History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by Henry Fielding
Chapter xii.
1256 words | Chapter 320
A discovery made by Partridge.
While Jones was exulting in the consciousness of his integrity,
Partridge came capering into the room, as was his custom when he
brought, or fancied he brought, any good tidings. He had been
despatched that morning by his master, with orders to endeavour, by
the servants of Lady Bellaston, or by any other means, to discover
whither Sophia had been conveyed; and he now returned, and with a
joyful countenance told our heroe that he had found the lost bird. “I
have seen, sir,” says he, “Black George, the gamekeeper, who is one of
the servants whom the squire hath brought with him to town. I knew him
presently, though I have not seen him these several years; but you
know, sir, he is a very remarkable man, or, to use a purer phrase, he
hath a most remarkable beard, the largest and blackest I ever saw. It
was some time, however, before Black George could recollect me.”
“Well, but what is your good news?” cries Jones; “what do you know of
my Sophia?” “You shall know presently, sir,” answered Partridge, “I am
coming to it as fast as I can. You are so impatient, sir, you would
come at the infinitive mood before you can get to the imperative. As I
was saying, sir, it was some time before he recollected my
face.”--“Confound your face!” cries Jones, “what of my Sophia?” “Nay,
sir,” answered Partridge, “I know nothing more of Madam Sophia than
what I am going to tell you; and I should have told you all before
this if you had not interrupted me; but if you look so angry at me you
will frighten all of it out of my head, or, to use a purer phrase, out
of my memory. I never saw you look so angry since the day we left
Upton, which I shall remember if I was to live a thousand
years.”--“Well, pray go on your own way,” said Jones: “you are
resolved to make me mad I find.” “Not for the world,” answered
Partridge, “I have suffered enough for that already; which, as I said,
I shall bear in my remembrance the longest day I have to live.” “Well,
but Black George?” cries Jones. “Well, sir, as I was saying, it was a
long time before he could recollect me; for, indeed, I am very much
altered since I saw him. _Non sum qualis eram._ I have had troubles in
the world, and nothing alters a man so much as grief. I have heard it
will change the colour of a man's hair in a night. However, at last,
know me he did, that's sure enough; for we are both of an age, and
were at the same charity school. George was a great dunce, but no
matter for that; all men do not thrive in the world according to their
learning. I am sure I have reason to say so; but it will be all one a
thousand years hence. Well, sir, where was I?--O--well, we no sooner
knew each other, than, after many hearty shakes by the hand, we agreed
to go to an alehouse and take a pot, and by good luck the beer was
some of the best I have met with since I have been in town. Now, sir,
I am coming to the point; for no sooner did I name you, and told him
that you and I came to town together, and had lived together ever
since, than he called for another pot, and swore he would drink to
your health; and indeed he drank your health so heartily that I was
overjoyed to see there was so much gratitude left in the world; and
after we had emptied that pot I said I would buy my pot too, and so we
drank another to your health; and then I made haste home to tell you
the news.”
“What news?” cries Jones, “you have not mentioned a word of my
Sophia!” “Bless me! I had like to have forgot that. Indeed, we
mentioned a great deal about young Madam Western, and George told me
all; that Mr Blifil is coming to town in order to be married to her.
He had best make haste then, says I, or somebody will have her before
he comes; and, indeed, says I, Mr Seagrim, it is a thousand pities
somebody should not have her; for he certainly loves her above all the
women in the world. I would have both you and she know, that it is not
for her fortune he follows her; for I can assure you, as to matter of
that, there is another lady, one of much greater quality and fortune
than she can pretend to, who is so fond of somebody that she comes
after him day and night.”
Here Jones fell into a passion with Partridge, for having, as he said,
betrayed him; but the poor fellow answered, he had mentioned no name:
“Besides, sir,” said he, “I can assure you George is sincerely your
friend, and wished Mr Blifil at the devil more than once; nay, he said
he would do anything in his power upon earth to serve you; and so I am
convinced he will. Betray you, indeed! why, I question whether you
have a better friend than George upon earth, except myself, or one
that would go farther to serve you.”
“Well,” says Jones, a little pacified, “you say this fellow, who, I
believe, indeed, is enough inclined to be my friend, lives in the same
house with Sophia?”
“In the same house!” answered Partridge; “why, sir, he is one of the
servants of the family, and very well drest I promise you he is; if it
was not for his black beard you would hardly know him.”
“One service then at least he may do me,” says Jones: “sure he can
certainly convey a letter to my Sophia.”
“You have hit the nail _ad unguem_” cries Partridge; “how came I not
to think of it? I will engage he shall do it upon the very first
mentioning.”
“Well, then,” said Jones, “do you leave me at present, and I will
write a letter, which you shall deliver to him to-morrow morning; for
I suppose you know where to find him.”
“O yes, sir,” answered Partridge, “I shall certainly find him again;
there is no fear of that. The liquor is too good for him to stay away
long. I make no doubt but he will be there every day he stays in
town.”
“So you don't know the street then where my Sophia is lodged?” cries
Jones.
“Indeed, sir, I do,” says Partridge.
“What is the name of the street?” cries Jones.
“The name, sir? why, here, sir, just by,” answered Partridge, “not
above a street or two off. I don't, indeed, know the very name; for,
as he never told me, if I had asked, you know, it might have put some
suspicion into his head. No, no, sir, let me alone for that. I am too
cunning for that, I promise you.”
“Thou art most wonderfully cunning, indeed,” replied Jones; “however,
I will write to my charmer, since I believe you will be cunning enough
to find him to-morrow at the alehouse.”
And now, having dismissed the sagacious Partridge, Mr Jones sat
himself down to write, in which employment we shall leave him for a
time. And here we put an end to the fifteenth book.
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