true. I have experienced them in my own cause. They have preserved my family. You must pardon my tears, sir, indeed you must. When I consider the cruel reverse of fortune which this poor youth, to whom I am so much obliged, hath suffered; when I consider the loss of your favour, which I know he valued more than his life, I must, I must lament him. If you had a dagger in your hand, ready to plunge into my heart, I must lament the misery of one whom you have loved, and I shall ever love.'

Allworthy was pretty much moved with this speech, but it seemed not to be with anger; for after a short silence, taking Mrs. Miller by the hand, he said very affectionately to her: Come, madam, let us consider a little about your daughter. I cannot blame you for rejoicing in a match which promises to be advantageous to her; but you know this advantage, in a great measure, depends on the father's reconciliation. I know Mr. Nightingale very well, and have formerly had concerns with him: I will make him a visit, and endeavour to serve you in this matter. I believe he is a worldly man; but as this is an only son, and the thing is now irretrievable, perhaps he may in time be brought to reason. I promise you I will do all I can for you.'

Many were the acknowledgements which the poor woman made to Allworthy for this kind and generous offer, nor could she refrain from taking this occasion again to express her gratitude towards Jones, to whom,' said she, I owe the opportunity of giv. ing you, sir, this present trouble.' Allworthy gently stopped her; but he was too good a man to be really offended with the effects of so noble a principle as now actuated Mrs. Miller; and indeed, had not this new affair inflamed his former anger against Jones, it is possible he might have been a little softened towards him, by the report of an action which malice itself could not have derived from an evil motive.

Mr. Allworthy and Mrs. Miller had been above

an hour together, when their conversation was put an end to by the arrival of Blifil, and another person, which other person was no less than Mr. Dow. ling, the attorney, who was now become a great favourite with Mr. Blifil, and whom Mr. Allworthy, at the desire of his nephew, had made his steward, and had likewise recommended him to Mr. Western, from whom the attorney received a promise of being promoted to the same office upon the first va cancy; and, in the mean time, was employed in transacting some affairs which the 'squire then had in London in relation to a mortgage.

This was the principal affair which then brought Mr. Dowling to town; therefore he took the same opportunity to charge himself with some money for Mr. Allworthy, and to make a report to him of some other business; in all which, as it was of much too dull a nature to find any place in this history, we will leave the uncle, nephew, and their lawyer, concerned, and resort to other matters.

CHAP. VIII.

BEFORE we return to Mr. Jones, we will take

one more view of Sophia.

Though that young lady had brought her aunt into great good humour by those soothing methods which we have before related, she had not brought her in the least to abate of her zeal for the match with Lord Fellamar. This zeal was now inflamed by Lady Bellaston, who had told her the preceding evening, that she was well satisfied, from the conduct of Sophia, and from her carriage to his lordship, that all delays would be dangerous; and that the only way to succeed was to press the match for ward with such rapidity, that the young lady should have no time to reflect, and be obliged to consent, while she scarce knew what she did; in which man

ner, she said, one half of the marriages among people of condition were brought about; a fact very probably true, and to which I suppose is owing the mutual tenderness which afterwards exists among so many happy couples.

A hint of the same kind was given by the same. lady to Lord Fellamar; and both these so readily embraced the advice, that the very next day was, at his lordship's request, appointed by Mrs. Western for a private interview between the young parties. This was communicated to Sophia by her aunt, and insisted upon in such high terms, that, after having urged every thing she possibly could invent against it, without the least effect, she at last agreed to give the highest instance of complaisance which any young lady can give, and consented to see his lordship.

As conversations of this kind afford no great entertainment, we shall be excused from reciting the whole that passed at this interview; in which, after his lordship had made many declarations of the most pure and ardent passion, to the silent, blushing Sophia, she at last collected all the spirits she could raise, and, with a trembling low voice, said, My lord, you must be yourself conscious whether your former behaviour to me hath been consistent with the professions you now make.' Is there,' answered he, no way by which I can atone for madness? What I did, I am afraid, must have too plainly coùvinced you, that the violence of love had deprived me of my senses. Indeed, my lord,' said she, it is in your power to give me a proof of an affection which I much rather wish to encourage, and to which I should think myself more beholden. Name it, madam,' said my lord, very warmly. My lord,' says she, looking down upon her fan, I know you must be sensible how uneasy this pretended passion of yours hath made me.' Can you be so cruel to call it pretended? says he. Yes, my lord,' an. swered Sophia, all professions of love to those

whom we persecute are most insulting pretences. This pursuit of yours is to me a most cruel persecution; nay, it is taking a most ungenerous advan tage of my unhappy situation.' Most lovely, most adorable charmer, do not accuse me,' cries he, "of taking an ungenerous advantage, while I have no thoughts but what are directed to your honour and interest, and while I have no view, no hope, no am. bition, but to throw myself, honour, fortune, every thing at your feet. My lord,' says she, it is that fortune, and those honours, which gave you the advantage of which I complain. These are the charms which have seduced my relations, but to me they are things indifferent. If your lordship will merit my gratitude, there is but one way.' Pardon me, di vine creature,' said he, there can be none. All I can do for you is so much your due, and will give me so much pleasure, that there is no room for your gratitude. Indeed, my lord,' answered she, you may obtain my gratitude, my good opinion, every kind thought and wish which it is in my power to bestow; nay, you may obtain them with ease; for sure to a generous mind it must be easy to grant my request. Let me beseech you then, to cease a pursuit, in which you can never have any success. For your own sake, as wel! as mine, I entreat this favour; for sure you are too noble to have any plea. sure in tormenting an unhappy creature. What can your lordship propose but uneasiness to yourself, by a perseverance, which, upon my honour, upon my soul, cannot, shall not, prevail with me, whatever distresses you may drive me to?' Here my lord fetched a deep sigh, and then said, 'Is it then, madam, that I am so unhappy to be the object of your dislike and scorn; or will you pardon me if I sus pect there is some other? Here he hesitated; and Sophia answered with some spirit, My lord, I shall not be accountable to you for the reasons of my con. duct. I am obliged to your lordship for the gene. rous offer you have made: I own it is beyond either

my deserts or expectations; yet I hope, my lord, you will not insist on my reasons, when I declare I cannot accept it.' Lord Fellamar returned much to this, which we do not perfectly understand, and perhaps it could not all be strictly reconciled either to sense or grammar; but he concluded his ranting speech with saying, That if she had pre-engaged herself to any gentleman, however unhappy it would make him, he should think himself bound in honour to desist.' Perhaps my lord laid too much emphasis on the word gentleman; for we cannot else well account for the indignation with which he inspired Sophia, who, in her answer, seemed greatly to resent some affront he had given her.

While she was speaking, with her voice more. raised than usual, Mrs. Western came into the room, the fire glaring in her cheeks, and the flames bursting from her eyes. I am ashamed,' says she, my lord, of the reception which you have met with. I assure your lordship we are all sensible of the honour done us; and I must tell you, Miss Western, the family expects a different behaviour from you.' Here my lord interfered on behalf of the young lady, but to no purpose; the aunt proceeded till Sophia pulled out her handkerchief, threw herself into a chair, and burst into a violent fit of tears.

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The remainder of the conversation between Mrs. Western and his lordship, till the latter withdrew, consisted of bitter lamentations on his side, and on hers, of the strongest assurances that her niece should and would consent to all he wished. deed, my lord,' says she, the girl hath had a foolish education, neither adapted to her fortune, nor her family. Her father, I am sorry to say it, is to blame for every thing. The girl hath silly country notions of bashfulness. Nothing else, my lord, upon my honour: I am convinced she hath a good understanding at the bottom, and will be brought to

reason."

This last speech was made in the absence of SoVOL. II.

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