- زمان مطالعه 8 دقیقه
- سطح خیلی سخت
دانلود اپلیکیشن «زیبوک»
این فصل را میتوانید به بهترین شکل و با امکانات عالی در اپلیکیشن «زیبوک» بخوانید
متن انگلیسی فصل
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The Story Reaches its Conclusion
Mr Allworthy now went to Mr Western’s and asked to see Sophia. After some moments of silence, he began to speak.
‘I am afraid, Miss Western, that my family has made you most unhappy, and I believe I must blame myself. When your father and I agreed to your marriage to Mr Blifil, I did not know as much about him as I do now. I wish to release you from the arrangement.’
Sophia was more grateful than she could say.
‘I have another proposal,’ he continued. ‘I have a young relation of very good character, and I will give him the fortune I planned to give to Mr Blifil. Would you allow my relation to visit you?’
Sophia, after a minute’s silence, answered, ‘I have decided to listen to no such proposals at present, sir, but to return to Somerset to take care of my father.’
‘Then, Miss Western,’ replied Mr Allworthy. ‘My relation must continue to suffer disappointment.’
Sophia smiled. ‘Can he suffer if he does not know me?’
‘Indeed he knows you,’ said Mr Allworthy, ‘for he is my own nephew, Mr Jones.’
‘Can it be possible?’ cried Sophia.
‘Indeed, madam, he is my own sister’s son. Oh, Miss Western, I have treated him cruelly. I shall never be able to reward him for his sufferings without your help. Will you not see him? I know he has faults, but I believe he has those good qualities which will make him a good husband.’
At this point, Mr Western joined them. ‘See here,’ he cried, ‘I have a letter from my cousin, Lady Bellaston. She says that murderer, Jones, has got out of prison, and I should lock up my daughter again. Neighbour, you don’t know what trouble daughters are.’
‘Mr Western,’ said Mr Allworthy, ‘I shall return now to see Mr Jones at my lodgings, and invite you to follow.’
It is impossible to imagine a more tender or moving scene than the meeting between uncle and nephew. It is beyond my power to describe the joy that was felt on both sides. After Mr Allworthy had lifted Tom from his feet, where he had thrown himself, he held him in his arms and cried: ‘Oh, my child, how I have been to blame for my unkind suspicions and the sufferings they have caused you.’
‘I have not been punished more than I deserve,’ said Tom.
Mr Allworthy then told Tom all he knew about Blifil, and promised to give him all that he needed to make him happy.
‘I owe everything to your great goodness, dear Uncle,’ said Tom. ‘But, sir, there is one sadness which I must confess to you. I have lost my angel.’
Here the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Western, who had heard the news from Sophia and could not wait to see Tom.
‘My old friend,’ he cried out, ‘I am glad to see you, with all my heart. All the past must be forgotten. We must forgive each other. I’ll take you to my Sophy this moment.’
As Tom dressed for his visit to Sophia, Partridge was so full of joy that he made a dozen mistakes. ‘I always told you, sir,’ he laughed, ‘that one day you would have it in your power to make my fortune.’ Tom happily agreed.
And now Tom went to Mr Western’s with his uncle. He was, indeed, a very fine sight. Sophia had also dressed carefully, and looked so extremely beautiful that Allworthy whispered to Western that she was the finest sight in the world.
They all had tea, and then the lovers were left alone.
It was strange that two people who had so much to say to each other when there was danger, and who so wanted to rush into each other’s arms when there were barriers, were now quiet and still. They were now safe and free to say or do what they pleased, but they sat in perfect silence.
At last Tom said, ‘Oh, my Sophia, you know all about me now. Can I ever hope for forgiveness?’
‘You must forgive yourself, Mr Jones,’ she replied.
‘Then will you believe that my wicked ways are behind me now?’ he begged.
‘I will never marry a man whose word I cannot trust,’ she answered. ‘Could you be faithful, after what I know?’
Tom took her hand and pulled her to the mirror. ‘Look there, my charming angel,’ he cried. ‘Look at that lovely face, that shape, those eyes and that mind that shines through those eyes. There is my proof. For what man who has these could be unfaithful?’
‘Then, perhaps, Mr Jones,’ said Sophia shyly, ‘we could talk about marriage.’
‘Say when, my Sophia,’ cried Tom. ‘Love is impatient.’
‘Perhaps in twelve months,’ said Sophia sweetly, and Tom took her in his arms and kissed her with a passion he had never felt before.
At this moment, Mr Western burst into the room, and with his hunting voice cried out, ‘Go to her, boy! That’s it, my honeys! Well, is it agreed? Will you marry tomorrow?’
‘No, no,’ cried Sophia, ‘not tomorrow.’
‘Yes, yes,’ cried her father. ‘Will you disobey me?’
‘Then,’ said Sophia, ‘if my father wishes it, yes.’
Her father called Mr Allworthy. ‘Good news, neighbour,’ he shouted. ‘We’ll have a wedding tomorrow, and I bet you five pounds we will have a baby boy nine months from tomorrow!’
And so, reader, all ended well for our hero, our heroine and their faithful friends. And when Mr Western became the grandfather of two fine babies, a boy and a girl, he told the world that their childish voices were sweeter to him than the music of all the hunting dogs in England.
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