History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

by Henry Fielding

  Chapter viii.

  The meeting between Jones and Sophia.

  Jones departed instantly in quest of Sophia, whom he found just risenfrom the ground, where her father had left her, with the tearstrickling from her eyes, and the blood running from her lips. Hepresently ran to her, and with a voice full at once of tenderness andterrour, cried, "O my Sophia, what means this dreadful sight?" Shelooked softly at him for a moment before she spoke, and then said, "MrJones, for Heaven's sake how came you here?--Leave me, I beseech you,this moment."--"Do not," says he, "impose so harsh a command uponme--my heart bleeds faster than those lips. O Sophia, how easily couldI drain my veins to preserve one drop of that dear blood."--"I havetoo many obligations to you already," answered she, "for sure youmeant them such." Here she looked at him tenderly almost a minute, andthen bursting into an agony, cried, "Oh, Mr Jones, why did you save mylife? my death would have been happier for us both."--"Happier for usboth!" cried he. "Could racks or wheels kill me so painfully asSophia's--I cannot bear the dreadful sound. Do I live but for her?"Both his voice and looks were full of inexpressible tenderness when hespoke these words; and at the same time he laid gently hold on herhand, which she did not withdraw from him; to say the truth, shehardly knew what she did or suffered. A few moments now passed insilence between these lovers, while his eyes were eagerly fixed onSophia, and hers declining towards the ground: at last she recoveredstrength enough to desire him again to leave her, for that her certainruin would be the consequence of their being found together; adding,"Oh, Mr Jones, you know not, you know not what hath passed this cruelafternoon."--"I know all, my Sophia," answered he; "your cruel fatherhath told me all, and he himself hath sent me hither to you."--"Myfather sent you to me!" replied she: "sure you dream."--"Would toHeaven," cries he, "it was but a dream! Oh, Sophia, your father hathsent me to you, to be an advocate for my odious rival, to solicit youin 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 doatedlike me. Do not unkindly withhold this dear, this soft, this gentlehand--one moment, perhaps, tears you for ever from me--nothing lessthan this cruel occasion could, I believe, have ever conquered therespect and awe with which you have inspired me." She stood a momentsilent, and covered with confusion; then lifting up her eyes gentlytowards him, she cried, "What would Mr Jones have me say?"--"O do butpromise," cries he, "that you never will give yourself toBlifil."--"Name not," answered she, "the detested sound. Be assured Inever will give him what is in my power to withhold from him."--"Nowthen," cries he, "while you are so perfectly kind, go a littlefarther, and add that I may hope."--"Alas!" says she, "Mr Jones,whither will you drive me? What hope have I to bestow? You know myfather's intentions."--"But I know," answered he, "your compliancewith them cannot be compelled."--"What," says she, "must be thedreadful consequence of my disobedience? My own ruin is my leastconcern. I cannot bear the thoughts of being the cause of my father'smisery."--"He is himself the cause," cries Jones, "by exacting a powerover you which Nature hath not given him. Think on the misery which Iam to suffer if I am to lose you, and see on which side pity will turnthe balance."--"Think of it!" replied she: "can you imagine I do notfeel the ruin which I must bring on you, should I comply with yourdesire? It is that thought which gives me resolution to bid you flyfrom me for ever, and avoid your own destruction."--"I fear nodestruction," cries he, "but the loss of Sophia. If you would save mefrom the most bitter agonies, recall that cruel sentence. Indeed, Ican never part with you, indeed I cannot."

  The lovers now stood both silent and trembling, Sophia being unable towithdraw her hand from Jones, and he almost as unable to hold it; whenthe scene, which I believe some of my readers will think had lastedlong enough, was interrupted by one of so different a nature, that weshall reserve the relation of it for a different chapter.