my house! A rare kettle of fish I have discovered at last! who the devil would be plagued with a daughter?”—“What’s the matter, neighbour?” said Allworthy.—“Matter enough,” answered Western: “when I thought she was just a coming to; nay, when she had in a manner promised me to do as I would ha her, and when I was a hoped to have had nothing more to do than to have sent for the lawyer, and finished all; what do you think I have found out? that the little b⸺ hath bin playing tricks with me all the while, and carrying on a correspondence with that bastard of yours. Sister Western, whom I have quarrelled with upon her account, sent me word o’t, and I ordered her pockets to be searched when she was asleep, and here I have got un signed with the son of a whore’s own name. I have not had patience to read half o’t, for ’tis longer than one of parson Supple’s sermons; but I find plainly it is all about love; and indeed what should it be else? I have packed her up in chamber again, and tomorrow morning down she goes into the country, unless she consents to be married directly, and there she shall live in a garret upon bread and water all her days; and the sooner such a b⸺ breaks her heart the better, though, d⸺n her, that I believe is too tough. She will live long enough to plague me.”—“
Mr. Western,” answered Allworthy, “you know I have always protested against force, and you yourself consented that none should be used.”—“Ay,” cries he, “that was only upon condition that she would consent without. What the devil and Doctor Faustus! shan’t I do what I will with my own daughter, especially when I desire nothing but her own good?”—“Well, neighbour,” answered Allworthy, “if you will give me leave, I will undertake once to argue with the young lady.”—“Will you?” said Western; “why that is kind now, and neighbourly, and mayhap you will do more than I have been able to do with her; for I promise you she hath a very good opinion of you.”—“Well, sir,” said Allworthy, “if you will go home, and release the young lady from her captivity, I will wait upon her within this half-hour.”—“But suppose,” said Western, “she should run away with un in the meantime? For lawyer Dowling tells me there is no hopes of hanging the fellow at last, for that the man is alive, and like to do well, and that he thinks Jones will be out of prison again presently.”—“How!” said Allworthy; “what, did you employ him then to enquire or to do anything in that matter?”—“Not I,” answered Western, “he mentioned it to me just now of his own accord.”—“Just now!” cries Allworthy, “why, where did you see him then? I want much to see
Mr. Dowling.”—“Why, you may see un an you will presently at my lodgings; for there is to be a meeting of lawyers there this morning about a mortgage. ’Icod! I shall lose two or dree thousand pounds, I believe, by that honest gentleman,
Mr. Nightingale.”—“Well, sir,” said Allworthy, “I will be with you within the half-hour.”—“And do for once,” cries the squire, “take a fool’s advice; never think of dealing with her by gentle methods, take my word for it those will never do. I have tried ’um long enough. She must be frightened into it, there is no other way. Tell her I’m her father; and of the horrid sin of disobedience, and of the dreadful punishment of it in t’other world, and then tell her about being locked up all her life in a garret in this, and being kept only on bread and water.”—“I will do all I can,” said Allworthy; “for I promise you there is nothing I wish for more than an alliance with this amiable creature.”—“Nay, the girl is well enough for matter o’ that,” cries the squire; “a man may go farther and meet with worse meat; that I may declare o’ her, thof she be my own daughter. And if she will but be obedient to me, there is narrow a father within a hundred miles o’ the place, that loves a daughter better than I do; but I see you are busy with the lady here, so I will go huome and expect you; and so your humble servant.”
As soon as Mr. Western was gone Mrs. Waters said, “I see, sir, the squire hath not the least remembrance of my face. I believe, Mr. Allworthy, you would not have known me neither. I am very considerably altered since that day when you so kindly gave me that advice, which I had been happy had I followed.”—“Indeed, madam,” cries Allworthy, “it gave me great concern when I first heard the contrary.”—“Indeed, sir,” says she, “I was ruined by a very deep scheme of villainy, which if you knew, though I pretend not to think it would justify me in your opinion, it would at least mitigate my offence, and induce you to pity me. You are not now at leisure to hear my whole story; but this I assure you, I was betrayed by the most solemn promises of marriage; nay, in the eye of Heaven I was married to him; for, after much reading on the subject, I am convinced that particular ceremonies are only requisite to give a legal sanction to marriage, and have only a worldly use in giving a woman the privileges of a wife; but that she who lives constant to one man, after a solemn private affiance, whatever the world may call her, hath little to charge on her own conscience.”—“I am sorry, madam,” said Allworthy, “you made so ill a use of your learning. Indeed, it would have been well that you had been possessed of much more, or had remained in a state of ignorance. And yet, madam, I am afraid you have more than this sin
