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.