“Madam,” cries Sophia, “I have never presumed to controvert any opinion of yours; and this subject, as I said, I have never yet thought of, and perhaps never may.”
“Indeed, Sophy,” replied the aunt, “this dissimulation with me is very foolish. The French shall as soon persuade me that they take foreign towns in defence only of their own country, as you can impose on me to believe you have never yet thought seriously of matrimony. How can you, child, affect to deny that you have considered of contracting an alliance, when you so well know I am acquainted with the party with whom you desire to contract it?—an alliance as unnatural, and contrary to your interest, as a separate league with the French would be to the interest of the Dutch! But however, if you have not hitherto considered of this matter, I promise you it is now high time, for my brother is resolved immediately to conclude the treaty with Mr Blifil; and indeed I am a sort of guarantee in the affair, and have promised your concurrence.”
“Indeed, madam,” cries Sophia, “this is the only instance in which I must disobey both yourself and my father. For this is a match which requires very little consideration in me to refuse.”
“If I was not as great a philosopher as Socrates himself,” returned Mrs Western, “you would overcome my patience. What objection can you have to the young gentleman?”
“A very solid objection, in my opinion,” says Sophia—“I hate him.”
“Will you never learn a proper use of words?” answered the aunt. “Indeed, child, you should consult Bailey's Dictionary. It is impossible you should hate a man from whom you have received no injury. By hatred, therefore, you mean no more than dislike, which is no sufficient objection against your marrying of him. I have known many couples, who have entirely disliked each other, lead very comfortable genteel lives. Believe me, child, I know these things better than you. You will allow me, I think, to have seen the world, in which I have not an acquaintance who would not rather be thought to dislike her husband than to like him. The contrary is such out-of-fashion romantic nonsense, that the very imagination of it is shocking.”
“Indeed, madam,” replied Sophia, “I shall never marry a man I dislike. If I promise my father never to consent to any marriage contrary to his inclinations, I think I may hope he will never force me into that state contrary to my own.”
“Inclinations!” cries the aunt, with some warmth. “Inclinations! I am astonished at your assurance. A young woman of your age, and unmarried, to talk of inclinations! But whatever your inclinations may be, my brother is resolved; nay, since you talk of inclinations, I shall advise him to hasten the treaty. Inclinations!”
Sophia then flung herself upon her knees, and tears began to trickle from her shining eyes. She entreated her aunt, “to have mercy upon her, and not to resent so cruelly her unwillingness to make herself miserable;” often urging, “that she alone was concerned, and that her happiness only was at stake.”
As a bailiff, when well authorized by his writ, having possessed himself of the person of some unhappy debtor, views all his tears without concern; in vain the wretched captive attempts to raise compassion; in vain the tender wife bereft of her companion, the little prattling boy, or frighted girl, are mentioned as inducements to reluctance. The noble bumtrap, blind and deaf to every circumstance of distress, greatly rises above all the motives to humanity, and into the hands of the gaoler resolves to deliver his miserable prey.