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 honour, 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 am sure thou are 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 favour. Prithee, Jack, answer me honestly; to
what 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 not you
intend she should?" "Upon my soul, Tom," cries Nightingale, "I did not
think this was in thee. Thou wilt make an admirable parson. So I
suppose you would not go to bed to Nancy now, if she would let you?"
"No," cries Jones, "may I be d--n'd if I would." "Tom, Tom," answered
Nightingale, "last night; remember last night--
When every eye was closed, and the pale moon,
And silent stars, shone conscious of the theft."
"Lookee, Mr. Nightingale," said Jones, "I am no canting hypocrite,
nor do I pretend to the gift of chastity, more than my neighbours. I
have been guilty with women, I own it; but am 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 hath 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 am 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," answered 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, therefore, you would not mention a word of it
to-day, and in the evening, or to-morrow 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 honour, and, what is more rare among young gentlemen of the
town, one of strict honesty too; 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 oftener affect 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, practised 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, agree 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 exprest great bitterness against any misbehaviour 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, honoured, 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 5
A short account of the history of Mrs. Miller
Jones this day eat a pretty good dinner for a sick man, that is to
say, the larger half of a shoulder of mutton. In the afternoon, he
received an invitation from Mrs. Miller to drink tea; for that good
woman, having learnt, either by means of Partridge, or by some other
means natural or supernatural, that he had a connexion with Mr.
Allworthy, could not endure the thoughts of parting with him in an
angry manner.
Jones accepted the invitation; and no sooner was the teakettle
removed, and the girls sent out of the room, than the widow, without
much preface, began as follows: "Well, there are very surprizing
things happen in this world; but certainly it is a wonderful
business that I should have a relation of Mr. Allworthy in my house
and never know anything of the matter. Alas! sir, you little imagine
what a friend that best of gentlemen hath been to me and mine. Yes,
sir, I am not ashamed to own it; it is owing to his goodness that I
did not long since perish for want, and leave my poor little wretches,
two destitute, helpless, friendless orphans, to the care, or rather to
the cruelty, of the world.
"You must know, sir, though I am now reduced to get my living by
letting lodgings, I was born and bred a gentlewoman. My father was
an officer of the army, and died in a considerable rank: but he
lived up to his pay; and, as that expired with him, his family, at his
death, became beggars. We were three sisters. One of us had the good
luck to die soon after of the small-pox; a lady was so kind as to take
the second out of charity, as she said, to wait upon her. The mother
of this lady had been a servant to my grandmother; and, having
inherited a vast fortune from her father, which he had got by
pawnbroking, was married to a gentleman of great estate and fashion.
She used my sister so barbarously, often upbraiding her with her birth
and poverty, calling her in derision a gentlewoman, that I believe she
at length broke the heart of the poor girl. In short, she likewise
died within a twelvemonth after my father. Fortune thought proper to
provide better for me, and within a month from his decease I was
married to a clergyman, who had been my lover a long time before,
and who had been very ill used by my father on that account: for
though my poor father could not give any of us a shilling, yet he bred
us up as delicately, considered us, and would have had us consider
ourselves, as highly as if we had been the richest heiresses. But my
dear husband forgot all this usage, and the moment we were become
fatherless, he immediately renewed his addresses to me so warmly, that
I, who always liked, and now more than ever esteemed him, soon
complied. Five years did I live in a state of perfect happiness with
that best of men, till at last- Oh! cruel! cruel fortune, that ever
separated us, that deprived me of the kindest of husbands and my
poor girls of the tenderest parent.- O my poor girls! you never know
the blessing which ye lost.-I am ashamed, Mr. Jones, of this
womanish weakness; but I shall never mention him without tears." "I
ought rather, madam," said Jones, "to be ashamed that I do not
accompany you." "Well, sir," continued she, "I was now left a second
time in a much worse condition than before; besides the terrible
affliction I was to encounter, I had now two children to provide
for; and was, if possible, more pennyless than ever; when that
great, that good, that glorious man, Mr. Allworthy, who had some
little acquaintance with my husband, accidentally heard of my
distress, and immediately writ this letter to me. Here, sir, here it
is; I put it into my pocket to shew it you. This is the letter, sir; I
must and will read it to you.
"MADAM,
"I heartily condole with you on your late grievous loss, which
your own good sense, and the excellent lessons you must have learnt
from the worthiest of men, will better enable you to bear than any
advice which I am capable of giving. Nor have I any doubt that you,
whom I have heard to be the tenderest of mothers, will suffer any
immoderate indulgence of grief to prevent you from discharging your
duty to those poor infants, who now alone stand in need of your
tenderness.
"However, as you must be supposed at present to be incapable of much
worldly consideration, you will pardon my having ordered a person to
wait on you, and to pay you twenty guineas, which I beg you will
accept till I have the pleasure of seeing you, and believe me to be,
madam, &c.
"This letter, sir, I received within a fortnight after the
irreparable loss I have mentioned; and within a fortnight
afterwards, Mr. Allworthy- the blessed Mr. Allworthy- came to pay me a
visit, when he placed me in the house where you now see me, gave me
a large sum of money to furnish it, and settled an annuity of L50
a-year upon me, which I have constantly received ever since. judge,
then, Mr. Jones, in what regard I must hold a benefactor, to whom I
owe the preservation of my life, and of those dear children, for whose
sake alone my life is valuable. Do not, therefore, think me
impertinent, Mr. Jones (since I must esteem one for whom I know Mr.
Allworthy hath so much value), if I beg you not to converse with these
wicked women. You are a young gentleman, and do not know half their
artful wiles. Do not be angry with me, sir, for what I said upon
account of my house; you must be sensible it would be the ruin of my
poor dear girls. Besides, sir, you cannot but be acquainted, that
Mr. Allworthy himself would never forgive my conniving at such
matters, and particularly with you."
"Upon my word, madam," said Jones, "you need make no farther
apology; nor do I in the least take anything ill you have said; but
give me leave, as no one can have more value than myself for Mr.
Allworthy, to deliver you from one mistake, which, perhaps, would
not be altogether for his honour; I do assure you, I am no relation of
his."
"Alas! sir," answered she, "I know you are not, I know very well who
you are; for Mr. Allworthy hath told me all; but I do assure you,
had you been twenty times his son, he could not have expressed more
regard for you than he hath often expressed in my presence. You need
not be ashamed, sir, of what you are; I promise you no good person
will esteem you the less on that account. No, Mr. Jones, the words
'dishonourable birth' are nonsense, as my dear, dear husband used to
say, unless the word 'dishonourable' be applied to the parents; for
the children can derive no real dishonour from an act of which they
are intirely innocent."
Here Jones heaved a deep sigh, and then said, "Since I perceive,
madam, you really do know me, and Mr. Allworthy hath thought proper to
mention my name to you; and since you have been so explicit with me as
to your own affairs, I will acquaint you with some more
circumstances concerning myself." And these Mrs. Miller having
expressed great desire and curiosity to hear, he began and related
to her his whole history, without once mentioning the name of Sophia.
There a kind of sympathy in honest minds, by means of which they
give an easy credit to each other. Mrs. Miller believed all which
Jones told her to be true, and exprest much pity and concern for
him. She was beginning to comment on the story, but Jones
interrupted her; for, as the hour of assignation now drew nigh, he
began to stipulate for a second interview with the lady that
evening, which he promised should be the last at her house;
swearing, at the same time, that she was one of great distinction, and
that nothing but what was intirely innocent was to pass between
them; and I do firmly believe he intended to keep his word.
Mrs. Miller was at length prevailed on, and Jones departed to his
chamber, where he sat alone till twelve o'clock, but no Lady Bellaston
appeared.
As we have said that this lady had a great affection for Jones,
and as it must have appeared that she really had so, the reader may
perhaps wonder at the first failure of her appointment, as she
apprehended him to be confined by sickness, a season when friendship
seems most to require such visits. This behaviour, therefore, in the
lady, may, by some, be condemned as unnatural; but that is not our
fault; for our business is only to record truth.
Chapter 6
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
