History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by Henry Fielding
Chapter x.
1656 words | Chapter 318
Consisting partly of facts, and partly of observations upon them.
The letter then which arrived at the end of the preceding chapter was
from Mr Allworthy, and the purport of it was, his intention to come
immediately to town, with his nephew Blifil, and a desire to be
accommodated with his usual lodgings, which were the first floor for
himself, and the second for his nephew.
The chearfulness which had before displayed itself in the countenance
of the poor woman was a little clouded on this occasion. This news did
indeed a good deal disconcert her. To requite so disinterested a match
with her daughter, by presently turning her new son-in-law out of
doors, appeared to her very unjustifiable on the one hand; and on the
other, she could scarce bear the thoughts of making any excuse to Mr
Allworthy, after all the obligations received from him, for depriving
him of lodgings which were indeed strictly his due; for that
gentleman, in conferring all his numberless benefits on others, acted
by a rule diametrically opposite to what is practised by most generous
people. He contrived, on all occasions, to hide his beneficence, not
only from the world, but even from the object of it. He constantly
used the words Lend and Pay, instead of Give; and by every other
method he could invent, always lessened with his tongue the favours he
conferred, while he was heaping them with both his hands. When he
settled the annuity of £50 a year therefore on Mrs Miller, he told
her, “it was in consideration of always having her first-floor when he
was in town (which he scarce ever intended to be), but that she might
let it at any other time, for that he would always send her a month's
warning.” He was now, however, hurried to town so suddenly, that he
had no opportunity of giving such notice; and this hurry probably
prevented him, when he wrote for his lodgings, adding, if they were
then empty; for he would most certainly have been well satisfied to
have relinquished them, on a less sufficient excuse than what Mrs
Miller could now have made.
But there are a sort of persons, who, as Prior excellently well
remarks, direct their conduct by something
Beyond the fix'd and settled rules
Of vice and virtue in the schools,
Beyond the letter of the law.
To these it is so far from being sufficient that their defence would
acquit them at the Old Bailey, that they are not even contented,
though conscience, the severest of all judges, should discharge them.
Nothing short of the fair and honourable will satisfy the delicacy of
their minds; and if any of their actions fall short of this mark, they
mope and pine, are as uneasy and restless as a murderer, who is afraid
of a ghost, or of the hangman.
Mrs Miller was one of these. She could not conceal her uneasiness at
this letter; with the contents of which she had no sooner acquainted
the company, and given some hints of her distress, than Jones, her
good angel, presently relieved her anxiety. “As for myself, madam,”
said he, “my lodging is at your service at a moment's warning; and Mr
Nightingale, I am sure, as he cannot yet prepare a house fit to
receive his lady, will consent to return to his new lodging, whither
Mrs Nightingale will certainly consent to go.” With which proposal
both husband and wife instantly agreed.
The reader will easily believe, that the cheeks of Mrs Miller began
again to glow with additional gratitude to Jones; but, perhaps, it may
be more difficult to persuade him, that Mr Jones having in his last
speech called her daughter Mrs Nightingale (it being the first time
that agreeable sound had ever reached her ears), gave the fond mother
more satisfaction, and warmed her heart more towards Jones, than his
having dissipated her present anxiety.
The next day was then appointed for the removal of the new-married
couple, and of Mr Jones, who was likewise to be provided for in the
same house with his friend. And now the serenity of the company was
again restored, and they past the day in the utmost chearfulness, all
except Jones, who, though he outwardly accompanied the rest in their
mirth, felt many a bitter pang on the account of his Sophia, which
were not a little heightened by the news of Mr Blifil's coming to town
(for he clearly saw the intention of his journey); and what greatly
aggravated his concern was, that Mrs Honour, who had promised to
inquire after Sophia, and to make her report to him early the next
evening, had disappointed him.
In the situation that he and his mistress were in at this time, there
were scarce any grounds for him to hope that he should hear any good
news; yet he was as impatient to see Mrs Honour as if he had expected
she would bring him a letter with an assignation in it from Sophia,
and bore the disappointment as ill. Whether this impatience arose from
that natural weakness of the human mind, which makes it desirous to
know the worst, and renders uncertainty the most intolerable of pains;
or whether he still flattered himself with some secret hopes, we will
not determine. But that it might be the last, whoever has loved cannot
but know. For of all the powers exercised by this passion over our
minds, one of the most wonderful is that of supporting hope in the
midst of despair. Difficulties, improbabilities, nay, impossibilities,
are quite overlooked by it; so that to any man extremely in love, may
be applied what Addison says of Caesar,
“The Alps, and Pyrenaeans, sink before him!”
Yet it is equally true, that the same passion will sometimes make
mountains of molehills, and produce despair in the midst of hope; but
these cold fits last not long in good constitutions. Which temper
Jones was now in, we leave the reader to guess, having no exact
information about it; but this is certain, that he had spent two hours
in expectation, when, being unable any longer to conceal his
uneasiness, he retired to his room; where his anxiety had almost made
him frantick, when the following letter was brought him from Mrs
Honour, with which we shall present the reader _verbatim et
literatim._
“SIR,
“I shud sartenly haf kaled on you a cordin too mi prommiss haddunt
itt bin that hur lashipp prevent mee; for to bee sur, Sir, you nose
very well that evere persun must luk furst at ome, and sartenly such
anuther offar mite not have ever hapned, so as I shud ave bin justly
to blam, had I not excepted of it when her lashipp was so veri kind
as to offar to mak mee hur one uman without mi ever askin any such
thing, to be sur shee is won of thee best ladis in thee wurld, and
pepil who sase to the kontrari must bee veri wiket pepil in thare
harts. To bee sur if ever I ave sad any thing of that kine it as bin
thru ignorens, and I am hartili sorri for it. I nose your onur to be
a genteelman of more onur and onesty, if I ever said ani such thing,
to repete it to hurt a pore servant that as alwais add thee gratest
respect in thee wurld for ure onur. To be sur won shud kepe wons
tung within wons teeth, for no boddi nose what may hapen; and to bee
sur if ani boddi ad tolde mee yesterday, that I shud haf bin in so
gud a plase to day, I shud not haf beleeved it; for to be sur I
never was a dremd of any such thing, nor shud I ever have soft after
ani other bodi's plase; but as her lashipp wass so kine of her one a
cord too give it mee without askin, to be sur Mrs Etoff herself, nor
no other boddi can blam mee for exceptin such a thing when it fals
in mi waye. I beg ure Onur not to menshion ani thing of what I haf
sad, for I wish ure Onur all thee gud luk in the wurld; and I don't
cuestion butt thatt u will haf Madam Sofia in the end; butt ass to
miself ure onur nose I kant bee of ani farder sarvis to u in that
matar, nou bein under thee cumand off anuther parson, and nott mi
one mistress, I begg ure Onur to say nothing of what past, and
belive me to be, sir, ure Onur's umble servant to cumand till deth,
“HONOUR BLACKMORE.”
Various were the conjectures which Jones entertained on this step of
Lady Bellaston; who, in reality, had little farther design than to
secure within her own house the repository of a secret, which she
chose should make no farther progress than it had made already; but
mostly, she desired to keep it from the ears of Sophia; for though
that young lady was almost the only one who would never have repeated
it again, her ladyship could not persuade herself of this; since, as
she now hated poor Sophia with most implacable hatred, she conceived a
reciprocal hatred to herself to be lodged in the tender breast of our
heroine, where no such passion had ever yet found an entrance.
While Jones was terrifying himself with the apprehension of a thousand
dreadful machinations, and deep political designs, which he imagined
to be at the bottom of the promotion of Honour, Fortune, who hitherto
seems to have been an utter enemy to his match with Sophia, tried a
new method to put a final end to it, by throwing a temptation in his
way, which in his present desperate situation it seemed unlikely he
should be able to resist.
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