Jones departed instantly in quest of Sophia, whom he found just risen from the ground, where her father had left her, with the tears trickling from her eyes, and the blood running from her lips. He presently ran to her, and with a voice full at once of tenderness and terrour, cried, “O my Sophia, what means this dreadful sight?” She looked softly at him for a moment before she spoke, and then said, “Mr Jones, for Heaven's sake how came you here?--Leave me, I beseech you, this moment.”--“Do not,” says he, “impose so harsh a command upon me--my heart bleeds faster than those lips. O Sophia, how easily could I drain my veins to preserve one drop of that dear blood.”--“I have too many obligations to you already,” answered she, “for sure you meant them such.” Here she looked at him tenderly almost a minute, and then bursting into an agony, cried, “Oh, Mr Jones, why did you save my life? my death would have been happier for us both.”--“Happier for us both!” cried he. “Could racks or wheels kill me so painfully as Sophia's--I cannot bear the dreadful sound. Do I live but for her?” Both his voice and looks were full of inexpressible tenderness when he spoke these words; and at the same time he laid gently hold on her hand, which she did not withdraw from him; to say the truth, she hardly knew what she did or suffered. A few moments now passed in silence between these lovers, while his eyes were eagerly fixed on Sophia, and hers declining towards the ground: at last she recovered strength enough to desire him again to leave her, for that her certain ruin would be the consequence of their being found together; adding, “Oh, Mr Jones, you know not, you know not what hath passed this cruel afternoon.”--“I know all, my Sophia,” answered he; “your cruel father hath told me all, and he himself hath sent me hither to you.”--“My father sent you to me!” replied she: “sure you dream.”--“Would to Heaven,” cries he, “it was but a dream! Oh, Sophia, your father hath sent me to you, to be an advocate for my odious rival, to solicit you in his favour. I took any means to get access to you. O speak to me, Sophia! comfort my bleeding heart. Sure no one ever loved, ever doated like me. Do not unkindly withhold this dear, this soft, this gentle hand--one moment, perhaps, tears you for ever from me--nothing less than this cruel occasion could, I believe, have ever conquered the respect and awe with which you have inspired me.” She stood a moment silent, and covered with confusion; then lifting up her eyes gently towards him, she cried, “What would Mr Jones have me say?”--“O do but promise,” cries he, “that you never will give yourself to Blifil.”--“Name not,” answered she, “the detested sound. Be assured I never will give him what is in my power to withhold from him.”--“Now then,” cries he, “while you are so perfectly kind, go a little farther, and add that I may hope.”--“Alas!” says she, “Mr Jones, whither will you drive me? What hope have I to bestow? You know my