8. Chapter viii. The meeting between Jones and Sophia.
The meeting between Jones and Sophia.
Jones departed instantly in quest of Sophia, whom he found just risen
from the ground, where her father had left her, with the tears
trickling from her eyes, and the blood running from her lips. He
presently ran to her, and with a voice full at once of tenderness and
terrour, cried, "O my Sophia, what means this dreadful sight?" She
looked softly at him for a moment before she spoke, and then said, "Mr
Jones, for Heaven's sake how came you here?--Leave me, I beseech you,
this moment."--"Do not," says he, "impose so harsh a command upon
me--my heart bleeds faster than those lips. O Sophia, how easily could
I drain my veins to preserve one drop of that dear blood."--"I have
too many obligations to you already," answered she, "for sure you
meant them such." Here she looked at him tenderly almost a minute, and
then bursting into an agony, cried, "Oh, Mr Jones, why did you save my
life? my death would have been happier for us both."--"Happier for us
both!" cried he. "Could racks or wheels kill me so painfully as
Sophia's--I cannot bear the dreadful sound. Do I live but for her?"
Both his voice and looks were full of inexpressible tenderness when he
spoke these words; and at the same time he laid gently hold on her
hand, which she did not withdraw from him; to say the truth, she
hardly knew what she did or suffered. A few moments now passed in
silence between these lovers, while his eyes were eagerly fixed on
Sophia, and hers declining towards the ground: at last she recovered
strength enough to desire him again to leave her, for that her certain
ruin would be the consequence of their being found together; adding,
"Oh, Mr Jones, you know not, you know not what hath passed this cruel
afternoon."--"I know all, my Sophia," answered he; "your cruel father
hath told me all, and he himself hath sent me hither to you."--"My
father sent you to me!" replied she: "sure you dream."--"Would to
Heaven," cries he, "it was but a dream! Oh, Sophia, your father hath
sent me to you, to be an advocate for my odious rival, to solicit you
in his favour. I took any means to get access to you. O speak to me,
Sophia! comfort my bleeding heart. Sure no one ever loved, ever doated
like me. Do not unkindly withhold this dear, this soft, this gentle
hand--one moment, perhaps, tears you for ever from me--nothing less
than this cruel occasion could, I believe, have ever conquered the
respect and awe with which you have inspired me." She stood a moment
silent, and covered with confusion; then lifting up her eyes gently
towards him, she cried, "What would Mr Jones have me say?"--"O do but
promise," cries he, "that you never will give yourself to
Blifil."--"Name not," answered she, "the detested sound. Be assured I
never will give him what is in my power to withhold from him."--"Now
then," cries he, "while you are so perfectly kind, go a little
farther, and add that I may hope."--"Alas!" says she, "Mr Jones,
whither will you drive me? What hope have I to bestow? You know my
father's intentions."--"But I know," answered he, "your compliance
with them cannot be compelled."--"What," says she, "must be the
dreadful consequence of my disobedience? My own ruin is my least
concern. I cannot bear the thoughts of being the cause of my father's
misery."--"He is himself the cause," cries Jones, "by exacting a power
over you which Nature hath not given him. Think on the misery which I
am to suffer if I am to lose you, and see on which side pity will turn
the balance."--"Think of it!" replied she: "can you imagine I do not
feel the ruin which I must bring on you, should I comply with your
desire? It is that thought which gives me resolution to bid you fly
from me for ever, and avoid your own destruction."--"I fear no
destruction," cries he, "but the loss of Sophia. If you would save me
from the most bitter agonies, recall that cruel sentence. Indeed, I
can never part with you, indeed I cannot."