History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by Henry Fielding
Chapter v.
1532 words | Chapter 302
A short account of the history of Mrs Miller.
Jones this day eat a pretty good dinner for a sick man, that is to
say, the larger half of a shoulder of mutton. In the afternoon he
received an invitation from Mrs Miller to drink tea; for that good
woman, having learnt, either by means of Partridge, or by some other
means natural or supernatural, that he had a connexion with Mr
Allworthy, could not endure the thoughts of parting with him in an
angry manner.
Jones accepted the invitation; and no sooner was the tea-kettle
removed, and the girls sent out of the room, than the widow, without
much preface, began as follows: “Well, there are very surprizing
things happen in this world; but certainly it is a wonderful business
that I should have a relation of Mr Allworthy in my house, and never
know anything of the matter. Alas! sir, you little imagine what a
friend that best of gentlemen hath been to me and mine. Yes, sir, I am
not ashamed to own it; it is owing to his goodness that I did not long
since perish for want, and leave my poor little wretches, two
destitute, helpless, friendless orphans, to the care, or rather to the
cruelty, of the world.
“You must know, sir, though I am now reduced to get my living by
letting lodgings, I was born and bred a gentlewoman. My father was an
officer of the army, and died in a considerable rank: but he lived up
to his pay; and, as that expired with him, his family, at his death,
became beggars. We were three sisters. One of us had the good luck to
die soon after of the small-pox; a lady was so kind as to take the
second out of charity, as she said, to wait upon her. The mother of
this lady had been a servant to my grand-mother; and, having inherited
a vast fortune from her father, which he had got by pawnbroking, was
married to a gentleman of great estate and fashion. She used my sister
so barbarously, often upbraiding her with her birth and poverty,
calling her in derision a gentlewoman, that I believe she at length
broke the heart of the poor girl. In short, she likewise died within a
twelvemonth after my father. Fortune thought proper to provide better
for me, and within a month from his decease I was married to a
clergyman, who had been my lover a long time before, and who had been
very ill used by my father on that account: for though my poor father
could not give any of us a shilling, yet he bred us up as delicately,
considered us, and would have had us consider ourselves, as highly as
if we had been the richest heiresses. But my dear husband forgot all
this usage, and the moment we were become fatherless he immediately
renewed his addresses to me so warmly, that I, who always liked, and
now more than ever esteemed him, soon complied. Five years did I live
in a state of perfect happiness with that best of men, till at
last--Oh! cruel! cruel fortune, that ever separated us, that deprived
me of the kindest of husbands and my poor girls of the tenderest
parent.--O my poor girls! you never knew the blessing which ye
lost.--I am ashamed, Mr Jones, of this womanish weakness; but I shall
never mention him without tears.” “I ought rather, madam,” said Jones,
“to be ashamed that I do not accompany you.” “Well, sir,” continued
she, “I was now left a second time in a much worse condition than
before; besides the terrible affliction I was to encounter, I had now
two children to provide for; and was, if possible, more pennyless than
ever; when that great, that good, that glorious man, Mr Allworthy, who
had some little acquaintance with my husband, accidentally heard of my
distress, and immediately writ this letter to me. Here, sir, here it
is; I put it into my pocket to shew it you. This is the letter, sir; I
must and will read it to you.
“'Madam,
“'I heartily condole with you on your late grievous loss, which your
own good sense, and the excellent lessons you must have learnt from
the worthiest of men, will better enable you to bear than any advice
which I am capable of giving. Nor have I any doubt that you, whom I
have heard to be the tenderest of mothers, will suffer any
immoderate indulgence of grief to prevent you from discharging your
duty to those poor infants, who now alone stand in need of your
tenderness.
“`However, as you must be supposed at present to be incapable of
much worldly consideration, you will pardon my having ordered a
person to wait on you, and to pay you twenty guineas, which I beg
you will accept till I have the pleasure of seeing you, and believe
me to be, madam, &c.'
“This letter, sir, I received within a fortnight after the irreparable
loss I have mentioned; and within a fortnight afterwards, Mr
Allworthy--the blessed Mr Allworthy, came to pay me a visit, when he
placed me in the house where you now see me, gave me a large sum of
money to furnish it, and settled an annuity of £50 a-year upon me,
which I have constantly received ever since. Judge, then, Mr Jones, in
what regard I must hold a benefactor, to whom I owe the preservation
of my life, and of those dear children, for whose sake alone my life
is valuable. Do not, therefore, think me impertinent, Mr Jones (since
I must esteem one for whom I know Mr Allworthy hath so much value), if
I beg you not to converse with these wicked women. You are a young
gentleman, and do not know half their artful wiles. Do not be angry
with me, sir, for what I said upon account of my house; you must be
sensible it would be the ruin of my poor dear girls. Besides, sir, you
cannot but be acquainted that Mr Allworthy himself would never forgive
my conniving at such matters, and particularly with you.”
“Upon my word, madam,” said Jones, “you need make no farther apology;
nor do I in the least take anything ill you have said; but give me
leave, as no one can have more value than myself for Mr Allworthy, to
deliver you from one mistake, which, perhaps, would not be altogether
for his honour; I do assure you, I am no relation of his.”
“Alas! sir,” answered she, “I know you are not, I know very well who
you are; for Mr Allworthy hath told me all; but I do assure you, had
you been twenty times his son, he could not have expressed more regard
for you than he hath often expressed in my presence. You need not be
ashamed, sir, of what you are; I promise you no good person will
esteem you the less on that account. No, Mr Jones, the words
`dishonourable birth' are nonsense, as my dear, dear husband used to
say, unless the word `dishonourable' be applied to the parents; for
the children can derive no real dishonour from an act of which they
are intirely innocent.”
Here Jones heaved a deep sigh, and then said, “Since I perceive,
madam, you really do know me, and Mr Allworthy hath thought proper to
mention my name to you; and since you have been so explicit with me as
to your own affairs, I will acquaint you with some more circumstances
concerning myself.” And these Mrs Miller having expressed great desire
and curiosity to hear, he began and related to her his whole history,
without once mentioning the name of Sophia.
There is a kind of sympathy in honest minds, by means of which they
give an easy credit to each other. Mrs Miller believed all which Jones
told her to be true, and exprest much pity and concern for him. She
was beginning to comment on the story, but Jones interrupted her; for,
as the hour of assignation now drew nigh, he began to stipulate for a
second interview with the lady that evening, which he promised should
be the last at her house; swearing, at the same time, that she was one
of great distinction, and that nothing but what was intirely innocent
was to pass between them; and I do firmly believe he intended to keep
his word.
Mrs Miller was at length prevailed on, and Jones departed to his
chamber, where he sat alone till twelve o'clock, but no Lady Bellaston
appeared.
As we have said that this lady had a great affection for Jones, and as
it must have appeared that she really had so, the reader may perhaps
wonder at the first failure of her appointment, as she apprehended him
to be confined by sickness, a season when friendship seems most to
require such visits. This behaviour, therefore, in the lady, may, by
some, be condemned as unnatural; but that is not our fault; for our
business is only to record truth.
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