History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by Henry Fielding
Chapter x.
1258 words | Chapter 331
The consequence of the preceding visit.
Mr Fitzpatrick having received the letter before mentioned from Mrs
Western, and being by that means acquainted with the place to which
his wife was retired, returned directly to Bath, and thence the day
after set forward to London.
The reader hath been already often informed of the jealous temper of
this gentleman. He may likewise be pleased to remember the suspicion
which he had conceived of Jones at Upton, upon his finding him in the
room with Mrs Waters; and, though sufficient reasons had afterwards
appeared entirely to clear up that suspicion, yet now the reading so
handsome a character of Mr Jones from his wife, caused him to reflect
that she likewise was in the inn at the same time, and jumbled
together such a confusion of circumstances in a head which was
naturally none of the clearest, that the whole produced that
green-eyed monster mentioned by Shakespear in his tragedy of Othello.
And now, as he was enquiring in the street after his wife, and had
just received directions to the door, unfortunately Mr Jones was
issuing from it.
Fitzpatrick did not yet recollect the face of Jones; however, seeing a
young well-dressed fellow coming from his wife, he made directly up to
him, and asked him what he had been doing in that house? “for I am
sure,” said he, “you must have been in it, as I saw you come out of
it.”
Jones answered very modestly, “That he had been visiting a lady
there.” To which Fitzpatrick replied, “What business have you with the
lady?” Upon which Jones, who now perfectly remembered the voice,
features, and indeed coat, of the gentleman, cried out----“Ha, my good
friend! give me your hand; I hope there is no ill blood remaining
between us, upon a small mistake which happened so long ago.”
“Upon my soul, sir,” said Fitzpatrick, “I don't know your name nor
your face.” “Indeed, sir,” said Jones, “neither have I the pleasure of
knowing your name, but your face I very well remember to have seen
before at Upton, where a foolish quarrel happened between us, which,
if it is not made up yet, we will now make up over a bottle.”
“At Upton!” cried the other;----“Ha! upon my soul, I believe your name
is Jones?” “Indeed,” answered he, “it is.”--“O! upon my soul,” cries
Fitzpatrick, “you are the very man I wanted to meet.--Upon my soul I
will drink a bottle with you presently; but first I will give you a
great knock over the pate. There is for you, you rascal. Upon my soul,
if you do not give me satisfaction for that blow, I will give you
another.” And then, drawing his sword, put himself in a posture of
defence, which was the only science he understood.
Jones was a little staggered by the blow, which came somewhat
unexpectedly; but presently recovering himself he also drew, and
though he understood nothing of fencing, prest on so boldly upon
Fitzpatrick, that he beat down his guard, and sheathed one half of his
sword in the body of the said gentleman, who had no sooner received it
than he stept backwards, dropped the point of his sword, and leaning
upon it, cried, “I have satisfaction enough: I am a dead man.”
“I hope not,” cries Jones, “but whatever be the consequence, you must
be sensible you have drawn it upon yourself.” At this instant a number
of fellows rushed in and seized Jones, who told them he should make no
resistance, and begged some of them at least would take care of the
wounded gentleman.
“Ay,” cries one of the fellows, “the wounded gentleman will be taken
care enough of; for I suppose he hath not many hours to live. As for
you, sir, you have a month at least good yet.” “D--n me, Jack,” said
another, “he hath prevented his voyage; he's bound to another port
now;” and many other such jests was our poor Jones made the subject of
by these fellows, who were indeed the gang employed by Lord Fellamar,
and had dogged him into the house of Mrs Fitzpatrick, waiting for him
at the corner of the street when this unfortunate accident happened.
The officer who commanded this gang very wisely concluded that his
business was now to deliver his prisoner into the hands of the civil
magistrate. He ordered him, therefore, to be carried to a
public-house, where, having sent for a constable, he delivered him to
his custody.
The constable, seeing Mr Jones very well drest, and hearing that the
accident had happened in a duel, treated his prisoner with great
civility, and at his request dispatched a messenger to enquire after
the wounded gentleman, who was now at a tavern under the surgeon's
hands. The report brought back was, that the wound was certainly
mortal, and there were no hopes of life. Upon which the constable
informed Jones that he must go before a justice. He answered,
“Wherever you please; I am indifferent as to what happens to me; for
though I am convinced I am not guilty of murder in the eye of the law,
yet the weight of blood I find intolerable upon my mind.”
Jones was now conducted before the justice, where the surgeon who
dressed Mr Fitzpatrick appeared, and deposed that he believed the
wound to be mortal; upon which the prisoner was committed to the
Gatehouse. It was very late at night, so that Jones would not send for
Partridge till the next morning; and, as he never shut his eyes till
seven, so it was near twelve before the poor fellow, who was greatly
frightened at not hearing from his master so long, received a message
which almost deprived him of his being when he heard it.
He went to the Gatehouse with trembling knees and a beating heart, and
was no sooner arrived in the presence of Jones than he lamented the
misfortune that had befallen him with many tears, looking all the
while frequently about him in great terror; for as the news now
arrived that Mr Fitzpatrick was dead, the poor fellow apprehended
every minute that his ghost would enter the room. At last he delivered
him a letter, which he had like to have forgot, and which came from
Sophia by the hands of Black George.
Jones presently dispatched every one out of the room, and, having
eagerly broke open the letter, read as follows:--
“You owe the hearing from me again to an accident which I own
surprizes me. My aunt hath just now shown me a letter from you to
Lady Bellaston, which contains a proposal of marriage. I am
convinced it is your own hand; and what more surprizes me is, that
it is dated at the very time when you would have me imagine you was
under such concern on my account.--I leave you to comment on this
fact. All I desire is, that your name may never more be mentioned
to
“S. W.”
Of the present situation of Mr Jones's mind, and of the pangs with
which he was now tormented, we cannot give the reader a better idea
than by saying, his misery was such that even Thwackum would almost
have pitied him. But, bad as it is, we shall at present leave him in
it, as his good genius (if he really had any) seems to have done. And
here we put an end to the sixteenth book of our history.
Reading Tips
Use arrow keys to navigate
Press 'N' for next chapter
Press 'P' for previous chapter