History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
convince her, if he had ever more the honour of being admitted to her
presence; and that he could account for the letter to Lady Bellaston
in such a manner, that, though it would not entitle him to her
forgiveness, he hoped at least to obtain it from her mercy. And
concluded with vowing that nothing was ever less in his thoughts than
to marry Lady Bellaston.
Though Sophia read the letter twice over with great attention, his
meaning still remained a riddle to her; nor could her invention
suggest to her any means to excuse Jones. She certainly remained very
angry with him, though indeed Lady Bellaston took up so much of her
resentment, that her gentle mind had but little left to bestow on any
other person.
That lady was most unluckily to dine this very day with her aunt
Western, and in the afternoon they were all three, by appointment, to
go together to the opera, and thence to Lady Thomas Hatchet's drum.
Sophia would have gladly been excused from all, but would not
disoblige her aunt; and as to the arts of counterfeiting illness, she
was so entirely a stranger to them, that it never once entered into
her head. When she was drest, therefore, down she went, resolved to
encounter all the horrors of the day, and a most disagreeable one it
proved; for Lady Bellaston took every opportunity very civilly and
slily to insult her; to all which her dejection of spirits disabled
her from making any return; and, indeed, to confess the truth, she was
at the very best but an indifferent mistress of repartee.
Another misfortune which befel poor Sophia was the company of Lord
Fellamar, whom she met at the opera, and who attended her to the drum.
And though both places were too publick to admit of any
particularities, and she was farther relieved by the musick at the one
place, and by the cards at the other, she could not, however, enjoy
herself in his company; for there is something of delicacy in women,
which will not suffer them to be even easy in the presence of a man
whom they know to have pretensions to them which they are disinclined
to favour.
Having in this chapter twice mentioned a drum, a word which our
posterity, it is hoped, will not understand in the sense it is here
applied, we shall, notwithstanding our present haste, stop a moment to
describe the entertainment here meant, and the rather as we can in a
moment describe it.
A drum, then, is an assembly of well-dressed persons of both sexes,
most of whom play at cards, and the rest do nothing at all; while the
mistress of the house performs the part of the landlady at an inn, and
like the landlady of an inn prides herself in the number of her
guests, though she doth not always, like her, get anything by it.
No wonder then, as so much spirits must be required to support any
vivacity in these scenes of dulness, that we hear persons of fashion
eternally complaining of the want of them; a complaint confined
entirely to upper life. How insupportable must we imagine this round
of impertinence to have been to Sophia at this time; how difficult
must she have found it to force the appearance of gaiety into her
looks, when her mind dictated nothing but the tenderest sorrow, and
when every thought was charged with tormenting ideas!
Night, however, at last restored her to her pillow, where we will
leave her to soothe her melancholy at least, though incapable we fear
of rest, and shall pursue our history, which, something whispers us,
is now arrived at the eve of some great event.
Chapter vii.
A pathetic scene between Mr Allworthy and Mrs Miller.
Mrs Miller had a long discourse with Mr Allworthy, at his return from
dinner, in which she acquainted him with Jones's having unfortunately
lost all which he was pleased to bestow on him at their separation;
and with the distresses to which that loss had subjected him; of all
which she had received a full account from the faithful retailer
Partridge. She then explained the obligations she had to Jones; not
that she was entirely explicit with regard to her daughter; for though
she had the utmost confidence in Mr Allworthy, and though there could
be no hopes of keeping an affair secret which was unhappily known to
more than half a dozen, yet she could not prevail with herself to
mention those circumstances which reflected most on the chastity of
poor Nancy, but smothered that part of her evidence as cautiously as
if she had been before a judge, and the girl was now on her trial for
the murder of a bastard.
Allworthy said, there were few characters so absolutely vicious as not
to have the least mixture of good in them. “However,” says he, “I
cannot deny but that you have some obligations to the fellow, bad as
he is, and I shall therefore excuse what hath past already, but must
insist you never mention his name to me more; for, I promise you, it
was upon the fullest and plainest evidence that I resolved to take the
measures I have taken.” “Well, sir,” says she, “I make not the least
doubt but time will shew all matters in their true and natural
colours, and that you will be convinced this poor young man deserves
better of you than some other folks that shall be nameless.”
“Madam,” cries Allworthy, a little ruffled, “I will not hear any
reflections on my nephew; and if ever you say a word more of that
kind, I will depart from your house that instant. He is the worthiest
and best of men; and I once more repeat it to you, he hath carried his
friendship to this man to a blameable length, by too long concealing
facts of the blackest die. The ingratitude of the wretch to this good
young man is what I most resent; for, madam, I have the greatest
reason to imagine he had laid a plot to supplant my nephew in my
favour, and to have disinherited him.”
“I am sure, sir,” answered Mrs Miller, a little frightened (for,
though Mr Allworthy had the utmost sweetness and benevolence in his
smiles, he had great terror in his frowns), “I shall never speak
against any gentleman you are pleased to think well of. I am sure,
sir, such behaviour would very little become me, especially when the
gentleman is your nearest relation; but, sir, you must not be angry
with me, you must not indeed, for my good wishes to this poor wretch.
Sure I may call him so now, though once you would have been angry with
me if I had spoke of him with the least disrespect. How often have I
heard you call him your son? How often have you prattled to me of him
with all the fondness of a parent? Nay, sir, I cannot forget the many
tender expressions, the many good things you have told me of his
beauty, and his parts, and his virtues; of his good-nature and
generosity. I am sure, sir, I cannot forget them, for I find them all
true. I have experienced them in my own cause. They have preserved my
family. You must pardon my tears, sir, indeed you must. When I
consider the cruel reverse of fortune which this poor youth, to whom I
am so much obliged, hath suffered; when I consider the loss of your
favour, which I know he valued more than his life, I must, I must
lament him. If you had a dagger in your hand, ready to plunge into my
heart, I must lament the misery of one whom you have loved, and I
shall ever love.”
Allworthy was pretty much moved with this speech, but it seemed not to
be with anger; for, after a short silence, taking Mrs Miller by the
hand, he said very affectionately to her, “Come, madam, let us
consider a little about your daughter. I cannot blame you for
rejoicing in a match which promises to be advantageous to her, but you
know this advantage, in a great measure, depends on the father's
reconciliation. I know Mr Nightingale very well, and have formerly had
concerns with him; I will make him a visit, and endeavour to serve you
in this matter. I believe he is a worldly man; but as this is an only
son, and the thing is now irretrievable, perhaps he may in time be
brought to reason. I promise you I will do all I can for you.”
Many were the acknowledgments which the poor woman made to Allworthy
for this kind and generous offer, nor could she refrain from taking
this occasion again to express her gratitude towards Jones, “to whom,”
said she, “I owe the opportunity of giving you, sir, this present
trouble.” Allworthy gently stopped her; but he was too good a man to
be really offended with the effects of so noble a principle as now
actuated Mrs Miller; and indeed, had not this new affair inflamed his
former anger against Jones, it is possible he might have been a little
softened towards him, by the report of an action which malice itself
could not have derived from an evil motive.
Mr Allworthy and Mrs Miller had been above an hour together, when
their conversation was put an end to by the arrival of Blifil and
another person, which other person was no less than Mr Dowling, the
attorney, who was now become a great favourite with Mr Blifil, and
whom Mr Allworthy, at the desire of his nephew, had made his steward;
and had likewise recommended him to Mr Western, from whom the attorney
received a promise of being promoted to the same office upon the first
vacancy; and, in the meantime, was employed in transacting some
affairs which the squire then had in London in relation to a mortgage.
This was the principal affair which then brought Mr Dowling to town;
therefore he took the same opportunity to charge himself with some
money for Mr Allworthy, and to make a report to him of some other
business; in all which, as it was of much too dull a nature to find
any place in this history, we will leave the uncle, nephew, and their
lawyer concerned, and resort to other matters.
Chapter viii.
Containing various matters.
Before we return to Mr Jones, we will take one more view of Sophia.
Though that young lady had brought her aunt into great good humour by
those soothing methods which we have before related, she had not
brought her in the least to abate of her zeal for the match with Lord
Fellamar. This zeal was now inflamed by Lady Bellaston, who had told
her the preceding evening, that she was well satisfied from the
conduct of Sophia, and from her carriage to his lordship, that all
delays would be dangerous, and that the only way to succeed was to
press the match forward with such rapidity that the young lady should
have no time to reflect, and be obliged to consent while she scarce
knew what she did; in which manner, she said, one-half of the
marriages among people of condition were brought about. A fact very
probably true, and to which, I suppose, is owing the mutual tenderness
which afterwards exists among so many happy couples.
A hint of the same kind was given by the same lady to Lord Fellamar;
and both these so readily embraced the advice that the very next day
was, at his lordship's request, appointed by Mrs Western for a private
interview between the young parties. This was communicated to Sophia
by her aunt, and insisted upon in such high terms, that, after having
urged everything she possibly could invent against it without the
least effect, she at last agreed to give the highest instance of
complacence which any young lady can give, and consented to see his
lordship.
As conversations of this kind afford no great entertainment, we shall
be excused from reciting the whole that past at this interview; in
which, after his lordship had made many declarations of the most pure
and ardent passion to the silent blushing Sophia, she at last
collected all the spirits she could raise, and with a trembling low
voice said, “My lord, you must be yourself conscious whether your
former behaviour to me hath been consistent with the professions you
now make.” “Is there,” answered he, “no way by which I can atone for
madness? what I did I am afraid must have too plainly convinced you,