arose from that natural weakness of the human mind, which makes it
desirous to know the worst, and renders uncertainty the most
intolerable of pains; or whether he still flattered himself with
some secret hopes, we will not determine. But that it might be the
last, whoever has loved cannot but know. For of all the powers
exercised by this passion over our minds, one of the most wonderful is
that of supporting hope in the midst of despair. Difficulties,
improbabilities, nay, impossibilities, are quite overlooked by it;
so that to any man extremely in love, may be applied what Addison says
of Caesar,
The Alps, and Pyrenaeans, sink before him!
Yet it is equally true, that the same passion will sometimes make
mountains of molehills, and produce despair in the midst of hope;
but these cold fits last not long in good constitutions. Which
temper Jones was now in, we leave the reader to guess, having no exact
information about it; but this is certain, that he had spent two hours
in expectation, when, being unable any longer to conceal his
uneasiness, he retired to his room; where his anxiety had almost
made him frantick, when the following letter was brought him from Mrs.
Honour, with which we shall present the reader verbatim et literatim.
SIR,
I shud sartenly haf kaled on you a cordin too mi prommiss haddunt
itt bin that hur lashipp prevent mee; for to bee sur, Sir, you nose
very well that evere persun must luk furst at ome, and sartenly such
anuther offar mite not have ever hapned, so as I shud ave bin justly
to blam, had I not excepted of it when her lashipp was so veri kind as
to offar to mak mee hur one uman without mi ever askin any such thing,
to be sur shee is won of thee best ladis in thee wurld, and pepil
who sase to the kontrari must bee veri wiket pepil in thare harts.
To bee sur if ever I ave sad any thing of that kine it as bin thru
ignorens, and I am hartili sorri for it. I nose your onur to be a
genteelman of more onur and onesty, if I ever said ani such thing,
to repete it to hurt a pore servant that as alwais add thee gratest
respect in thee wurld for ure onur. To be sur won shud kepe wons
tung within wons teeth, for no boddi nose what may hapen; and to bee
sur if ani boddi ad tolde mee yesterday, that I shud haf ben in so gud
a plase to day, I shud not haf beleeved it; for to be sur I never
was a dremd of an); such thing, nor shud I ever have soft after ani
other bodi's plase; but as her lashipp wass so kine of her one a
cord too give it mee without askin, to be sur Mrs. Etoff herself,
nor no other boddi can blam mee for exceptin such a thing when it fals
in mi waye. I beg ure Onur not to menshion ani thing of what I haf
sad, for I wish ure Onur all thee gud luk in the wurld; and I don't
cuestion butt thatt u will haf Madam Sofia in the end; butt ass to
miself ure onur nose I kant bee of ani farder sarvis to u in that
matar, nou bein under thee cumand off anuther parson, and note one
mistress, I begg ure Onur to say nothing of what past, and belive me
to be, sir, ure Onur's umble servant to cumand till deth,
HONOUR BLACKMORE
Various were the conjectures which Jones entertained on this step of
Lady Bellaston; who, in reality, had little farther design than to
secure within her own house the repository of a secret, which she
chose should make no farther progress than it had made already; but
mostly, she desired to keep it from the ears of Sophia; for though
that young lady was almost the only one who would never have
repeated it again, her ladyship could not persuade herself of this;
since, as she now hated poor Sophia with most implacable hatred, she
conceived a reciprocal hatred to herself to be lodged in the tender
breast of our heroine, where no such passion had ever yet found an
entrance.
While Jones was terrifying himself with the apprehension of a
thousand dreadful machinations, and deep political designs, which he
imagined to be at the bottom of the promotion of Honour, Fortune,
who hitherto seems to have been an utter enemy to his match with
Sophia, tried a new method to put a final end to it, by throwing a
temptation in his way, which in his present desperate situation it
seemed unlikely he should be able to resist.
Chapter 11
Containing curious, but not unprecedented matter
There was a lady, one Mrs. Hunt, who had often seen Jones at the
house where he lodged, being intimately acquainted with the women
there, and indeed a very great friend to Mrs. Miller. Her age was
about thirty, for she owned six-and-twenty; her face and person very
good, only inclining a little too much to be fat. She had been married
young by her relations to an old Turkey merchant, who, having got a
great fortune, had left off trade. With him she lived without
reproach, but not without pain, in a state of great self-denial, for
about twelve years; and her virtue was rewarded by his dying and
leaving her very rich. The first year of her widowhood was just at
an end, and she had past it in a good deal of retirement, seeing
only a few particular friends, and dividing her time between her
devotions and novels, of which she was always extremely fond. Very
good health, a very warm constitution, and a good deal of religion,
made it absolutely necessary for her to marry again; and she
resolved to please herself in her second husband, as she had done
her friends in the first. From her the following billet was brought to
Jones:-
SIR,
From the first day I saw you, I doubt my eyes have told you too
plainly that you were not indifferent to me; but neither my tongue nor
my hand should have ever avowed it, had not the ladies of the family
where you are lodged given me such a character of you, and told me
such proofs of your virtue and goodness, as convince me you are not
only the most agreeable, but the most worthy of men. I have also the
satisfaction to hear from them, that neither my person, understanding,
or character, are disagreeable to you. I have a fortune sufficient
to make us both happy, but which cannot make me so without you. In
thus disposing of myself, I know I shall incur the censure of the
world; but if I did not love you more than I fear the world, I
should not be worthy of you. One only difficulty stops me; I am
informed you are engaged in a commerce of gallantry with a woman of
fashion. If you think it worth while to sacrifice that to the
possession of me, I am yours; if not, forget my weakness, and let this
remain an eternal secret between you and
ARABELLA HUNT
At the reading of this, Jones was put into a violent flutter. His
fortune was then at a very low ebb, the source being stopt from
which hitherto he had been supplied. Of all he had received from
Lady Bellaston, not above five guineas remained; and that very morning
he had been dunned by a tradesman for twice that sum. His honourable
mistress was in the hands of her father, and he had scarce any hopes
ever to get her out of them again. To be subsisted at her expense,
from that little fortune she had independent of her father, went
much against the delicacy both of his pride and his love. This
lady's fortune would have been exceeding convenient to him, and he
could have no objection to her in any respect. On the contrary, he
liked her as well as he did any woman except Sophia. But to abandon
Sophia, and marry another, that was impossible; he could not think
of it upon any account. Yet why should he not, since it was plain
she could not be his? Would it not be kinder to her, than to
continue longer engaged to a hopeless passion for him? Ought he not to
do so in friendship to her? This notion prevailed some moments, and he
had almost determined to be false to her from a high point of
honour: but that refinement was not able to stand very long against
the voice of nature, which cried in his heart that such friendship was
treason to love. At last he called for pen, ink, and paper, and writ
as follows to Mrs. Hunt:-
MADAM,
It would be but a poor return to the favour have done me to
sacrifice any gallantry to the possession of you, and I would
certainly do it, though I were not disengaged, as at present I am,
from any affair of that kind. But I should not be the honest man you
think me, if I did not tell you that my affections are engaged to
another, who is a woman of virtue, and one that I never can leave,
though it is probable I shall never possess her. God forbid that, in
return of your kindness to me, I should do you such an injury as to
give you my hand when I cannot give my heart. No; I had much rather
starve than be guilty of that. Even though my mistress were married to
another, I would not marry you unless my heart had entirely effaced
all impressions of her. Be assured that your secret was not more
safe in your own breast, than in that of your most obliged, and
grateful humble servant,
T. JONES
When our heroe had finished and sent this letter, he went to his
scrutore, took out Miss Western's muff, kissed it several times, and
then strutted some turns about his room, with more satisfaction of
mind than ever any Irishman felt in carrying off a fortune of fifty
thousand pounds.
Chapter 12
A discovery made by Partridge
While Jones was exulting in the consciousness of his integrity,
Partridge came capering into the room, as was his custom when he
brought, or fancied he brought, any good tidings. He had been
dispatched that morning by his master, with orders to endeavour, by
the servants of Lady Bellaston, or by any other means, to discover
whither Sophia had been conveyed; and he now returned, and with a
joyful countenance told our heroe that he had found the lost bird.
"I have seen, sir," says he, "Black George, the gamekeeper, who is one
of the servants whom the squire hath brought with him to town. I
knew him presently, though I have not seen him these several years;
but you know, sir, he is a very remarkable man, or, to use a purer
phrase, he hath a most remarkable beard, the largest and blackest I
ever saw. It was some time, however, before Black George could
recollect me." "Well, but what is your good news?" cries Jones;
"what do you know of my Sophia?" "You shall know presently, sir,"
answered Partridge, "I am coming to it as fast as I can. You are so
impatient, sir, you would come at the infinitive mood before you can
get to the imperative. As I was saying, sir, it was some time before
he recollected my face."- "Confound your face!" cries Jones, "what of
my Sophia?" "Nay, sir," answered Partridge, "I know nothing more of
Madam Sophia than what I am going to tell you; and I should have
told you all before this if you had not interrupted me; but if you
look so angry at me, you will frighten all of it out of my head, or,
to use a purer phrase, out of my memory. I never saw you look so angry
since the day we left Upton, which I shall remember if I was to live a
thousand years."-- "Well, pray go on your own way," said Jones: "you
are resolved to make me mad, I find." "Not for the world," answered
Partridge, "I have suffered enough for that already; which, as I said,
I shall bear in my remembrance the longest day I have to live." "Well,
but Black George?" cries Jones. "Well, sir, as I was saying, it was
a long time before he could recollect me; for, indeed, I am very
much altered since I saw him. Non sum qualis eram.* I have had
troubles in the world, and nothing alters a man so much as grief. I
have heard it will change the colour of a man's hair in a night.
However, at last, know me he did, that's sure enough; for we are
both of an age, and were at the same charity school. George was a
great dunce, but no matter for that; all men do not thrive in the
world according to their learning. I am sure I have reason to say
so; but it will be all one a thousand years hence. Well, sir, where
was I?-- O- well, we no sooner knew each other, than, after many
hearty shakes by the hand, we agreed to go to an alehouse and take a
pot, and by good luck the beer was some of the best I have met with
since I have been in town. Now, sir, I am coming to the point; for no
sooner did I name you, and told him that you and I came to town
together, and had lived together ever since, than he called for
another pot, and swore he would drink to your health; and indeed he
drank your health so heartily that I was overjoyed to see there was so
much gratitude left in the world; and after we had emptied that pot I
said I would be my pot too, and so we drank another to your health;
and then I made haste home to tell you the news."
*I am not as I was.
"What news?" cries Jones, "yon have not mentioned a word of my
Sophia!" "Bless me! I had like to have forgot that. Indeed, we
mentioned a great deal about young Madam Western, and George told me
all; that Mr. Blifil. is coming to town in order to be married to her.
He had best make haste then, says I, or somebody will have her
before he comes; and, indeed, says I, Mr. Seagrim, it is a thousand
pities somebody should not have her; for he certainly loves her
above all the women in the world. I would have both you and she
know, that it is not for her fortune he follows her; for I can
assure you, as to matter of that, there is another lady, one of much
greater quality and fortune than she can pretend to, who is so fond of
somebody that she comes after him day and night."
Here Jones fell into a passion with Partridge, for having, as he
said, betrayed him; but the poor fellow answered, he had mentioned
no name: "Besides, sir," said he, "I can assure you, George is
sincerely your friend, and wished Mr. Blifil at the devil more than
once; nay, he said he would do anything in his power upon earth to
