BOOK XIII. CONTAINING THE SPACE OF TWELVE DAYS.
12. Chapter xii. In which the thirteenth book is concluded.
(continued)
"I thought," says Sophia, "your ladyship had allowed him to be
handsome"----
"Whom, pray?" cried the lady hastily.
"Mr Jones," answered Sophia;--and immediately recollecting herself,
"Mr Jones!--no, no; I ask your pardon;--I mean the gentleman who was
just now here."
"O Sophy! Sophy!" cries the lady; "this Mr Jones, I am afraid, still
runs in your head."
"Then, upon my honour, madam," said Sophia, "Mr Jones is as entirely
indifferent to me, as the gentleman who just now left us."
"Upon my honour," said Lady Bellaston, "I believe it. Forgive me,
therefore, a little innocent raillery; but I promise you I will never
mention his name any more."
And now the two ladies separated, infinitely more to the delight of
Sophia than of Lady Bellaston, who would willingly have tormented her
rival a little longer, had not business of more importance called her
away. As for Sophia, her mind was not perfectly easy under this first
practice of deceit; upon which, when she retired to her chamber, she
reflected with the highest uneasiness and conscious shame. Nor could
the peculiar hardship of her situation, and the necessity of the case,
at all reconcile her mind to her conduct; for the frame of her mind
was too delicate to bear the thought of having been guilty of a
falsehood, however qualified by circumstances. Nor did this thought
once suffer her to close her eyes during the whole succeeding night.
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