 Tom Jones by Henry Fielding, Book 13, Chapter 7 Containing the whole humours of a masquerade. Our Cavaliers now arrived at that temple where Heydigger, the great arbiter delisarium, the great high priest of pleasure, presides, and like other heathen priests, imposes on his votaries by the pretended presence of the deity, when in reality no such deity is there. Master Nightingale, having taken a turn or two with his companion, soon left him and walked off with a female saying, Now you are here, sir, you must beat about for your own game. Jones began to entertain strong hopes that his Sophia was present, and these hopes gave him more spirits than the lights, the music, and the company, though these are pretty strong antidotes against the spleen. He now accosted every woman he saw, whose stature, shape, or air bore any resemblance to his angel, to all of whom he endeavored to say something smart, in order to engage in answer, by which he might discover that voice which he thought it impossible he should mistake. Some of these answered by a question and a squeaking voice. Do you know me? Much the greater number said, I don't know you, sir, and nothing more. Some called him an impertinent fellow, some made him no answer at all, some said, Indeed, I don't know your voice, and I shall have nothing to say to you. And many gave him as kind answers as he could wish, but not in the voice he desired to hear. Whilst he was talking with one of these last, who was in the habit of a shepherdess, a lady in a domino came up to him, and slapping him on the shoulder whispered to him at the same time in the ear, If you talk any longer with that trellop, I will acquaint Miss Western. Jones no sooner heard that name, than immediately quitting his former companion he applied to the domino, begging and treating her to show him the lady she had mentioned, if she was then in the room. The mask walked hastily to the upper end of the innermost apartment before she spoke, and then, instead of answering him, sat down and declared she was tired. Jones sat down by her, and still persisted in his entreaties. At last the lady coldly answered, I imagine Mr. Jones had been a more discerning lover than to suffer any disguise to conceal his mistress from him. Is she here, then, madam? replied Jones with some vehemence. Upon which the lady cried, Hush, sir, you will be observed. I promise you upon my honour, Miss Western is not here. Jones, now taking the mask by the hand, fell to entreat her in the most earnest manner to acquaint him where he might find Sophia, and when he could obtain no direct answer, he began to upgrade her gently for having disappointed him the day before, and concluded, saying, Indeed, my good fairy queen, I know your majesty very well notwithstanding the affected disguise of your voice. Indeed, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, it is a little cruel to divert yourself at the expense of my torments. The mast answered, Though you have so ingeniously discovered me, I must still speak in the same voice, lest I should be known by others. And do you think, good sir, that I have no greater regard for my cousin than to insist in carrying on a affair between you two, which must stand in her ruin as well as your own? Besides, I promise you, my cousin is not mad enough to consent to her own destruction if you are so much her enemy is to tempt her to it. Alas, madam, said Jones, you little know my heart when you call me an enemy of Sophia, and yet to ruin anyone, cries the other, you will allow is the act of an enemy, and when by the same act you must knowingly and certainly bring ruin on yourself, is it not folly or madness as well as guilt? Now, sir, my cousin hath very little more than her father will please to give her, very little from one of her fashion. You know him, and you know your own situation. Jones vowed he had no such design on Sophia, that he would rather suffer the most violent of deaths and sacrifice her interest to his desires. He said, he knew how unworthy he was of her, every way, and that he had long ago resolved to quit all such aspiring thoughts, but that some strange accidents had made him desirous to see her once more when he promised he would take leave of her forever. No, madam, concluded he, my love is not of that base kind which seeks its own satisfaction at the expense of what is most dear to its object. I would sacrifice everything to the possession of my Sophia, but Sophia herself. Though the reader may have already conceived no very sublime idea of the virtue of the lady in the mask, and though possibly she may hear out to appear not to deserve one of the first characters of her sex, yet it is certain these generous sentiments made a strong impression upon her and greatly added to the affection she had before conceived for our young hero. This lady now, after a silence of a few moments, said, she did not see his pretensions to Sophia so much in the light of presumptions as of imprudence. Young fellows, says she, can never have two aspiring thoughts. I love ambition in a young man, and I would have you cultivated as much as possible. Perhaps you may succeed with those who are infinitely superior in fortune. Nay, I am convinced there are women. But don't you think me a strange creature, Mr. Jones, to be thus giving advice to a man with whom I am so little acquainted, and one with whose behavior to me I have so little reason to be pleased? Here Jones began to apologize, and I hope he had not offended in anything he said of her cousin, to which the mask answered. And are you so little versed in the sex to imagine that you can well affront a lady more than by entertaining her with your passion for another woman? If the fairy queen had conceived no better opinion of your gallantry, she would scarce have appointed you to meet her at the masquerade. Jones had never less inclination to and more than at present. But gallantry to the ladies was among his principles of honor, and he held it as much incumbent on him to accept a challenge to love, as if it had been a challenge to fight. Nay, his very love to Sophia, made it necessary for him to keep well with the lady, as he made no doubt but she was capable of bringing him into the presence of the other. He began, therefore, to make a very warm answer to her last speech, when a mask and the character of an old woman joined them. This mask was one of those ladies who go to a masquerade only to vent ill nature, by telling people rude truths, and by endeavoring, as the phrase is, to spoil as much sport as they are able. This good lady, therefore, having observed Jones and his friend, whom she knew well, in close consultation together in a corner of the room, concluded she would nowhere satisfy her spleen better than by interrupting them. She attacked them, therefore, and soon drove them from their retirement, nor was she contented with this but pursued them to every place which they shifted to avoid her, till Mr. Nightingale, seeing the distress of his friend, at last relieved him, and engaged the old woman in another pursuit. While Jones and his mask were walking together about the room, to rid themselves of the teaser, he observed his lady speak to several masks, with the same freedom of acquaintances if they had been barefaced. He could not help expressing his surprise at this, saying, Sure, madam, you must have infinite discernment to know people in all disguises. To which the lady answered, You cannot conceive anything more insipid and childish than a masquerade to the people of fashion, who in general know one another as well here, as when they meet in an assembly or a drawing-room. Nor will any woman of condition converse with a person with whom she is not acquainted. In short, the generality of persons whom you see here may more properly be said to kill time in this place than in any other, and generally retire from hints more tired than from the longest sermon. To say the truth I begin to be in that situation myself, and if I have any faculty at guessing, you are not much better pleased. I protest it would be almost charity in me to go home for your sake. I know but one charity equal to it, cries Jones, and that is to suffer me to wait on you home. Sure, answered the lady, you have a strange opinion of me to imagine that upon such an acquaintance I would let you into my doors at this time of night. I fancy you impute the friendship I have shown my cousin to some other motive. Confess honestly. Don't you consider this contrived interview as a little better than a downright asignation? Are you used, Mr. Jones, to make these sudden conquests? I am not used, madam, said Jones, to submit to such sudden conquests, but as you have taken my heart by surprise the rest of my body hath a right to follow, so you must pardon me if I resolve to attend you wherever you go. He accompanied these words with some proper actions, upon which the lady, after a gentle rebuke, and saying their familiarity would be observed, told him, she was going to sup with an acquaintance with her, she hoped he would not follow her, for if you should, said she, I shall be thought an unaccountable creature, though my friend indeed is not sensorious. Yet I help you won't follow me, I protest I shall not know what to say if you do. The lady presently after quitted the masquerade, and Jones, notwithstanding the severe prohibition he had received, presumed to attend her. He was now reduced to the same dilemma we have mentioned before, namely, the one of a shilling, and could not relieve it by borrowing as before. He therefore walked boldly on after the chair in which his lady rode, pursued by a grand hazzah from all the chairman present, who wisely take the best care they can to discountance all walking a foot by their bedders. Luckily, however, the gentry who attended the opera house were too busy to quit their stations, and as the lateness of the hour prevented him from meeting many of their brethren in the street, he proceeded without molestation in a dress which, at another season, would have certainly raised a mob at his heels. The lady was set down in the street not far from Hanover Square, where the door being presently open she was carried in, and the gentleman, without any ceremony, walked in after her. Jones and his companion were now together in a very well furnished and well-warmed room, when the female, still speaking in her masquerade voice, said she was surprised at her friend, who must absolutely have forgot her appointment, at which, after venting much resentment, she suddenly expressed some apprehension from Jones, and asked them what the world would think of their having been alone together in a house at that time of night. But instead of a direct answer to so important a question, Jones began to be very importunate with the lady to unmask, and at length, having prevailed, there appeared not Mrs. Fitzpatrick, but the lady, Belliston, herself. It would be tedious to give the particular conversation which consisted of very common and ordinary currences, and which lasted from two till six o'clock in the morning. It is sufficient to mention all of it that is any wise material to this history. And this was a promise that the lady would endeavor to find Sophia, and in a few days bring him to an interview with her, on condition that he would then take his leave of her. When this was thoroughly settled, and a second meeting in the evening appointed at the same place, they separated, the lady returned to her house, and Jones to his lodgings. CHAPTER VIII. Having a scene of distress which will appear very extraordinary to most of our readers. Jones having refreshed himself with a few hours sleep, summoned Partridge to his presence, and delivering him a banknote of fifty pounds, ordered him to go and change it. Partridge received this with sparkling eyes, though, when he came to reflect farther, it raised in him some suspicions not very advantageous to the honor of his master. To these the dreadful idea he had of the masquerade, the disguise in which his master had gone out and returned, and his having been abroad all night contributed. In plain language the only way he could possibly find to account for the possession of this note was by robbery, and to confess the truth the reader, unless he should suspect it was owing to the generosity of Lady Belliston, can hardly imagine any other. To clear, therefore, the honor of Mr. Jones, and to do justice by the liberality of the lady, he had really received this present from her, who, though she did not give much into the hackney charities of the age such as building hospitals, etc., was not, however, entirely void of that Christian virtue, and conceive, very rightly I think, that a young fellow of merit, without a shilling in the world, was no improper object of this virtue. Mr. Jones and Mr. Nightingale had been invited to dine this day with Mrs. Miller. At the appointed hour, therefore, the two young gentlemen, with the two girls, attended in the parlor, where they waited from three till almost five before the good woman appeared. She had been out of town to visit a relation, of whom, at a return, she gave the following account. I hope, gentlemen, you will pardon my making you wait. I am sure if you knew the occasion. I have been to see a cousin of mine about six miles off, who now lies in. It should be a warning to all persons, says she, looking at her daughters. How they marry indiscreetly. There is no happiness in this world without a competency. Oh, Nancy, how shall I describe the wretched condition in which I found your poor cousin? She is scarcely in a week, and there was she, this dreadful weather in a cold room without any curtains to her bed, and not a bushel of coals in her house to supply her with fire. Her second son, that sweet little fellow, lies ill of a Quincy in the same bed with his mother, for there is no other bed in the house. Poor little Tommy, I believe, Nancy, you will never see your favorite anymore, for he is really very ill. The rest of the children are in pretty good health, but Molly, I am afraid, will do herself an injury. She is with thirteen years old, Mr. Nightingale, and yet in my life I never saw a better nurse. She tends both her mother and her brother, and what is wonderful in a creature so young, she shows all the cheerfulness in the world to her mother, and yet I saw her. I saw the poor child, Mr. Nightingale, turn about, and privately wipe the tears from her eyes. Here Mrs. Miller was prevented by her own tears from going on, and it was not, I believe, a person present who did not accompany her in them. At length she a little recovered herself and proceeded thus. In all this distress the mother supports her spirits in a surprising manner. The danger of her son sits heaviest upon her, and yet she endeavors as much as possible to conceal even this concern on her husband's account. Her grief, however, sometimes gets a better of all her endeavors, for she was always extravagantly fond of this boy, and a most sensible, sweet-tempered creature it is. I protest I was never more affected in my life than when I heard the little wretch, who was hardly yet seven years old while his mother was wetting him with her tears, beggar to be comforted. Indeed, mama, cried the child, I shan't die, God Almighty I'm sure won't take Tommy away, let heaven be ever so fine a place I'd rather stay here and starve with you and my papa than go to it. Pardon me, gentlemen, I can't help it. Says she, wiping her eyes. But sensibility and affection in a child, and yet, perhaps, he is the least object of pity. For a day or two will most probably place him beyond the reach of all human evils. The father is indeed most worthy of compassion. Poor man, his countenance is the very picture of horror, and he looks like one rather dead than alive. Oh, heavens, what a scene did I behold at my first coming into the room! The good creature was lying behind his bolster, supporting it once both his child and his wife. He had nothing on but a thin waistcoat, for his coat was spread over the bed to supply the wand of blankets. When he rose up at my entrance I scarce knew him. As calmly a man, Mr. Jones, within this fortnight as you ever beheld, Mr. Nightingale has seen him. His eyes sunk, his face pale with a long beard, his body shivering with cold and worn with hunger, too, for my cousin says she can hardly prevail upon him to eat. He told me himself in a whisper, he told me, I can't repeat it. He said he could not bear to eat the bread his children wanted. And yet, can you believe it, gentlemen? In all this misery, his wife has as good coddle as if she lay in the midst of the greatest affluence. I tasted it, and I scarce ever tasted better. The means of procuring her this, he said, he believed was sent to him by an angel from heaven. I know not what he meant, for I had not spirits enough to ask a single question. This was a love match, as they call it. On both sides, that is a match between two beggars. I must indeed say I never saw a fonder couple, but what is their fondness good for but to torment each other? Indeed, Mama, cries Nancy. I have always looked upon my cousin Anderson, for that was her name, as one of the happiest of women. I am sure, says Mrs. Miller, the case at present is much otherwise, for anyone might have discerned that the tender consideration of each other's sufferings makes the most intolerable part of their calamity, both to the husband and the wife, compared to which hunger and cold as they affect their own persons only are scarce evils. Nay, the very children, the youngest, which is not two years old, accepted, feel in the same manner for they are most loving family, and if they had but a bare competency would be the happiest people in the world. Well, I never saw the least sign of misery at their house, replied Nancy. I am sure my heart bleeds for what you now tell me. Oh, child! answered the mother. She hath always endeavored to make the best of everything. They have always been in great distress, but indeed this absolute ruin hath been brought upon them by others. The poor man was bail for the villain his brother, and about a week ago the very day before her lying in their goods were all carried away, and sold by an execution. He sent a letter to me of it by one of the bailiffs, which the villain never delivered. What must he think of my suffering a week to pass before he heard of me? It was not with dry eyes that Jones heard this narrative. When it was ended he took Mrs. Miller apart with him to another room, and delivering her his purse, in which was a sum of fifty pounds, desired her to send as much of it as she thought proper to these poor people. The look which Mrs. Miller gave Jones on this occasion is not easy to be described. She burst into a kind of agony of transport, and cried out, Good heavens! Is there such a man in the world? But recollecting herself, she said, Indeed I know one such, but can there be another? I hope, madam, Christ Jones, there are many who have common humanity, for to relieve such distresses in our fellow creatures can hardly be called more. Mrs. Miller then took ten guineas, which were the utmost he could prevail with her to accept, and said, She would find some means of conveying them early the next morning, adding, That she had herself done some little matter for the poor people, and had not left them in quite so much misery as she found them. They then returned to the parlor, where Nightingale expressed much concern at the dreadful situation of these wretches, whom indeed he knew, for he had seen them more than once at Mrs. Miller's. He invaded against the folly of making oneself liable for the debts of others, vented many bitter execrations against the brother, and concluded with wishing something could be done for the unfortunate family. Suppose, madam, said he, You should recommend them to Mr. Allworthy? Or what do you think of a collection? I will give them a guinea with all my heart. Mrs. Miller made no answer, and Nancy, to whom her mother had whispered the generosity of Jones, turned pale upon the occasion, though, if either of them was angry with Nightingale, it was surely without reason. For the liberality of Jones, if he had known it, was not an example which he had any obligation to follow, and there are thousands who would not have contributed a single half penny, as indeed he did not in effect, for he made no tender of anything, and therefore, as the others thought proper to make no demand, he kept his money in his pocket. I have, in truth, observed, and shall never have a better opportunity than at present to communicate my observation, that the world are in general divided into two opinions concerning charity, which are the very reverse of each other. One party seems to hold that all acts of this kind are to be esteemed as voluntary gifts, and however little you give, if indeed no more than your good wishes, you acquire a great degree of merit in so doing. Others, on the contrary, appear to be as firmly persuaded that beneficence is a positive duty, and that whenever the rich fall greatly short of their ability in relieving the distresses of the poor, their pitiful largeses are so far from being meritorious that they have only performed their duty by halves, and are in some sense more contemptible than those who have entirely neglected it. To reconcile these different opinions is not in my power. I shall only add that the givers are generally of the former sentiment, and the receivers are almost universally inclined to the latter. In the evening Jones met his lady again, and a long conversation again ensued between them, but as it consisted only of the same ordinary occurrences as before, we shall avoid mentioning particulars, which we despair of rendering agreeable to the reader, unless he is one whose devotion to the fair sex, like that of the papus to their saints, wants to be raised by the help of pictures. But I am so far from desiring to exhibit such pictures to the public that I would wish to draw curtain over those that have been lately set forth in certain French novels, very bungling copies of which have been presented to us here under the name of translations. Jones grew still more and more impatient to see Sophia, and finding, after repeated interviews with Lady Belliston, no likelihood of obtaining this by her means, for, on the contrary, the lady began to treat even the mention of the name of Sophia with resentment. He resolved to try some other method. He made no doubt, but that Lady Belliston knew where his angel was, so he thought it most likely that some of her servants should be acquainted with the same secret. Partridge, therefore, was employed to get acquainted with those servants in order to fish this secret out of them. Few situations can be imagined more uneasy than that to which his poor master was at present reduced. Four, besides the difficulties he met with in discovering Sophia, besides the fears he had of having disablized her, and the assurances he had received from Lady Belliston of the resolution which Sophia had taken against him, and of her having purposely concealed herself from him, which he had sufficient reason to believe might be true, he had still a difficulty to combat which it was not in the power of his mistress to remove. However kind her inclination might have been. This was the exposing of her to be disinherited of all her father's estate, the almost inevitable consequence of their coming together without a consent, which she had no hopes of ever obtaining. Add to all these the many obligations which Lady Belliston, whose violent fondness we can no longer conceal, had heaped upon him, so that by her means he was now become one of the best dressed men about town, and was not only relieved from those ridiculous distresses we have before mentioned, but was actually raised to a state of affluence beyond what he had ever known. Now, though there are many gentlemen who very well reconcile it to their consciences, to possess themselves with the whole fortune of a woman without making her any kind of return, yet to a mind the proprietor of which doth not deserve to be hanged, nothing is, I believe, more irksome than to support love with gratitude only, especially where inclination pulls the heart a contrary way. Such was the unhappy case of Jones, for though the virtuous love he bore to Sophia, and which left very little affection for any other woman, had been entirely out of the question. He could never have been able to have made any adequate return to the generous passion of this lady, who had indeed been once an object of desire, but was now entered at least into the autumn of life, though she wore all the gaiety of youth, both in her dress and manner. Nay, she contrived still to maintain the roses in her cheeks, but these, like flowers forced out of season by art, had none of that lively blooming freshness with which nature, at the proper time, bedecks her own productions. She had, besides a certain imperfection, which renders some flowers, though very beautiful to the eye, very improper to be placed in a wilderness of sweets, and what above all others is most disagreeable to the breath of love. Though Jones saw all these discouragements on the one side, he felt his obligations as full as strongly on the other, nor did he less plainly discern the ardent passion once those obligation preceded. The extreme violence of which, if he failed to equal, he well knew the lady would think him ungrateful, and what is worse, he would have thought himself so. He knew the tacit consideration upon which all her favors were conferred, and as his necessity obliged him to accept them, so as honour he concluded forced him to pay the price. This therefore he resolved to do, whatever misery it cost him, and to devote himself to her, from that great principle of justice by which the laws of some countries oblige a debtor who is no otherwise capable of discharging his debt to become the slave of his creditor. While he was meditating on these matters, he received the following note from the lady. A very foolish but a very perverse accident has happened since our last meeting, which makes it improper I should see you any more at the usual place. I will, if possible, contrive some other place by tomorrow, in the meantime, adieu. This disappointment perhaps the reader may conclude was not very great, but if it was, he was quickly relieved, for in less than an hour afterwards another note was brought him from the same hand which contained his fellows. I have altered my mind since I wrote, a change of which, if you are no stranger to the tenderest of all passions, you will not wonder at. I am now resolved to see you this evening at my own house, whatever may be the consequence. Come to me exactly at seven. I dine abroad, but will be at home by that time. A day I find to those that sincerely love seems longer than I imagined. If you should accidentally be a few moments before me, bid them show you into the drawing-room. To confess the truth, Jones was less pleased with this last epistle than he had been with the former, as he was prevented by it from complying with the earnest entreaties of Mr. Nightingale, with whom he had now contracted much intimacy and friendship. These entreaties were to go with that young gentleman and his company to a new play, which was to be acted that evening, and which a very large party had agreed to dam, from some dislike they had taken to the author, who was a friend to one of Mr. Nightingale s acquaintance. And this sort of fun, our hero, we are ashamed to confess, would willingly have preferred to the above kind of appointment, but his honor got the better of his inclination. Before we attend him to this intended interview with the lady, we think proper to account for both the preceding note, as the reader may possibly be a little surprised at the imprudence of Lady Belliston in bringing her lover to the very house where her rival was lodged. First then, the mistress of the house where these lovers had hitherto met, and who had been, for some years, a pensioner to that lady, was now become a Methodist, and had that very morning waited upon her ladyship, and after rebuking her very severely for her past life, had positively declared that she would, on no account, be instrumental in carrying on any of her affairs for the future. The hurry of spirits into which this accident through the lady made her despair of possibly finding on any other convenience to meet Jones that evening, but as she began a little to recover from her uneasiness at this disappointment, she set her thoughts to work, when luckily it came to her head to propose to Sophia to go to the play, which was immediately consented to, and a proper lady provided for her companion. Mrs. Honor was likewise dispatched with Mrs. Itoff on the same errand of pleasure, and thus her own house was left free for the safe reception of Mr. Jones, with whom she promised herself two or three hours of uninterrupted conversation after the return from a place where she dined, which was at a friend's house in a pretty distant part of the town, near her old place of assignation, where she had engaged herself before she was well apprised of the revolution that had happened in the mind and morals of her late confidant. End of Chapter 9 Tom Jones by Henry Fielding Book 13 Chapter 10 A chapter which, though short, may draw tears from some eyes. Mr. Jones was just dressed to wait on Lady Belliston when Mrs. Miller wrapped at his door, and being admitted very earnestly desired his company below stairs to drink tea in the parlor. Upon his entrance into the room she presently introduced a person to him saying, This, sir, is my cousin, who hath been so greatly beholden to your goodness, for which he begs to return his sincerest thanks. The man had scarce entered upon that speech which Mrs. Miller had so kindly prefaced, when both Jones and he, looking steadfastly at each other, showed at once the utmost tokens of surprise. The voice of the latter began instantly to falter, and instead of finishing his speech he sunk down into a chair, crying, It is so! I am convinced it is so! Bless me! What's the meaning of this? cries Mrs. Miller. You are not ill, I hope, cousin, some water, a drum this instant. Be not frightened, madam, cries Jones. I have almost as much need of a drum as your cousin. We are equally surprised at this unexpected meeting. Your cousin is an acquaintance of mine, Mrs. Miller. An acquaintance! cries a man. Oh, heaven! I, an acquaintance, repeated Jones, and an honored acquaintance, too, when I do not love and honor the man who dears venture everything to preserve his wife and children from instant destruction, may I have a friend capable of disowning me in adversity. Oh, you are an excellent young man, cries Mrs. Miller. Yes, indeed, poor creature. He hath ventured everything. If he had not had one of the best of constitutions, it must have killed him. Cousin! cried the man, who had now pretty well recovered himself. This is the angel from heaven whom I meant. This is he to whom, before I saw you, I owed the preservation of my Peggy. He it was to whose generosity every comfort, every support which I have procured for her was owing. He is indeed the worthiest, bravest, noblest of all human beings. Oh, cousin! I have obligations to this gentleman of such a nature. Mention nothing of obligations, cries Jones eagerly. Not a word I insist upon it, not a word. Meaning, I suppose, that he would not have him betray the affair of the robbery to any person. If, by the trifle you have received from me, I have preserved a whole family, sure, pleasure was never bought so cheap. Oh, sir! cries the man. I wish you could this instant see my house. If any person had ever a right to the pleasure you mention, I am convinced it is yourself. My cousin tells me she acquainted you with the distress in which he found us. That, sir, is greatly removed and chiefly by your goodness. My children have now a bed to lie on, and they have eternal blessings reward you for it. They have bread to eat. My little boy has recovered. My wife is out of danger, and I am happy. All, all owing to you, sir, and to my cousin here, one of the best of women. Indeed, sir, I must see you at my house. Indeed, my wife must see you and thank you. My children, too, must express their gratitude. Indeed, sir, they are not without a sense of their obligation. But what is my feeling when I reflect to whom I owe that they are now capable of expressing their gratitude? Oh, sir! The little hearts which you have warmed, had now been cold as ice, without your assistance. Here Jones attempted to prevent the poor man from proceeding, but indeed the overflowing of his own heart would have itself have stopped his words. And now Mrs. Miller likewise began to pour forth thanksgivings, as well as in her own name, as in that of her cousin, and concluded with saying, she doubted not that such goodness would meet with a glorious reward. Jones answered, he had been sufficiently rewarded already. Your cousin's account, madame, said he, hath given me a sensation more pleasing than I have ever known. He must be a wretch who is unmoved at hearing such a story. Health transporting, then, must be the thought of having happily acted apart in this scene. If there are men who cannot feel the delight of giving happiness to others, I sincerely pity them, as they are incapable of tasting what is, in my opinion, a greater honor, a higher interest, and a sweeter pleasure than the ambitious, the avaricious, or the voluptuous man can ever obtain. The hour of appointment being now come, Jones was forced to take a hasty leave, but not before he had hardly shaken his friend by the hand, and desired to see him again as soon as possible, promising that he would himself take the first opportunity of visiting him at his own house. He then stepped into his chair, and proceeded to Lady Belliston's, greatly exulting in the happiness which he had procured to this poor family. Nor could he forbear reflecting, without horror, on the dreadful consequences which must have attended them, had he listened rather to the voice of strict justice than to that of mercy when he was attacked on the high road. Mrs. Miller sung forth the praises of Jones during the whole evening, in which Mr. Anderson, while he stayed so passionately accompanied her, that he was often on the very point of mentioning the circumstance of the robbery. However, he luckily recollected himself, and avoided an indiscretion which would have been so much the greater, as he knew Mrs. Miller to be extremely strict and nice in her principles. He was likewise well apprised of the loquacity of this lady, and yet such was his gratitude that it had almost got the better of both discretion and shame, and made him publish that which would have defamed his own character, rather than admit any circumstances which might do the fullest honour to his benefactor. End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 In which the Reader will be surprised Mr. Jones was rather earlier than the time appointed, and earlier than the lady whose arrival was hindered, not only by the distance of the place where she dined, but by some other cross-accidents very vexatious to one in her situation of mind. He was accordingly shown into the drawing-room, where he had not been many minutes before the door opened, and in came, no other than Sophia herself, who had left the play before the end of the first act, for this, as we have already said, being a new play, at which two large parties met, the one to dam and the other to applaud, a violent uproar and an engagement between the two parties had so terrified our heroine that she was glad to put herself under the protection of a young gentleman who safely conveyed her to her chair. As Lady Belliston had acquainted her that she should not be at home till late, Sophia, expecting to find no one in the room, came hastily in and went directly to a glass which almost fronted her, without once looking towards the upper end of the room where the statue of Jones now stood motionless. In the glass it was, after contemplating her own lovely face, that she first discovered the said statue, when, instantly turning about, she perceived the reality of the vision, upon which she gave a violent scream and scarce preserved herself from feigning till Jones was able to move to her and support her in his arms. To paint the looks or thoughts of either of these lovers is beyond my power. As their sensations from their mutual silence may be judged to have been too big for their own utterance, they cannot be supposed that I should be able to express them, and the misfortune is that few of my readers have been enough in love to feel by their own hearts what passed at this time in theirs. After a short pause Jones with faltering accent said, I see madam, you are surprised. Surprised, answered she, O heavens, indeed I am surprised. I almost doubt whether you are the person you seem. Indeed, crazy, my Sophia, pardon me madam, for this one's calling you so, I am that very wretched Jones, whom fortune, after so many disappointments, hath at last kindly conducted to you. O my Sophia, did you not know the thousand torments I have suffered in this long fruitless pursuit? Pursuit of whom? said Sophia, a little recollecting herself and assuming a reserved air. Can you be so cruel to us that question, Christ Jones? Need I say, of you? Of me? answered Sophia. Hath Mr. Jones then any such important business with me? To some, madam, Christ Jones, this might seem an important business, giving her the pocketbook. I help, madam, you will find it of the same value as when it was lost. Sophia took the pocketbook and was going to speak when he interrupted her thus. Let us not, I beseech you, lose one of those precious moments which fortune hath so kindly sent us. O my Sophia, I have business of a much superior kind, thus on my knees, let me ask your pardon. My pardon, cries she. Sure, sir, after what is past you cannot expect after what I have heard. I scarce know what I say, answer Jones. By heavens, I scarce wish you should pardon me. O my Sophia, henceforth never cast away a thought on such a wretch as I am. If any remembrance of me should ever intrude to give a moment's uneasiness to that tender bosom, think of my unworthiness, and let the remembrance of what past had upped and blot me forever from your mind. Sophia stood trembling all this while, her face was whiter than snow, and her heart was throbbing through her stays. But at the mention of Upton a blush arose in her cheeks, and her eyes, which before she had scarce lifted up, were turned upon Jones with a glance of disdain. He understood this silent reproach, and replied to it thus, O my Sophia, my only love, you cannot hate or despise me more for what happened there than I do myself, but do me the justice to think that my heart was never unfaithful to you. That had no share in the folly I was guilty of. It was even then unalterably yours. Though I despaird of possessing you, nay, almost of ever seeing you more, I doted still on your charming idea, and could seriously love no other woman. But if my heart had not been engaged she, into whose company I'd accidentally fell in that accursed place, was not an object of serious love. Believe me, my angel, I never have seen her from that day to this, and never intend her desire to see her again. Sophia, in her heart, was very glad to hear this, but forcing into her face an air of more coldness than she had yet assumed. Why, said she, Mr. Jones, do you take the trouble to make a defense where you are not accused? If I thought it worthwhile to accuse you, I have a charge of unpardonable nature indeed. What is it for heaven's sake, answered Jones, trembling in pale, expecting to hear of his amour with Lady Belliston? Oh, said she, how is it possible? Can everything noble and everything base be lodged together in the same bosom? Lady Belliston, in the ignominiest circumstance of having been kept, rose again in his mind and stopped his mouth from any reply. Could I have expected, proceeded Sophia, such treatment from you, nay, from any gentleman, from any man of honour, to have my name traduced in public, in ins, among the meanest vulgar, to have any little favors at my unguarded heart may have too lightly betrayed me to grant, boasted of there? Nay, even to hear that you had been forced to fly from my love? Nothing could equal Jones's surprise at these words of Sophia, but yet, not being guilty, he was much less embarrassed how to defend himself than if she had touched that tender string at which his conscience had been alarmed. By some examination he presently found that her supposing him guilty of so shocking an outrage against his love, and a reputation, was entirely owing to Partridge's talk at the ins before landlords and servants, for Sophia confessed to him it was from them that she received her intelligence. He had no very great difficulty to make her believe that he was entirely innocent of an offense so far into his character, but she had a great deal to hinder him from going instantly home and putting Partridge to death, which he more than once swore he would do. This point being cleared up, they soon found themselves so well pleased with each other that Jones quite forgot he had begun the conversation with conjuring her to give up all thoughts of him, and she was in a temper to have given ear to a petition of a very different nature. For before they were aware they had both gone so far that he let fall somewhere as that sounded like a proposal of marriage, to which she replied. That did not her duty to her father forbid her to follow her own inclinations, ruin with him would be more welcome to her than the most affluent fortune with another man. At the mention of the word ruin he started, let drop her hand which he had held for some time, and striking his breast with his own, cried out, Oh, Sophia! Can I then ruin thee? No, by heaven's no. I will never act so base apart. Dearest Sophia, whatever it costs me I will renounce you. I will give you up. I will tear all such hopes from my heart as are inconsistent with your real good. My love I will ever retain, but it shall be in silence. It shall be at a distance from you. It shall be in some foreign land, from whence no voice, no sigh of my despair shall ever reach and disturb your ears. And when I am dead, he would have gone on, but was stopped by a flood of tears with Sophia let fall in his bosom upon which he leaned without being able to speak one word. He kissed them off, which for some moment she allowed him to do without any resistance, but then recollecting herself gently withdrew out of his arms, and to turn the discourse from a subject too tender, and which he found she could not support. He thought herself to ask him a question she never had time to put to him before. How he came into that room. He began to stammer, and would in all probability have raised her suspicions by the answer he was going to give, when, at once, the door opened, and in came Lady Belliston. Having advanced a few steps, and seeing Jones and Sophia together, she suddenly stopped, when, after a pause of a few moments, recollecting herself with admirable presence of mind, she said, though with sufficient indications of surprise both in voice and countenance, I thought, Ms. Western, you had been at the play? Though Sophia had no opportunity of learning of Jones by what means he had discovered her, yet, as she had not the least suspicion of the real truth, or that Jones and Lady Belliston were acquainted, so she was very little confounded, and the less, as the lady had, in all their conversations on the subject, entirely taken her side against her father. With very little hesitation, therefore, she went through the whole story of what had happened at the playhouse and the cause of her hasty return. The length of this narrative gave Lady Belliston an opportunity of rallying her spirits and of considering in what manner to act, and as the behavior of Sophia gave her hopes that Jones had not betrayed her, she put on an air of good humor and said, I should not have broken so abruptly upon you, Ms. Western, if I had known you had company. Lady Belliston fixed her eyes on Sophia, while she spoke these words, to which that poor young lady having her face overspread with blushes and confusion answered in a stammering voice, I am sure, madam, I shall always think the honor of your lady's company. I hope, at least, cries Lady Belliston, I interrupt no business. No, madam, answered Sophia, our business was at an end. Your ladyship may be pleased to remember I have often mentioned the loss of my pocketbook, which this gentleman, having very luckily found, was so kind to return to me with the bill in it. Jones, ever since the arrival of Lady Belliston, had been ready to sink with fear. He sat kicking his heels, playing with his fingers, and looking more like a fool if it be possible, than a young booby squire when he is first introduced into polite assembly. He began, however, now to recover himself, and taking a hint from the behavior of Lady Belliston, who he saw did not intend to claim any acquaintance with him, he resolved his entirely to effect the stranger on his part. He said, ever since he had the pocketbook in his possession, he had used great diligence in inquiring out the lady whose name was written in it, but never till that day could be so fortunate to discover her. Sophia had indeed mentioned the loss of her pocketbook to Lady Belliston, but as Jones, for some reason or other, had never once hinted to her that it was in his possession, she believed not one syllable of what Sophia now said, and wonderfully admired the extreme quickness of the young lady in inventing such an excuse. The reason of Sophia's leaving the playhouse met with no better credit, and though she could not account for the meeting between these two lovers, she was firmly persuaded it was not accidental. With an affected smile, therefore, she said, Indeed, Miss Weston, you have had very good luck in recovering your money, not only as it fell into the hands of a gentleman of honor, but as he happened to discover to whom it belonged. I think you would not consent to have it advertised. It was great good fortune, sir, that you found out to whom the note belonged. Oh, madam, Christ Jones, it was enclosed in a pocketbook in which the young lady's name was written. That was very fortunate, indeed, Christ the Lady, and it was no less so that you heard Miss Weston was at my house, for she is very little known. Jones had at length perfectly recovered his spirits, and as he conceived, he had now an opportunity of satisfying Sophia as to the question she had asked him just before Lady Belliston came in. He proceeded this. Why, madam, answered he, it was by the luckiest chance imaginable I made this discovery. I was mentioning what I had found, and the name of the owner, the other night to a lady at the masquerade, who told me she believed she knew where I might see Miss Weston, and if I would come to her house the next morning she would inform me. I went, according to her appointment, but she was not at home, nor could I ever meet with her till this morning when she directed me to your ladyship's house. I came accordingly, and did myself the honor to ask for your ladyship, and upon my saying that I had very particular business a servant showed me into this room where I had not been long before the young lady returned from the play. Upon his mentioning the masquerade he looked very slyly at Lady Belliston without any fear of being remarked by Sophia, for she was visibly too much confounded to make any observations. This hint a little alarmed the lady, and she was silent, when Jones, who saw the agitation of Sophia's mind resolved to take the only method of relieving her, which was by retiring, but before he did this, he said, I believe, madam, it is customary to give some reward on these occasions. I must insist on a very high one, for my honesty. It is, madam, no less than the honor of being permitted to pay another visit here. Sir, replied the lady, I make no doubt that you are a gentleman, and my doors are never shut to people of fashion. Jones then, after proper ceremonials departed, highly to his own satisfaction, and no less to that of Sophia, who was terribly alarmed lest Lady Belliston should discover what she knew already, but too well. Upon the stairs Jones met his old acquaintance, Mrs. Honor, who, notwithstanding all she had said against him, was now so well bred to behave with great civility. This meeting proved, indeed, a lucky circumstance, as he communicated to her the house where he lodged, with which Sophia was unacquainted. End of Chapter 11 Tom Jones Book 13, Chapter 12, in which the thirteenth book is concluded. The elegant Lord Shaftesbury somewhere objects to telling too much truth, by which it may be fairly inferred that, in some cases, to lie is not only excusable, but commendable. And surely there are no persons who may so properly challenge a right to this commendable deviation from truth, as a young woman in the affair of love, for which they may plead precept education, and above all the sanction, nay, I may say the necessity of custom, by which they are restrained, not from submitting to the honest impulses of nature, for that would be a foolish prohibition, but from owning them. We are not, therefore, ashamed to say that our heroine now pursued the dictates of the above-mentioned right-honorable philosopher. As she was perfectly satisfied then that Lady Belliston was ignorant of the person of Jones, so she determined to keep her in that ignorance, though at the expense of a little fibbing. Jones had not been long gone before Lady Belliston cried, upon my word, a good pretty young fellow, I wonder who he is, for I don't remember ever to have seen his face before. Nor I neither, madam, price Sophia, I must say he behaved very handsomely in relation to my note. Yes, and he is a very handsome fellow, said the lady. Don't you think so? I did not take much notice of him, answered Sophia, but I thought he seemed rather awkward and ungentile than otherwise. You are extremely right, cries Lady Belliston. You may see by his manner that he hath not kept good company. Nay, notwithstanding his returning your note and refusing the reward, I almost question whether he is a gentleman. I have always observed there is a something in persons well-born which others can never acquire. I think I will give orders not to be at home to him. Nay, sure, madam, answered Sophia, one can't suspect after what he hath done. Besides, if your ladyship observed him, there was an elegance in his discourse, a delicacy, a prettiness of expression that I confess, said Lady Belliston, the fellow hath words, and indeed, Sophia, you must forgive me, indeed you must. I forgive your ladyship, said Sophia. Yes, indeed you must, answered she, laughing, for at a horrible suspicion when I first came into the room, I value must forgive it, but I suspected it was Mr. Jones himself. Did your ladyship indeed, cried Sophia, blushing and effecting a laugh? Yes, I vow I did, answered she. I can't imagine what put it into my head. Forgive the fellow his too, he was gentilly dressed, which I think, dear Sophie, is not commonly the case with your friend. This railery, cried Sophia, is a little cruel, Lady Belliston, after my promise to your ladyship. Not at all, child, said the lady, it would have been cruel before, but after you have promised me never to marry without your father's consent, in which you know, as implied, you're giving up Jones, sure you can bear a little railery on a passion which was pardonable enough in a young girl in the country, and of which you will tell me you have so entirely got the better. What must I think, my dear Sophie, if you cannot bear a little ridicule even on his dress? I shall begin to fear you or very far gone indeed, and almost question whether you have dealt ingenuously with me. Indeed, madam, cried Sophia, your ladyship mistakes me, if you imagine I had any concern on his account. On his account, answered the lady, you must have mistaken me. I went no farther than his dress, for I would not injure your taste by any other comparison. I don't imagine, my dear Sophie, if your Mr. Jones had been such a fellow as this. I thought, says Sophia, your ladyship had allowed him to be handsome. Whom, pray, cried the lady hastily, Mr. Jones, answered Sophia, and immediately recollecting herself, Mr. Jones, no, no, I ask her pardon, I mean the gentleman who is just now here. Oh, Sophie, Sophie, cries the lady, this Mr. Jones, I am afraid, still runs in your head. Then, upon my honor, madam, said Sophia, Mr. Jones, is as entirely indifferent to me as the gentleman who just now left us. Upon my honor, said Lady Belaston, I believe it. Forgive me, therefore, a little innocent railery, but I promise you, I will never mention his name any more. And now the two ladies separated, infinitely more to the delight of Sophia than of Lady Belaston, who would willingly have tormented her rival a little longer, had not business of more importance called her away. As for Sophia, her mind was perfectly easy under this first practice of deceit, upon which, when she retired to her chamber, she reflected with the highest uneasiness and conscious shame, nor could the precuse your hardship of her situation, and the necessity of the case at all reconciler mind or conduct, for the frame of her mind was too delicate to bear the thought of having been guilty of a falsehood, however qualified by circumstances. Nor did this thought once suffer her to close her eyes during the whole succeeding night. End of Part 13. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Charlene V. Smith. Tom Jones by Henry Fielding. Book 14. Containing Two Days. Chapter 1. An essay to prove that an author will write the better for having some knowledge of the subject on which he writes. As several gentlemen in these times, by the wonderful force of genius only, without the least assistance of learning, perhaps, without being well able to read, have made a considerable figure in the Republic of Letters. The modern critics, I am told, have lately begun to assert that all kind of learning is entirely useless to a writer, and indeed no other than a kind of fetters on the natural sprightliness and activity of the imagination, which is thus way down, and prevented from soaring to those high flights which otherwise it would be able to reach. This doctrine, I am afraid, is at present carried much too far. For why should writing differ so much from all other arts? The nimbleness of a dancing master is not at all prejudiced by being taught to move, nor doth any mechanic, I believe, exercise his tools the worse by having learnt to use them. For my own part, I cannot conceive that Homer or Virgil would have writ with more fire if instead of being masters of all the learning of their times they had been as ignorant as most of the authors of the present age. Nor do I believe that all the imagination, fire, and judgment of pit could have produced those orations that have made the Senate of England in these artimes a rival in eloquence to Greece and Rome. If he had not been so well read in the writings of Demosthenes and Cicero as to have transferred their whole spirit into his speeches and with their spirit their knowledge too. I would not here be understood to insist on the same fund of learning in any of my brethren as Cicero persuades us as necessary to the composition of an orator. On the contrary, very little reading is I conceive necessary to the poet less to the critic and the least of all to the politician. For the first perhaps bish's art of poetry and a few of our modern poets may suffice for the second a moderate heap of plays and for the last an indifferent collection of political journals. To say the truth I require no more than that a man should have some little knowledge of the subject on which he treats according to the old maxim of law quam quisque norit artum in eise exkerchiat. With this alone a writer may sometimes do tolerably well and indeed without this all the other learning in the world will stand him in little stead. For instance let us suppose that Homer and Virgil Aristotle and Cicero Thucydides and Livy could have met altogether and have clubbed their several talents to have composed a treatise on the art of dancing. I believe it will be readily agreed that they could not have equaled the excellent treatise which Mr. Essex hath given us on that subject entitled the rudiments of genteel education. And indeed should the excellent Mr. Broughton be prevailed on to set fists to paper and to complete the above said rudiments by delivering down the true principle of athletics I question whether the world will have any cause to lament that none of the great writers either ancient or modern have ever treated about that noble and useful art. To avoid a multiplicity of examples in so plain a case and to come at once to my point I am apt to conceive that one reason why so many English writers have totally failed in describing the manners of the upper life may possibly be that in reality they know nothing of it. This is the knowledge unhappily not in the power of many authors to arrive at. Books will give us a very imperfect idea of it nor will the stage a much better. The fine gentleman formed upon reading the former will almost always turn out a pedant and he who forms himself upon the latter a coxcomb. Nor are the characters drawn from these models better supported. Van Bru and Congreve copied nature but they who copy them draw is unlike the present age as Hogarth would do if he was to paint a route or a drum in the dresses of Titian and of Van Dyke. In short imitation here will not do the business. The picture must be after nature herself. A true knowledge of the world is gained only by conversation and the manners of every rank must be seen in order to be known. Now it happens that this higher order of mortals is not to be seen like all the rest of the human species for nothing in the streets, shops and coffee houses. Nor are they shown like the upper rank of animals for so much apiece. In short this is a site to which no persons are admitted without one or other of these qualifications these either birth or fortune or what is equivalent to both the honourable profession of a gamester. And very unlucky for the world persons so qualified very seldom care to take upon themselves the bad trade of writing which is generally entered upon by the lower and poor of sorts as it is a trade which many think requires no kind of stock to set up with. Hence those strange monsters in lace and embroidery in silks and brocades with vast wigs and hoops which under the name of lords and ladies strut the stage to the great delight of attorneys and their clerks in the pit and of the citizens and their apprentices in the galleries and which are no more to be found in real life than the centaur the chimera or any other creature of mere fiction but to let my reader into a secret this knowledge above her life though very necessary for preventing mistakes there's no very great resource to a writer whose province is comedy or that kind of novels which like this I am writing is of the comic class what Mr. Pope says of women is very applicable to most in this station who are indeed so entirely made up of form and affectation that they have no character at all at least none which appears I will venture to say that the highest life is much the dullest and affords very little humor or entertainment the various callings in lower spheres produce the great variety of humorous characters whereas here except among the few who are engaged in the pursuit of ambition and the few who are still whoever relish for pleasure all this vanity and servile imitation dressing in cards eating and drinking bowing and curtsying make up the business of their lives some there are however of this rank upon whom passion exercises its tyranny and hurries them far beyond the bounds which decorum prescribes of these the ladies are as much distinguished by their noble intrepidity and a certain superior contempt of reputation from the frail ones of meaner degree as a virtuous woman of quality is by the elegance and delicacy of her sentiments from the honest wife of a yo-man and shopkeeper Lady Belliston was of this intrepid character but let not my country readers conclude from her that this is the general conduct of women of fashion or that we mean to represent them as such they might as well suppose that every clergyman was represented by thwackum or every soldier by ensign northerton there is not indeed a greater error than that which universally prevails among the vulgar who borrowing their opinion from some ignorant satirists have affixed the character of ludeness to these times on the contrary I am convinced there never was less of love intrigue carried on among persons of condition than now our present woman have been taught by their mothers to fix their thoughts only on ambition and vanity and to despise the pleasures of love as unworthy their regard and being afterwards by the care of such mothers married without having husbands they seem pretty well confirmed in the justness of those sentiments once they content themselves for the dull remainder of life with the pursuit of more innocent but I am afraid more childish amusements the bare mention of which would ill suit with the dignity of this history in my humble opinion the true characteristic of the present Beaumond is rather folly than vice and the only epithet which it deserves is that of frivolous chapter two containing letters and other matters which attend amours Jones had not been long at home before he received the following letter I was never more surprised than when I found you was gone when you left the room I little imagine you attended to have left the house without seeing me again your behaviour is all of a peace and convinces me how much I ought to despise a heart which can dope upon an idiot though I know not whether I should not admire her cunning more than her simplicity wonderful both for though she understood not a word of what passed between us yet she had the skill the assurance the what shall I call it to deny to my face that she knows you or ever saw you before was this a scheme laid between you and have you been base enough to betray me oh how I despise her you and all the world but chiefly myself for I dare not write what I should afterwards run mad to read but remember I can detest as violently as I have loved Jones had but little time given him to reflect on this letter before a second was brought him from the same hand and this likewise we shall set down in the precise words when you consider the hurry of spirits in which I must have written you cannot be surprised at any expressions in my former note yet perhaps on reflection they were rather too warm at least I would if possible think all owing to the odious playhouse and to the pertinence of a fool which detain me beyond my appointment how easy it is to think well of those we love perhaps you desire I should think so I've resolved to see you tonight so come to me immediately P.S. I have ordered to be at home to none but yourself P.S. Mr. Jones will imagine I shall assist him in his defense for I believe he cannot desire to impose on me more than I desire to impose on myself P.S. come immediately to the men of intrigue I refer the determination whether the angry or the tender letter gave the greatest uneasiness to Jones certain it is he had no violent inclination to pay any more visits that evening unless to one single person however he thought his honor engaged and had not this been motive sufficient he would not have ventured to blow the temper Lady Belliston into that flame of which he had reason to think it's susceptible and of which he feared the consequence might be a discovery to Sophia which he dreaded after some discontented walks therefore about the room he was preparing to depart when the lady kindly prevented him not by another letter but by her own presence she entered the room very disordered in her dress and very discomposed in her looks and threw herself into a chair were having recovered her breath she said you see sir when women have gone one length too far they will stop at none if any person would have sworn this to me a week ago I would not have believed it of myself I hope madam said Jones my charming Lady Belliston will be as difficult to believe anything against one who is so sensible of the many obligations she hath conferred upon him indeed says she sensible of obligations did I expect to hear such cold language from Mr. Jones pardon me my dear angel said he if after the letters I have received the terrors of your anger though I know not how I have deserved it and have I then says she with a smile so angry a countenance have I really brought a chiding face with me if there be honor in man said he I have done nothing to merit your anger you remember the appointment you sent me I went in pursuance I beseech you cried she do not run through the odious recital answer me but one question and I shall be easy have you not betrayed my honor to her Jones fell upon his knees and began to utter the most violent protestations when partridge came dancing and capering into the room like one drunk with joy crying out she's found she's found here sir here she's here Mrs. Honor is upon the stairs stop her a moment cries Jones here madam step behind the bed I have no other room nor closet nor place on earth to hide you in sure never was so damned an accident damned indeed said the lady as she went to her place of concealment and presently afterwards in came Mrs. Honor hey day says she Mr. Jones what's the matter that impudent rascal your servant would scarce let me come upstairs I hope he had not the same reason to keep me from you as he had it up then I suppose you hardly expected to see me but you have certainly bewitched my lady poor dear young lady to be sure I loves her as tenderly as if she was my own sister Lord have mercy upon you if you don't make her a good husband and to be sure if you do not nothing can be bad enough for you Jones begged her only to whisper for that there was a lady dying in the next room a lady cries she I suppose one of your ladies oh Mr. Jones there are too many of them in the world I believe we are gotten to the house of one for my lady belliston I dares to say is no better than she should be hush hush cries Jones every word is overheard in the next room I don't care a far then cries honor I speaks no scandal anyone but to be sure the servants make no scruple of saying is how her ladyship meets men at another place where the house goes under the name of a poor gentlewoman but her ladyship pays the rent and many is the good thing besides they say she half of her hear Jones after expressing the utmost uneasiness offer to stop her mouth hey day why sure Mr. Jones you will let me speak I speaks no scandal for I only says what I heard from others and thinks I to myself much good may it do the gentlewoman with her riches if she comes by in such a wicked manner to be sure it is better to be poor and honest the servants are villains cries Jones and abuse their lady unjustly I to be sure servants are always villains and so my lady says and won't hear a word of it no I am convinced says Jones my Sophia is above listening to such base scandal nay I believe it is no scandal neither cries honor for why should she meet men at another house it can never be for any good for if she had a lawful design of being courted as to be sure any lady may lawfully give her company to men upon that account why where can be the sense I protest cries Jones I can't hear all this of a lady of such honor and relation of Sophia besides you will distract the poor lady in the next room let me entreat you to walk with me downstairs nay sir if you won't let me speak I have done here sir is a letter from my young lady what would some men give to have this but Mr. Jones I think you are not over and above generous and yet I have heard some servants say but I am sure you will do me the justice to own I never saw the color of your money here Jones hastily took the letter and presently after slipped five pieces into her hand he then returned a thousand thanks to his dear Sophia in a whisper and begged her to leave him to read her letter she presently departed not without expressing much grateful sense of his generosity Lady Belliston now came from behind the curtain how shall I describe her rage her tongue was at first incapable of utterance but streams of fire darted from her eyes and well indeed they might for her heart was all in a flame and now as soon as her voice found way instead of expressing any indignation against honor or her own servants she began to attack poor Jones you see said she what I have sacrificed to you my reputation my honor gone forever and what return have I found neglected slighted for a country girl for an idiot what a neglect madam or what slight cried Jones have I been guilty of Mr. Jones says she it is in vain to dissemble if you will make me easy you must entirely give her up and as proof of your intention show me the letter what letter madam said Jones nay surely said she you cannot have the confidence to deny your having received a letter by the hands of that trollop and can your ladyship cry see ask of me what I must part with my honor before I grant have I acted in such a manner by your ladyship could I be guilty of betraying this poor innocent girl to you what security could you have that I should not act the same part by yourself a moment's reflection will I am sure convince you that a man with whom the secrets of a lady are not safe must be the most contemptible of wretches very well said she I need not insist on your becoming this contemptible wretch in your own opinion for the inside of the letter could inform me of nothing more than I know already I see the footing you are upon here ensued a long conversation which the reader who is not too curious will thank me for not inserting at length it shall suffice therefore to inform him that lady belliston grew more and more pacified and at length believed or affected to believe his protestations that his meeting with Sophia that evening was merely accidental and every other matter which the reader already knows and which as jones said before her in the strongest light it is plain that she had in reality no reason to be angry with him she was not however in her heart perfectly satisfied with his refusal to show her the letter so deaf are we to the clearest reason when it argues against our prevailing passions she was indeed well convinced that Sophia possessed the first place in jones's affections and yet haughty and amorous as this lady was she submitted at last to bear the second place or to express it more properly in a legal phrase was contented with the possession of that of which another woman had the reversion it was at length agreed that jones should for the future visit at the house for that Sophia her maid and all the servants would place these visits to the account of Sophia and that she herself would be considered as the person imposed upon this scheme was contrived by the lady and highly relished by jones who was indeed glad to have a prospect of seeing his Sophia at any rate and the lady herself was not a little pleased with the imposition on Sophia which jones she thought could not possibly discover to her for his own sake the next day was appointed for the first visit and then after proper ceremonials the lady belliston returned home chapter three containing various matters jones was no sooner alone than he eagerly broke open his letter and read as follows sir it is impossible to express what i have suffered since you left this house and as i have reason to think you intend coming here again i have sent honor though so late at night as she tells me she knows your lodgings to prevent you i charge you by all the regard you have for me not to think of visiting here for it will certainly be discovered nay i almost doubt from some things which have dropped from her ladieship that she is not already without some suspicion something favorable perhaps may happen we must wait with patience but i once more entreat you if you have any concern for my ease do not think of returning hither this letter administered the same kind of consolation to poor jones which Job formally received from his friends besides disappointing all the hopes which he had promised to himself from seeing Sophia he was reduced to an unhappy dilemma with regard to lady belliston for there are some certain engagements which as he well knew do very difficultly admit of any excuse for the failure and to go after the strict prohibition from Sophia he was not to be forced by any human power at length after much deliberation which during the night supplied the place of sleep he determined to feign himself sick for this suggested itself as the only means of failing the appointed visit without incensing lady belliston which he had more than one reason of desiring to avoid the first thing however which he did in the morning was to write an answer to Sophia which he enclosed in one to honor he then dispatched another to lady belliston containing the above mentioned excuse and to this he soon received the following answer i am vexed that i cannot see you here this afternoon but more concerned for the occasion take great care of yourself and have the best advice and i hope there will be no danger i am so tormented all this morning with fools that i have scarce a moment's time to write to you adieu p s i will endeavor to call on you this evening at nine be sure to be alone mr jones now received a visit from mrs miller who after some formal introduction began the following speech i am very sorry sir to wait upon you on such an occasion but i hope you will consider the ill consequence which it must be to the reputation of my poor girls if my house should once be talked of as a house of ill fame i hope you won't think me therefore guilty of impertinence if i beg you not to bring any more ladies in at that time of night the clock had struck two before one of them went away i do assure you madame said jones the lady who was here last night and who stayed the latest for the other only brought me a letter is a woman of very great fashion and my near relation i don't know what fashion she is of answered mrs miller but i am sure no woman of virtue unless a very near relation indeed would visit a young gentleman at ten at night and stay four hours in his room with him alone besides sir the behavior of her chairman shows what she was for they did nothing but make jests all evening in the entry and asked mr partridge in the hearing of my own maid if madame intended to stay with his master all night with a great deal of stuff not proper to be repeated i have really a great respect for you mr jones upon your own account nay i have a very high obligation to you for your generosity to my cousin indeed i did not know how very good you had been till lately little did i imagine to what dreadful courses the poor man's distress had driven him little did i think when you gave me the ten genies that you had given them to a highway man oh heavens what goodness have you shown how have you preserved this family the character which mr allworthy hath formally given me of you was i find strictly true and indeed if i had no obligation to you my obligations to him are such that on his account i should show you the utmost respect in my power nay believe me dear mr jones if my daughters and my own reputation were out of the case i should for your own sake be sorry that so pretty a young gentleman should converse with these women but if you are resolved to do it i must beg you to take another lodging for i do not myself like to have such things carried on under my roof but more especially upon the account of my girls who have little heaven knows besides their characters to recommend them jones started and changed color at the name of all worthy indeed mrs miller answered he a little warmly i do not take this at all kind i will never bring any slander on your house but i must insist on seeing what company i please in my own room and if that gives you any offense i shall as soon as i am able look for another lodging i am sorry we must part then sir said she but i am convinced mr allworthy himself would never come within my doors if he had the least suspicion of my keeping an ill house very well madame said jones i hope sir said she you are not angry for i would not for the world offend any of mr allworthy's family i have not slept a wink all night about this matter i am sorry i have disturbed your rest madame said jones but i beg you will send partridge up to me immediately which she promised to do and then with a very low curtsy retired as soon as partridge arrived jones fell upon him in the most outrageous manner how often said he am i to suffer for your folly or rather for my own in keeping you is that tongue of yours resolved upon my destruction what have i done sir answered a frighted partridge who was it gave you authority to mention the story of the robbery or that the man you saw here was the person i sir cries partridge now don't be guilty of a falsehood in denying it said jones if i did mention such a matter answered partridge i am sure i thought no harm for i should not have opened my lips if it had not been to his own friends and relations who i imagined would have let it go no farther but i have a much heavier charge against you cries jones than this how durst you after all the precautions i gave you mentioned the name of mr allworthy in this house partridge denied that he ever had with many oaths how else said jones should mrs miller be acquainted that there was any connection between him and me and it is but this moment she told me she respected me on his account oh lord sir said partridge i desire only to be heard out and to be sure never was anything so unfortunate hear me but out and you will own how wrongfully you have accused me when mrs honor came downstairs last night she met me in the entry and asked me when my master had heard from mr allworthy and to be sure mrs miller heard the very words and the moment madame honor was gone she called me into the parlor to her mr partridge says she what mr allworthy is it that the gentle woman mentioned is it the great mr allworthy of summer set sure upon my word madame says i i know nothing of the matter sure says she your master is not the mr jones i have heard mr allworthy talk of upon my word madame says i i know nothing of the matter then says she turning to her daughter nancy says she as sure as 10 pence this is the very young gentleman and he agrees exactly with the squire's description the lord above knows who it was told her for i am the errantest villain that ever walked upon two legs if ever it came out of my mouth i promise you sir i can keep a secret when i am desired nay sir so far with i from telling her anything about mr allworthy that i told her the very direct contrary for though i did not contradict it at that moment yet as second thoughts they say our best so when i came to consider that somebody must have informed her thinks i to myself i will put an end to the story and so i went back again into the parlor sometime afterwards and says i upon my word says i whoever says i told you that this gentleman was mr jones that is says i that this mr jones was that mr jones told you a compounded lie and i beg says i you will never mention any such matter says i for my master says i will think i must have told you so and i defy anybody in the house ever to say i mentioned any such word to be certain sir it is a wonderful thing and i have been thinking with myself ever since how it was she came to know it not but i saw an old woman here to other day a begging at the door who looked is like her we saw in warwick sure that caused all that mischief to us to be sure it is never good to pass by an old woman without giving her something especially if she looks at you for all the world shall never persuade me but that they have a great power to do mischief and to be sure i shall never see an old woman again but i shall think to myself in fandom regina you base renovale de laura the simplicity of partridge set jones a laughing and put a final end to his anger which had indeed seldom any long duration in his mind and instead of commenting on his defense he told him he intended presently to leave those lodgings and ordered him to go and endeavor to get him others end of section 49 recording by charlene v smith section 50 of tom jones this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libra vox dot org recording by charlene v smith tom jones by henry fielding book 14 chapter 4 which we hope will be very attentively perused by young people of both sexes partridge had no sooner left mr. jones than mr. nightingale with whom he had now contracted a great intimacy came to him and after a short salutations said so tom i hear you had company very late last night upon my soul you are a happy fellow who have not been in town above a fortnight and can keep chairs waiting at your door till two in the morning he then ran on with much commonplace railery of the same kind till jones at last interrupted him saying i suppose you have received all this information from mrs. miller who had been up here a little while ago to give me warning the good woman is afraid it seems of the reputation of her daughters oh she is wonderfully nice says nightingale upon that account if you remember she would not let nancy goad with us to the masquerade nay upon my honor i think she's in the right of it says jones however i have taken her at her word and have sent partridge to look for another lodging if you will says nightingale we may i believe be again together for to tell you a secret which i desire you won't mention in the family i intend to quit the house today what had mrs. miller given you warning to my friend christ jones no answered the other but the rooms are not convenient enough besides i'm going weary of this part of the town i want to be nearer the places of diversion so i'm going to paul maul and did you intend to make a secret if you're going away said jones i promise you answered nightingale i don't intend to bulk my lodgings but i have a private reason for not taking a formal leave not so private answered jones i promise you i have seen it ever since the second day of my coming to the house here will be some wet eyes on your departure poor nancy i pity her faith indeed jack you have played the fool with that girl you have given her a longing which i am afraid nothing will ever cure her of nightingale answered what the devil would you have me do would you have me marry her to cure her no answered jones i would not have had you make love to her as you have often done in my presence i have been astonished at the blindness of her mother in never seeing it pa see it cries nightingale what the devil should she see why see said jones that you have made her daughter distractedly in love with you the poor girl cannot conceal it a moment her eyes are never off from you and she always colors every time you come into the room indeed i pity her heartily for she seems to be one of the best natured and honestest of human creatures and so answered nightingale according to your doctrine one must not amuse oneself by any common gallantries with women for fear they should fall in love with us indeed jack said jones you willfully misunderstand me i do not fancy women are so apt to fall in love but you have gone far beyond common gallantries what do you suppose says nightingale that we have been a bed together no upon my honor answered jones very seriously i do not suppose so ill of you nay i will go farther i do not imagine you have laid a regular premeditated scheme for the destruction of the quiet of a poor little creature or have even foreseen the consequence for i'm sure thou art a very good natured fellow and such a one can never be guilty of a cruelty of that kind but at the same time you have pleased your own vanity without considering that this poor girl was made a sacrifice to it and while you have had no design but of amusing an idle hour you have actually given her reason to flatter herself that you had the most serious designs in her favor pretty jack answer me honestly to watch have tended all those elegant and luscious descriptions of happiness arising from violent and mutual fondness all those warm professions of tenderness and generous disinterested love did you imagine she would not apply them or speak ingenuously did you not intend that she should upon my soul tom cries nightingale i do not think this was in me thou wilt make an admirable person so i suppose you would not go to bed to nancy now if she would let you know christ jones may i be damned if i would tom tom answered nightingale last night remember last night whenever the eye was closed and the pale moon and silent stars shone conscious of the theft looky mr nightingale said jones i am no canting hypocrite nor do i pretend to the gift of chastity more than my neighbors i've been guilty with women i own it but i'm not conscious that i have ever injured any nor would i to procure pleasure to myself be knowingly the cause of misery to any human being well well said nightingale i believe you and i am convinced you acquit me of any such thing i do from my heart answered jones of having debauched the girl but not from having gained her affections if i have said nightingale i am sorry for it but time and absence will soon wear off such impressions it is a receipt i must take myself for to confess the truth to you i never liked any girl half so much in my whole life but i must let you into the whole secret tom my father have provided a match for me with a woman i never saw and she is now coming to town in order for me to make my addresses to her at these words jones burst into a loud fit of laughter when nightingale cried nay prithee don't turn me into ridicule the devil take me if i'm not half mad about this matter my poor nancy oh jones jones i wish i had a fortune in my own possession i heartily wish you had cries jones for if this be the case i sincerely pity you both but surely you don't intend to go away without taking your leave of her i would not answer nightingale undergo the pain of taking leave for ten thousand pounds besides i am convinced instead of answering any good purpose it would only serve to inflame my poor nancy the more i beg you therefore you would not mention a word of it today and in the evening or tomorrow morning i intend to depart jones promised he would not and said upon reflection he thought as he had determined and was obliged to leave her he took the most prudent method he then told nightingale he should be very glad to lodge in the same house with him and it was accordingly agreed between them that nightingale should procure him either the ground floor or the two pair of stairs for the young gentleman himself was to occupy that which was between them this nightingale of whom we shall be presently obliged to say a little more was in the ordinary transactions of life a man of strict honor and what is more rare among young gentlemen of the town one of strict honesty to yet in affairs of love he was somewhat loose in his morals not that he was even here as void of principle as gentlemen sometimes are and often are a fact to be but it is certain he had been guilty of some indefensible treachery to women and had in a certain mystery called making love practiced many deceits which if he had used in trade he would have been counted the greatest villain upon earth but as the world i know not well for what reason agreed to see this treachery in a better light he was so far from being ashamed of his iniquities of this kind that he gloried in them and would often boast of his skill in gaining of women and his triumphs over their hearts for which he had before this time received some rebukes from jones who always expressed great bitterness against any misbehavior to the fair part of the species who if considered he said as they ought to be in the light of the dearest friends were to be cultivated honored and caressed with the utmost love and tenderness but if regarded as enemies were a conquest of which a man ought rather to be ashamed than to value himself upon it chapter five a short account of the history of mrs miller jones this day ate 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 learned either by means of partridge or by some other means natural or supernatural that he had a connection 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 surprising 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 to never know anything of the matter alas sir you little imagine what a friend that best of gentlemen had 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 to 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 gentle woman 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 the smallpox 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 grandmother and having inherited a vast fortune from her father which he had got by pawnbroken 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 indirision a gentle woman that i believe she at length broke the heart of the poor girl in short she likewise died within a twelve month 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 it 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 oh my poor girls you never knew the blessing which he lost i am ashamed mr jones of this womanish weakness but i shall never mention him without tears i ought to 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 penniless than ever when that great that good that glorious man mr alworthy who had some little acquaintance with my husband accidentally heard of my distress and immediately written this letter to me here sir here it is i put it into my pocket to show it to you this is the letter sir i must and will read it to you madam i heartily condol with you on your late grievous loss which your own good sense and the excellent lessons you must have learned 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 gennies which i beg you will accept till i have the pleasure of seeing you and believe me to be madame etc 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 fifty pounds 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 further 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 honor 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 a shame sir of what you are i promise you no good person will esteem you the less on that account no mr jones the words dishonorable birth are nonsense as my dear dear husband used to say unless the word dishonorable be applied to the parents for the children can derive no real dishonor from an act of which they are entirely 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 expressed much pity and concern for him she was beginning to comment on the story but jones interrupted her for as the hour of asignation 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 entirely 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 belliston 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 behavior 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 chapter six containing a scene which we doubt not will affect all our readers mr jones closed not his eyes during all the former part of the night not owing to any uneasiness which he conceived at being disappointed by lady belliston nor was sofia herself though most of his waking hours were justly to be charged to her account the present cause of dispelling his slumbers in fact poor jones was one of the best-natured fellows alive and had all that weakness which is called compassion and which distinguishes this imperfect character from that noble firmness of mind which rolls a man as it were within himself and like a polished wool enables him to run through the world without being once stopped by the calamities which happen to others he could not help therefore compassionating the situation of poor nancy whose love for mr nightingale seemed to him so apparent that he was astonished at the blindness of her mother who had more than once the preceding evening remarked to him the great change in the temper of her daughter who from being she said one of the liveliest marries girls in the world was on a sudden become all gloom and melancholy sleep however at length got the better of all resistance and now as if he had already been a deity as the anteants imagined and an offended one too he seemed to enjoy his dear bot conquest to speak simply and without any metaphor mr jones slept till eleven the next morning and would perhaps have continued in the same quiet situation much longer had not a violent uproar awakened him partridge was now summoned who being asked what was the matter answered that there was a dreadful hurricane below stairs that miss nancy was in fits and that the other sister and the mother were both crying and lamenting over her jones expressed much concern at this news which partridge endeavored to relieve by saying with a smile he fancied the young lady was in no danger of death for that susan which was the name of the maid had given him to understand it was nothing more than a common affair in short said he miss nancy heth had a mind to be as wise as her mother that's all she was a little hungry it seems and so sat down to dinner before grace was said and so there is a child coming for the foundling hospital prithee leave thy stupid jesting cries jones is the misery of these poor wretches a subject of mirth go immediately to mrs miller and tell her i beg leave stay you will make some blunder i will go myself for she desired me to breakfast with her he then rose and dressed himself as fast as he could and while he was dressing partridge notwithstanding many severe rebukes could not avoid throwing forth certain pieces of brutality commonly called jests on this occasion jones was no sooner dressed than he walked downstairs and knocking at the door was presently admitted by the maid into the outward parlor which was as empty of company as it was of any apparatus for eating mrs miller was in the inner room with her daughter whence the maid presently brought a message to mr jones that her mistress hoped he would excuse the disappointment but an accident had happened which made it impossible for her to have the pleasure of his company at breakfast that day and begged his pardon for not sending him up notice sooner jones desired she would give herself no trouble about anything so trifling as his disappointment that he was heartily sorry for the occasion and that if he could be of any service to her she might command him he had scarce spoke these words when mrs miller who heard them all suddenly threw open the door and coming out to him in a flood of tears said oh mr jones you are certainly one of the best young men alive i give you a thousand thanks for your kind offer of your service but alas sir it is out of your power to preserve my poor girl oh my child my child she is undone she is ruined forever i hope madam said jones no villain oh mr jones said she that villain who yesterday left my lodgings have betrayed my poor girl have destroyed her i know you are a man of honor you have a good a noble heart mr jones the actions to which i have been myself a witness could proceed from no other i will tell you all nay indeed it is impossible after what have happened to keep it a secret that nightingale that barbers villain had undone my daughter she's she's oh mr jones my girl is with child by him and in that condition he had deserted her here's here's sir is his cruel letter read it mr jones and tell me if such another monster lives the letter was as follows dear nancy as i found it impossible to mention to you what i am afraid will be no less shocking to you than it is to me i have taken this method to inform you that my father insists upon my immediately paying my addresses to a young lady of fortune whom he had provided for my i need not to write the detested word your own good understanding will make you sensible how entirely i am obliged to an obedience by which i shall be forever excluded from your dear arms the fondness of your mother may encourage you to trust her with the unhappy consequence of our love which may be easily kept secret from the world and for which i will take care to provide as i will for you i wish you may feel less on this account than i have suffered but summon all your fortitude to your assistance and forgive and forget the man whom nothing but the prospect of certain ruin could have forced to write this letter i bid you forget me i mean only as a lover but the best of friends you shall ever find in your faithful though unhappy j. n when jones had read this letter they both stood silent during a minute looking at each other and at last he began thus i cannot express madam how much i am shocked at what i have read yet let me beg you in one particular to take the rider's advice consider the reputation of your daughter it is gone it is lost mr. jones cried she as well as her innocence she received the letter in a room full of company and immediately swooning away upon opening it the contents were known to everyone present but the loss of her reputation bad as it is is not the worst i shall lose my child she have attempted twice to destroy herself already and though she had been hitherto prevented thou she will not outlive it nor could i myself outlive any accident of that nature what then will become of my little betsey a helpless infant orphan and the poor little wretch will i believe break her heart at the miseries with which she sees her sister and myself distracted while she's ignorant of the cause oh tis the most sensible and best-natured little thing the barber's crew had destroyed us all oh my poor children is this the reward of all my cares is this the fruit of all my prospects have i so cheerfully undergone all the labours and duties of a mother have i been so tender of their infancy so careful of their education have i been toiling so many years denying myself even the conveniences of life to provide some little sustenance for them to lose one or both in such a matter indeed madam said jones with tears in his eyes i pity you from my soul oh mr jones answered she even you though i know the goodness of your heart can have no idea of what i feel the best the kindest the most dutiful of children oh my poor nancy the darling of my soul the delight of my eyes the pride of my heart too much indeed my pride for to those foolish ambitious hopes arising from her beauty i owe her ruin alas i saw with pleasure the liking which this young man had for her i thought it an honorable affection and flattered my foolish vanity with the thoughts of seeking her married to one so much her superior and a thousand times in my presence nay often in yours he hath endeavored to soothe and encourage these hopes by the most generous expressions of disinterested love which he hath always directed to my poor girl and which i as well as she believed to be real could i have believed that these were only snares laid to betray the innocence of my child and for the ruin of us all at these words little betsy came running into the room crying dear mama for heaven's sakes come to my sister for she is in another fit and my cousin can't hold her mrs miller immediately obeyed the summons but first ordered betsy to stay with mr jones and begged him to entertain her a few minutes saying in the most pathetic voice good heaven let me preserve one of my children at least jones in compliance with this request did all he could to comfort the little girl though he was in reality himself very highly affected with mrs miller's story he told her her sister would be soon very well again that by taking on in that manner she would not only make her sister worse but make her mother ill too indeed sir says she i would not do anything to hurt them for the world i would burst my heart rather than that they should see me cry but my poor sister can't see me cry i am afraid she will never be able to see me cry anymore indeed i can't part with her indeed i can't and then poor mama too what will become of her she says she will die too and leave me but i am resolved i won't be left behind and are you not afraid to die my little betsy said jones yes answered she i was always afraid to die because i must have left my mama and my sister but i am not afraid of going anywhere with those i love jones was so pleased with this answer that he eagerly kissed the child and soon after mrs miller returned saying she thanked heaven nancy was now come to herself and now betsy says she you may go in for your sister is better and longs to see you she then turned to jones and began to renew her apologies for having disappointed him of his breakfast i hope madame said jones i shall have a more exquisite or past than any you could have provided for me this i assure you will be the case if i can do any service to this little family of love but whatever success may attend my endeavors i am resolved to attempt it i am very much deceived in mr nightingale if notwithstanding what has happened he have not much goodness of heart at the bottom as well as a very violent affection for your daughter if this be the case i think the picture which i shall lay before him will affect him endeavor madame to comfort yourself and miss nancy as well as you can i will go instantly in quest of mr nightingale and i hope to bring you good news mrs miller fell upon her knees and invoked all the blessings of heaven upon mr jones to which she afterwards added the most passionate expressions of gratitude he then departed to find mr nightingale and the good woman returned to comfort her daughter who was somewhat cheered at what her mother told her and both joined in resounding the praises of mr jones end of section 50 recording by charlene v smith