see his face again.”⁠—“But, child, dear child,” said the aunt, “be reasonable; can you invent a single objection?”⁠—“I have already, I think, told you a sufficient objection,” answered Sophia.⁠—“What?” cries the aunt; “I remember none.”⁠—“Sure, madam,” said Sophia, “I told you he had used me in the rudest and vilest manner.”⁠—“Indeed, child,” answered she, “I never heard you, or did not understand you;⁠—but what do you mean by this rude, vile manner?”⁠—“Indeed, madam,” said Sophia, “I am almost ashamed to tell you. He caught me in his arms, pulled me down upon the settee, and thrust his hand into my bosom, and kissed it with such violence that I have the mark upon my left breast at this moment.”⁠—“Indeed!” said Mrs. Western.⁠—“Yes, indeed, madam,” answered Sophia; “my father luckily came in at that instant, or Heaven knows what rudeness he intended to have proceeded to.”⁠—“I am astonished and confounded,” cries the aunt. “No woman of the name of Western hath been ever treated so since we were a family. I would have torn the eyes of a prince out, if he had attempted such freedoms with me. It is impossible! sure, Sophia,