BOOK XIII. CONTAINING THE SPACE OF TWELVE DAYS.
12. Chapter xii. In which the thirteenth book is concluded.
(continued)
"Nay, sure, madam," answered Sophia, "one can't suspect after what he
hath done;--besides, if your ladyship observed him, there was an
elegance in his discourse, a delicacy, a prettiness of expression
that, that----"
"I confess," said Lady Bellaston, "the fellow hath words----And
indeed, Sophia, you must forgive me, indeed you must."
"I forgive your ladyship!" said Sophia.
"Yes, indeed you must," answered she, laughing; "for I had a horrible
suspicion when I first came into the room----I vow you must forgive
it; but I suspected it was Mr Jones himself."
"Did your ladyship, indeed?" cries Sophia, blushing, and affecting a
laugh.
"Yes, I vow I did," answered she. "I can't imagine what put it into my
head: for, give the fellow his due, he was genteely drest; which, I
think, dear Sophy, is not commonly the case with your friend."
"This raillery," cries Sophia, "is a little cruel, Lady Bellaston,
after my promise to your ladyship."
"Not at all, child," said the lady;----"It would have been cruel
before; but after you have promised me never to marry without your
father's consent, in which you know is implied your giving up Jones,
sure you can bear a little raillery on a passion which was pardonable
enough in a young girl in the country, and of which you tell me you
have so entirely got the better. What must I think, my dear Sophy, if
you cannot bear a little ridicule even on his dress? I shall begin to
fear you are very far gone indeed; and almost question whether you
have dealt ingenuously with me."
"Indeed, madam," cries Sophia, "your ladyship mistakes me, if you
imagine I had any concern on his account."
"On his account!" answered the lady: "You must have mistaken me; I
went no farther than his dress;----for I would not injure your taste
by any other comparison--I don't imagine, my dear Sophy, if your Mr
Jones had been such a fellow as this--"
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