BOOK X. IN WHICH THE HISTORY GOES FORWARD ABOUT TWELVE HOURS.
7. Chapter vii. In which are concluded the adventures...
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
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