Jones having very attentively heard all that Nightingale had to say, fetched a deep sigh, which the other observing, cried, "Heyday! why, thou art not in love, I hope! Had I imagined my stories would have affected you, I promise you should never have heard them."-"O, my dear friend," cries Jones, "I am so entangled with this woman, that I know not how to extricate myself. In love indeed! no, my friend, but I am under obligations to her, and very great ones. Since you know so much, I will be very explicit with you. It is owing, perhaps, solely to her, that I have not before this wanted a bit of bread. How can I possibly desert such a woman? and yet I must desert her, or be guilty of the blackest treachery to one who deserves infinitely better of me than she can; a woman, my Nightingale, for whom I have a passion which few can have an idea of. I am half distracted with doubts how to act."-" And is this other, pray, an honourable mistress?" cries Nightingale." Honourable !" answered Jones; "no breath ever yet durst sully her reputation. The sweetest air is not purer, the limpid stream not clearer, than her honour. She is all over, both in mind and body, consummate perfection. She is the most beautiful creature in the universe, and yet she is mistress of such noble, elevated qualities, that though she is never from my thoughts, I scarce ever think of her beauty but when I see it."-" And can you, my good friend," cries Nightingale, "with such an engagement as this upon your hands, hesitate a moment about quitting such a "Hold," said Jones, "no more abuse of her; I detest the thought of ingratitude."-" Pooh!" answered the other, "you are not the first upon whom she hath conferred obligations of this kind. She is remarkably liberal where she likes; though, let me tell you, her favours are so prudently bestowed, that they should rather raise a man's vanity than his gratitude." In short, Nightingale proceeded so far on this head, and told his friend so many stories of the lady, which he swore to the truth of, that he entirely removed all esteem for her from the breast of Jones, and his gratitude was lessened in proportion. Indeed he began to look on all the favours he had received rather as wages than benefits, which not only depreciated her, but himself too, in his own conceit, and put him quite out of humour with both. From this disgust his mind, by a natural transition, turned towards Sophia; her virtue, her purity, her love to him, her sufferings on his account, filled all his thoughts, and made his commerce with Lady Bellaston appear still more odious. The result of all was, that though his turning himself out of her service, in which light he now saw his affair with her, would be the loss of his bread, yet he determined to quit her, if he could but find a handsome pretence; which having communicated to his friend, Nightingale considered a little, and said, "I have it, my boy! I have found out a sure method: propose marriage to her, and I would venture hanging upon the success.' Marriage!" cries Jones." Ay, propose marriage," answered Nightingale, "and she will declare off in a moment. I knew a young fellow whom she kept formerly, who made the offer to her in earnest, and was presently turned off for his pains." Jones declared he could not venture the ex periment. "Perhaps," said he, "she may be less shocked at this proposal from one man than from another; and if she should take me at my word, where am I then? caught in my own trap, and undone for ever."-"No," answered Nightingale; "not if I can give you an expedient, by which you may, at any time, get out of the trap."-" What expedient can that be?" replied Jones." This," answered Nightingale. "The young fellow I mentioned, who is one of the most intimate acquaintances I have in the world, is so angry with her for some ill offices she hath since done him, that I am sure he would, without any difficulty, give you a sight of her letters; upon which you may decently break with her, and declare off before the knot is tied, if she should really be willing to tie it, which I am convinced she will not.' After some hesitation, Jones, upon the strength of this assurance, consented; but as he swore he wanted the confidence to propose the matter to her face, he wrote the following letter, which Nightingale dictated. MADAM, "I AM extremely concerned that, by an unfortunate engagement abroad, I should have missed receiving the honour of your ladyship's commands the moment they came; and the delay which I must now suffer of vindicating myself to your ladyship, greatly adds to this misfortune. O Lady Bellaston, what a terror have I been in, for fear your reputation should be exposed by these perverse accidents! There is one only way to secure it. I need not name what that is: only permit me to say, that as your honour is as dear to me as my own, so my sole ambition is to have the glory of laying my liberty at your feet; and believe me, when I assure you, I can never be made completely happy, without you generously bestow on me a legal right of calling you mine for ever. I am, 66 Madam, "With most profound respect, mention; nay, that we had for many years composed that monstrous animal, a husband and wife. Do you really then imagine me a fool? or do you fancy yourself capable of so entirely persuading me out of my senses, that I should deliver my whole fortune into your power, in order to enable you to support your pleasures at my expence? Are these the proofs of love which I expected? Is this the return for-but I scorn to upbraid you, and am in great admiration of your profound respect. "P. S. I am prevented from revising :Perhaps I have said more than I meant.-Come to me at eight this evening.” you owe the regaining your liberty; to you I owe the loss of mine: but if you are as happy in the one instance as I am in the other, I promise you, we are the two happiest fellows in England." The two gentlemen were now summoned down to dinner, where Mrs Miller, who performed herself the office of cook, had exerted her best talents to celebrate the wedding of her daughter. This joyful circumstance she ascribed principally to the friendly behaviour of Jones; her whole soul was fired with gratitude towards him, and all her looks, words, and actions, were so busied in expressing it, that her daughter, and even her son-in-law, were very little the Jones, by the advice of his privy-council, re- objects of her consideration. plied, "MADAM, "It is impossible to express how much I am shocked at the suspicion you entertain of me. Can Lady Bellaston have conferred favours on a man whom she could believe capable of so base a design? or can she treat the most solemn tie of love with contempt? Can you imagine, madam, that if the violence of my passion, in an unguarded moment, overcame the tenderness which I have for your honour, that I would think of indulging myself in the continuance of an intercourse which could not possibly escape long the notice of the world, and which, when discovered, must prove so fatal to your reputation? If such be your opinion of me, I must pray for a sudden opportunity of returning those pecuniary obligations which I have been so unfortunate to receive at your hands, and for those of a more tender kind I shall ever remain," &c. And so concluded in the very words with which he had concluded the former letter. The lady answered as follows: "I see you are a villain, and I despise you from my soul. If you come here, I shall not be at home." Though Jones was well satisfied with his deliverance from a thraldom which those who have ever experienced it, will, I apprehend, allow to be none of the lightest, he was not, however, perfectly easy in his mind. There was in this scheme too much of fallacy to satisfy one who utterly detested every species of falsehood or dishonesty; nor would he, indeed, have submitted to put it in practice, had he not been involved in a distressful situation, where he was obliged to be guilty of some dishonour, either to the one lady or to the other; and surely the reader will allow, that every good principle, as well as love, pleaded strongly in favour of Sophia. Nightingale highly exulted in the success of his stratagem, upon which he received many thanks, and very much applause, from his friend. He answered, "Dear Tom, we have conferred very different obligations on each other. To me Dinner was just ended when Mrs Miller received a letter; but as we have had letters enough in this chapter, we shall communicate the contents in our next. CHAP. X. Consisting partly of fucts, and partly of observations upon them. the preceding chapter, was from Mr Allworthy, THE letter, then, which arrived at the end of and the purport of it was his intention to come and a desire to be accommodated with his usual immediately to town, with his nephew Blifil, lodgings, which were the first floor for himself, and the second for his nephew. The chearfulness which had before displayed itself in the countenance of the poor woman, was indeed a good deal disconcert her. To requite so disinterested a match with her daughter, by presently turning her new son-in-law out of doors, appeared to her very unjustifiable on the one hand; and, on the other, she could scarce bear the thoughts of making any excuse to Mr Allworthy, after all the obligations received from him, for depriving him of lodgings which were indeed strictly his due: for that gentleman, in conferring all his numberless benefits on others, acted by a rule diametrically opposite to what is practised by most generous people. He contrived on all occasions to hide his beneficence, not only from the world, but even from the object of it. He constantly used the words Lend and Pay, instead of Give; and, by every other method he could invent, always lessened with his tongue the favours he conferred, while he was heaping them with both his hands. When he settled the annuity of L. 50 a-year, therefore, on Mrs Miller, he told her, "It was in consideration of always having her first floor when he was in town, (which he scarce ever intended to be,) but that she might let it at any other time, for he would always send her a month's warning." He was now, however, hurried to town so suddenly, that he had no opportunity of giving such a little clouded on this occasion. This news did notice; and this hurry probably prevented him, when he wrote for his lodgings, adding, if they were then empty: for he would most certainly have been well satisfied to have relinquished them on a less sufficient excuse than what Mrs Miller could now have made. But there are a sort of persons who, as Prior excellently well remarks, direct their conduct by something Beyond the fir'd and settled rules Of vice and virtue in the schools ; Beyond the letter of the law. To these it is so far from being sufficient that their defence would acquit them at the OldBailey, that they are not even contented, though conscience, the severest of all judges, should discharge them. Nothing short of the fair and honourable will satisfy the delicacy of their minds; and if any of their actions fall short of this mark, they mope and pine, are as uneasy and restless as a murderer, who is afraid of a ghost, or of the hangman. Mrs Miller was one of these. She could not conceal her uneasiness at this letter: with the contents of which she had no sooner acquainted the company, and given some hints of her distress, than Jones, her good angel, presently relieved her anxiety. "As for myself, madam," said he, "my lodging is at your service at a moment's warning: and Mr Nightingale, I am sure, as he cannot yet prepare a house fit to receive his lady, will consent to return to his new lodging, whither Mrs Nightingale will certainly consent to go." With which proposal both husband and wife instantly agreed. The reader will easily believe, that the cheeks of Mrs Miller began again to glow with additional gratitude to Jones; but, perhaps, it may be more difficult to persuade him, that Mr Jones having, in his last speech, called her daughter Mrs Nightingale (it being the first time that agreeable sound had ever reached her ears,) gave the fond mother more satisfaction, and warmed her heart more towards Jones, than his having dissipated her present anxiety. The next day was then appointed for the removal of the new-married couple, and of Mr Jones, who was likewise to be provided for in the same house with his friend. And now the serenity of the company was again restored, and they past the day in the utmost chearfulness, all except Jones, who, though he outwardly accompanied the rest in their mirth, felt many a bitter pang on the account of his Sophia; which were not a little heightened by the news of Mr Blifil's coming to town, (for he clearly saw the intention of his journey :) and what greatly aggravated his concern was, that Mrs Honour, who had promised to enquire after Sophia, and to make her report to him early the next evening, had disappointed him. In the situation that he and his mistress were in at this time, there were scarce any grounds for him to hope that he should hear any good news; yet he was as impatient to see Mrs Honour, as if he had expected she would bring him a letter with an assignation in it from Sophia, and bore the disappointment as ill. Whether this impatience 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 Cæsar, The Alps, and Pyrenæans, sink before him. Yet it is equally true, that the same passion will produce despair in the midst of hope; but these sometimes make mountains of mole-hills, and cold fits last not long in good constitutions. Which temper Jones was now in, we leave the about it; but this is certain, that he had spent reader to guess, having no exact information two hours in expectation, when, being unable red to his room; where his anxiety had almost any longer to conceal his uneasiness, he retimade him frantic, when the following letter was brought him from Mrs Honour, with which we present the reader verbatim et literatim. shall "SIR, "I shud sartenly haf kaled on you a cordin too mi promiss haddunt itt bin that hur lashipp prevent mee; for too be sur, sir, you nose very well that evere persun must luk furst at ome, and sartenly such another offar mite not ave ever hapned, so as I shud ave been justly to blam, had I not excepted of it when her laship was so veri kind as to offar to mak mee hur one uman without me ever asking any such thing, to bee 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 be 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 ad thee gratest respect in thee world for ure onur. To bee sur won shud keep 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 bin in so gud a plase to day, I shud not haf beleeyed it; for too bee sur I never was a dremd of any such thing, nor shud I ever have soft after ani other bodi's plase; but as her lashippe was so kine of her one a cord to give it mee without asking, 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 too menshion any thing of what I haf sad, for I wish ure onur all thee gud luk in the wurld; and I don't cuestion but thatt u will haf Madam Sofia in the end; butt as to miself, ure onur nose I cant bee of ani farder sarvis to u in that matar, nou bein under the cumand off anuthar parson, and not mi one mistres. I beg ure onur to say nothing of what past, and belive me to be, sir, "Ure onur's umble sarvant "HONOUR BLACKMORE." Various were the conjectures which Jones entertained for 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 the way of Jones, which, in his present desperate situation, it seemed unlikely he should be able to resist. CHAP. XI. 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 VOL. I. 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 passed 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 great 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 expence 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 exceedingly 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 2 E be kinder to her, than to continue her longer engaged in 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 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 you 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 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 of "Your most obliged, and "Grateful humble servant, "T. JONES." When our hero had finished and sent this letter, he went to his scrutoire, 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. CHAP. XII. 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 hero, 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 in 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 in 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." "What news?" cries Jones; "you have not mentioned a word of my Sophia." "Bless me! I had like to have forgot that. |