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

such a distinction.”⁠—“I will learn it,” said Jones. “I have learnt it already. The first moment of hope that my Sophia might be my wife taught it me at once; and all the rest of her sex from that moment became as little the objects of desire to my sense as of passion to my heart.”⁠—“Well,” says Sophia, “the proof of this must be from time. Your situation, Mr. Jones, is now altered, and I assure you I have great satisfaction in the alteration. You will now want no opportunity of being near me, and convincing me that your mind is altered too.”⁠—“Oh! my angel,” cries Jones, “how shall I thank thy goodness! And are you so good to own that you have a satisfaction in my prosperity?⁠—Believe me, believe me, madam, it is you alone have given a relish to that prosperity, since I owe to it the dear hope⁠—Oh! my Sophia, let it not be a distant one.⁠—I will be all obedience to your commands. I will not dare to press anything further than you permit me. Yet let me entreat you to appoint a short trial. Oh! tell me when I may expect you will be convinced of what is most solemnly true.”⁠—“When I have gone voluntarily thus far, Mr. Jones,” said she, “I expect not to be pressed. Nay, I will not.”⁠—“Oh! don’t look unkindly thus, my Sophia,” cries he. “I do not, I dare not press you.⁠—Yet permit me at least once more to beg you would fix the period. Oh! consider the impatience of love.”⁠—“A twelvemonth, perhaps,” said she.⁠—“Oh! my Sophia,” cries he, “you have named an eternity.”⁠—“Perhaps it may be something sooner,” says she; “I will not be teased. If your passion for me be what I would have it, I think you may now be easy.”⁠—“Easy! Sophia, call not such an exulting happiness as mine by so cold a name.⁠—Oh! transporting thought! am I not assured that the blessed day will come, when I shall call you mine; when fears shall be no more; when I shall have that dear, that vast, that exquisite, ecstatic delight of making my Sophia happy?”⁠—“Indeed, sir,” said she, “that day is in your own power.”⁠—“Oh! my dear, my divine angel,” cried he, “these words have made me mad with joy.⁠—But I must, I will thank those dear lips which have so sweetly pronounced my bliss.” He then caught her in his arms, and kissed her with an ardour he had never ventured before.

At this instant Western, who had stood some time listening, burst into the room, and, with his hunting voice and phrase, cried out, “To her, boy, to her, go to her.⁠—That’s it, little honeys, oh, that’s it! Well! what, is it all over? Hath she appointed the day, boy? What, shall it be tomorrow or next day? It shan’t be put off a minute longer than next day, I am resolved.”⁠—“Let me beseech you, sir,” says Jones, “don’t let me be the occasion”⁠—“Beseech mine a⁠⸺,” cries Western. “I thought thou hadst been a lad of higher mettle than to give way to a parcel of maidenish tricks.⁠—I tell thee ’tis all flimflam. Zoodikers! she’d have the wedding tonight with all her heart. Would’st not, Sophy? Come, confess, and be an honest girl for once. What, art dumb? Why dost not speak?”⁠—“Why should I confess, sir,” says Sophia, “since it seems you are so well acquainted with my thoughts?”⁠—“That’s a good girl,” cries he, “and dost consent then?”⁠—“No, indeed, sir,” says Sophia, “I have given no such consent.”⁠—“And wunt not ha’ un then tomorrow, nor next day?” says Western.⁠—“Indeed, sir,” says she, “I have no such intention.”⁠—“But I can tell thee,” replied he, “why hast nut; only because thou dost love to be disobedient, and to plague and vex thy father.”⁠—“Pray, sir,” said Jones, interfering⁠—“I tell thee thou art a puppy,” cries he. “When I vorbid her, then it was all nothing but sighing and whining, and languishing and writing; now I am vor thee, she is against thee. All the spirit of contrary, that’s all. She is above being guided and governed by her father, that is the whole truth on’t. It is only to disoblige and contradict me.”⁠—“What would my papa have me do?” cries Sophia.⁠—“What would I ha’ thee do?” says he, “why, gi’ un thy hand this moment.”⁠—“Well, sir,” says Sophia, “I will obey you.⁠—There is my hand, Mr. Jones.”⁠—“Well, and will you consent to ha’ un tomorrow morning?” says Western.⁠—“I will be obedient to you, sir,” cries she.⁠—“Why then tomorrow morning be the day,” cries he.⁠—“Why then tomorrow morning shall be the day, papa, since you will have it so,” says Sophia. Jones then fell upon his knees, and kissed her hand in an agony of joy, while Western began to caper and dance about the room, presently crying out⁠—“Where the devil is Allworthy? He is without now, a-talking with that d⁠⸺⁠d lawyer Dowling, when he should be minding other matters.” He then sallied out in quest of him, and very opportunely left the lovers to enjoy a few tender minutes alone.

But he soon returned with Allworthy, saying, “If you won’t believe me, you may ask her yourself. Hast nut gin thy consent, Sophy, to be married tomorrow?”⁠—“Such are your commands, sir,” cries Sophia, “and I dare not be guilty of disobedience.”⁠—“I hope, madam,” cries Allworthy, “my nephew will merit so much goodness, and will be always as sensible as myself of the great honour you have done my family. An alliance with so charming and so excellent a young lady would indeed be an honour to the greatest in England.”⁠—“Yes,” cries Western, “but if I had suffered her to stand shill I shall I, dilly dally, you might not have had that honour yet a while; I was forced to use a little fatherly authority to bring her to.”⁠—“I hope not, sir,” cries Allworthy, “I hope there is not the least constraint.”⁠—“Why, there,” cries Western, “you may bid her unsay all again