7. CHAPTER VII.
In which are concluded the adventures that happened at the inn at
Upton
In the first place, then, this gentleman just arrived was no other
person than Squire Western himself, who was come hither in pursuit
of his daughter; and, had he fortunately been two hours earlier, he
had not only found her, but his niece into the bargain; for such was
the wife of Mr. Fitzpatrick, who had run away with her five years
before, out of the custody of that sage lady, Madam Western.
Now this lady had departed from the inn much about the same time
with Sophia; for, having been waked by the voice of her husband, she
had sent up for the landlady, and being by her apprized of the matter,
had bribed the good woman, at an extravagant price, to furnish her
with horses for her escape. Such prevalence had money in this
family; and though the mistress would have turned away her maid for
a corrupt hussy, if she had known as much as the reader, yet she was
no more proof against corruption herself than poor Susan had been.
Mr. Western and his nephew were not known to one another; nor indeed
would the former have taken any notice of the latter if he had known
him; for, this being a stolen match, and consequently an unnatural one
in the opinion of the good squire, he had, from the time of her
committing it, abandoned the poor young creature, who was then no more
than eighteen, as a monster, and had never since suffered her to be
named in his presence.
The kitchen was now a scene of universal confusion, Western
enquiring after his daughter, and Fitzpatrick as eagerly after his
wife, when Jones entered the room, unfortunately having Sophia's
muff in his hand.
As soon as Western saw Jones, he set up the same holla as is used by
sportsmen when their game is in view. He then immediately run up and
laid hold of Jones, crying, "We have got the dog fox, I warrant the
bitch is not far off." The jargon which followed for some minutes,
where many spoke different things at the same time, as it would be
very difficult to describe, so would it be no less unpleasant to
read.
Jones having, at length, shaken Mr. Western off, and some of the
company having interfered between them, our heroe protested his
innocence as to knowing anything of the lady; when Parson Supple
stepped up, and said, "It is folly to deny it; for why, the marks of
guilt are in thy hands. I will myself asseverate and bind it by an
oath, that the muff thou bearest in thy hand belongeth unto Madam
Sophia; for I have frequently observed her, of later days, to bear
it about her." "My daughter's muff!" cries the squire in a rage. "Hath
he got my daughter's muff? bear witness the goods are found upon
him. I'll have him before a justice of peace this instant. Where is my
daughter, villain?" "Sir," said Jones, "I beg you would be pacified.
The muff, I acknowledge, is the young lady's; but, upon my honour, I
have never seen her." At these words Western lost all patience, and
grew inarticulate with rage.
Some of the servants had acquainted Fitzpatrick who Mr. Western was.
The good Irishman, therefore, thinking he had now an opportunity to do
an act of service to his uncle, and by that means might possibly
obtain his favour, stept up to Jones, and cried out, "Upon my
conscience, sir, you may be ashamed of denying your having seen the
gentleman's daughter before my face, when you know I found you there
upon the bed together." Then, turning to Western, he offered to
conduct him immediately to the room where his daughter was; which
offer being accepted, he, the squire, the parson, and some others,
ascended directly to Mrs. Waters's chamber, which they entered with no
less violence than Mr. Fitzpatrick had done before.
The poor lady started from her sleep with as much amazement as
terror, and beheld at her bedside a figure which might very well be
supposed to have escaped out of Bedlam. Such wildness and confusion
were in the looks of Mr. Western; who no sooner saw the lady than he
started back, shewing sufficiently by his manner, before he spoke,
that this was not the person sought after.
So much more tenderly do women value their reputation than their
persons, that, though the latter seemed now in more danger than
before, yet, as the former was secure, the lady screamed not with such
violence as she had done on the other occasion. However, she no sooner
found herself alone than she abandoned all thoughts of further repose;
and, as she had sufficient reason to be dissatisfied with her present
lodging, she dressed herself with all possible expedition.
Mr. Western now proceeded to search the whole house, but to as
little purpose as he had disturbed poor Mrs. Waters. He then
returned disconsolate into the kitchen, where he found Jones in the
custody of his servants.
This violent uproar had raised all the people in the house, though
it was yet scarcely daylight. Among these was a grave gentleman, who
had the honour to be in the commission of the peace for the county
of Worcester. Of which Mr. Western was no sooner informed than he
offered to lay his complaint before him. The justice declined
executing his office, as he said he had no clerk present, nor no
book about justice business; and that he could not carry all the law
in his head about stealing away daughters, and such sort of things.
Here Mr. Fitzpatrick offered to lend him his assistance, informing
the company that he had been himself bred to the law. (And indeed he
had served three years as clerk to an attorney in the north of
Ireland, when, chusing a genteeler walk in life, he quitted his
master, came over to England, and set up that business which
requires no apprenticeship, namely, that of a gentleman, in which he
had succeeded, as hath been already partly mentioned.)
Mr. Fitzpatrick declared that the law concerning daughters was out
of the present case; that stealing a muff was undoubtedly felony,
and the goods being found upon the person, were sufficient evidence of
the fact.
The magistrate, upon the encouragement of so learned a coadjutor,
and upon the violent intercession of the squire, was at length
prevailed upon to seat himself in the chair of justice, where being
placed, upon viewing the muff which Jones still held in his hand,
and upon the parson's swearing it to be the property of Mr. Western,
he desired Mr. Fitzpatrick to draw up a commitment, which he said he
would sign.
Jones now desired to be heard, which was at last, with difficulty,
granted him. He then produced the evidence of Mr. Partridge, as to the
finding it; but, what was still more, Susan deposed that Sophia
herself had delivered the muff to her, and had ordered her to convey
it into the chamber where Mr. Jones had found it.
Whether a natural love of justice, or the extraordinary comeliness
of Jones, had wrought on Susan to make the discovery, I will not
determine; but such were the effects of her evidence, that the
magistrate, throwing himself back in his chair, declared that the
matter was now altogether as clear on the side of the prisoner as it
had before been against him; with which the parson concurred,
saying, the Lord forbid he should be instrumental in committing an
innocent person to durance. The justice then arose, acquitted the
prisoner, and broke up the court.
Mr. Western now gave every one present a hearty curse, and,
immediately ordering his horses, departed in pursuit of his
daughter, without taking the least notice of his nephew Fitzpatrick,
or returning any answer to his claim of kindred, notwithstanding all
the obligations he had just received from that gentleman. In the
violence, moreover, of his hurry, and of his passion, he luckily
forgot to demand the muff of Jones: I say luckily; for he would have
died on the spot rather than have parted with it.
Jones likewise, with his friend Partridge, set forward the moment he
had paid his reckoning, in quest of his lovely Sophia, whom he now
resolved never more to abandon the pursuit of. Nor could he bring
himself even to take leave of Mrs. Waters; of whom he detested the
very thoughts, as she had been, though not designedly, the occasion of
his missing the happiest interview with Sophia, to whom he now vowed
eternal constancy.
As for Mrs. Waters, she took the opportunity of the coach which
was going to Bath; for which place she set out in company with the two
Irish gentlemen, the landlady kindly lending her her cloaths; in
return for which she was contented only to receive about double
their value, as a recompence for the loan. Upon the road she was
perfectly reconciled to Mr. Fitzpatrick, who was a very handsome
fellow, and indeed did all she could to console him in the absence
of his wife.
Thus ended the many odd adventures which Mr. Jones encountered at
his inn at Upton, where they talk, to this day, of the beauty and
lovely behaviour of the charming Sophia, by the name of the
Somersetshire angel.