As soon as Mr. Western was gone, Mrs. Waters said, ‘I see, Sir, the Squire hath not the least Remembrance of my Face. I believe, Mr. Allworthy, you would not have known me neither. I am very considerably altered since that Day when you so kindly gave me that Advice, which I had been happy had I followed.’—‘Indeed, Madam,’ cries Allworthy, ‘it gave me great Concern when I first heard the contrary.’ ‘Indeed, Sir,’ says she, ‘I was ruined by a very deep Scheme of Villainy, which if you knew, though I pretend not to think it would justify me in your Opinion, it would at least mitigate my Offence, and induce you to pity me; you are not now at Leisure to hear my whole Story; but this I assure you, I was betrayed by the most solemn Promises of Marriage; nay, in the Eye of Heaven I was married to him: For after much reading on the Subject, I am convinced that particular Ceremonies are only requisite to give a legal Sanction to Marriage, and have only a worldly Use in giving a Woman the Privileges of a Wife; but that she who lives constant to one Man, after a solemn private Affiance, whatever the World may call her, hath little to charge on her own Conscience.’ ‘I am sorry, Madam,’ said Allworthy, ‘you made so ill an Use of your Learning. Indeed it would have been well that you had been possessed of much more, or had remained in a State of Ignorance. And yet, Madam, I am afraid you have more than this Sin to answer for.’ ‘During his Life,’ answered she, ‘which was above a Dozen Years, I most solemnly assure you, I had not. And consider, Sir, on my Behalf, what is in the Power of a Woman stript of her Reputation, and left destitute; whether the good-natured World will suffer such a stray Sheep to return to the Road of Virtue, even if she was never so desirous. I protest then I would have chose it had it been in my Power; but Necessity drove me into the Arms of Capt. Waters, with whom, though still unmarried, I lived as a Wife for many Years, and went by his Name. I parted with this Gentleman at Worcester, on his March against the Rebels, and it was then I accidentally met with Mr. Jones, who rescued me from the Hands of a Villain. Indeed he is the worthiest of Men. No young Gentleman of his Age is, I believe, freer from Vice, and few have the twentieth Part of his Virtues; nay, whatever Vices he hath had, I am firmly persuaded he hath now taken a Resolution to abandon them.’ ‘I hope he hath,’ cries Allworthy, ‘and I hope he will preserve that Resolution. I must say I have still the same Hopes with Regard to yourself. The World, I do agree, are apt to be too unmerciful on these Occasions; yet Time and Perseverance will get the better of this their Disinclination, as I may call it, to Pity; for though they are not, like Heaven, ready to receive a penitent Sinner; yet a continued Repentance will at length obtain Mercy even with the World. This you may be assured of, Mrs. Waters, that whenever I find you are sincere in such good Intentions, you shall want no Assistance in my Power to make them effectual.’
Mrs. Waters fell now upon her Knees before him, and, in a Flood of Tears, made him many most passionate Acknowledgments of his Goodness, which, as she truly said, savoured more of the divine than human Nature.
Allworthy raised her up, and spoke in the most tender Manner, making Use of every Expression which his Invention could suggest to comfort her, when he was interrupted by the Arrival of Mr. Dowling, who, upon his first Entrance, seeing Mrs. Waters, started, and appeared in some Confusion; from which he soon recovered himself as well as he could, and then said, he was in the utmost Haste to attend Council at Mr. Western’s Lodgings; but however, thought it his Duty to call and acquaint him with the Opinion of Council, upon the Case which he had before told him, which was, that the Conversion of the Moneys in that Case could not be questioned in a Criminal Cause, but that an Action of Trover2 might be brought, and if it appeared to the Jury to be the Moneys of Plaintiff, that Plaintiff would recover a Verdict for the Value.
Allworthy, without making any Answer to this, bolted the Door, and then advancing with a stern Look to Dowling, he said, ‘Whatever be your Haste, Sir, I must first receive an Answer to some Questions. Do you know this Lady?’—‘That Lady, Sir?’ answered Dowling, with great Hesitation. Allworthy then, with the most solemn Voice, said, ‘Look you, Mr. Dowling, as you value my Favour, or your Continuance a Moment longer in my Service, do not hesitate nor prevaricate; but answer faithfully and truly to every Question I ask.—Do you know this Lady?’—‘Yes, Sir,’ said Dowling, ‘I have seen the Lady.’ ‘Where, Sir?’ ‘At her own Lodgings.’——‘Upon what Business did you go thither, Sir; and who sent you?’ ‘I went, Sir, to enquire, Sir, about Mr. Jones.’ ‘And who sent you to enquire about him?’ ‘Who, Sir; why, Sir, Mr. Blifil sent me.’ ‘And what did you say to the Lady concerning that Matter?’ ‘Nay, Sir, it is impossible to recollect every Word.’ ‘Will you please, Madam, to assist the Gentleman’s Memory?’ ‘He told me, Sir,’ said Mrs. Waters, “‘that if Mr. Jones had murdered my Husband, I should be assisted by any Money I wanted to carry on the Prosecution, by a very worthy Gentleman, who was well apprized what a Villain I had to deal with.” These, I can safely swear, were the very Words he spoke.’—‘Were these the Words, Sir?’ said Allworthy. ‘I cannot charge my Memory exactly,’ cries Dowling, ‘but I believe I did speak to that Purpose.’——‘And did Mr. Blifil order you to say so?’ ‘I am sure, Sir, I should not have gone on my own Accord, nor have willingly exceeded my Authority in Matters of this Kind. If I said so, I must have so understood Mr. Blifil’s Instructions.’ ‘Look you, Mr. Dowling,’ said Allworthy, ‘I promise you before this Lady, that whatever you have done in this Affair by Mr. Blifil’s Order, I will forgive; provided you now tell me strictly the Truth: For I believe what you say, that you would not have acted of your own Accord, and without Authority, in this Matter.—Mr. Blifil then likewise sent you to examine the two Fellows at Aldersgate?’—‘He did, Sir.’ ‘Well, and what Instructions did he then give you? Recollect as well as you can, and tell me, as near as possible, the very Words he used.’——‘Why, Sir, Mr. Blifil sent me to find out the Persons who were Eye-Witnesses of this Fight. He said, he feared they might be tampered with by Mr. Jones, or some of his Friends. He said, Blood required Blood; and that not only all who concealed a Murderer, but those who omitted any Thing in their Power to bring him to Justice, were Sharers in his Guilt. He said, he found you was very desirous of having the Villain brought to Justice, though it was not proper you should appear in it.’—‘He did so?’ says Allworthy.—‘Yes, Sir,’ cries Dowling, ‘I should not, I am sure, have proceeded such Lengths for the Sake of any other Person living but your Worship.’—‘What Lengths, Sir?’ said Allworthy.—‘Nay, Sir,’ cries Dowling, ‘I would not have your Worship think I would, on any Account, be guilty of Subornation of Perjury; but there are two Ways of delivering Evidence. I told them therefore, that if any Offers should be made them on the other Side, they should refuse them, and that they might be assured they should lose nothing by being honest Men, and telling the Truth. I said, we were told, that Mr. Jones had assaulted the Gentleman first, and that if that was the Truth, they should declare it; and I did give them some Hints that they should be no Losers.’—‘I think you went Lengths indeed,’ cries Allworthy.—‘Nay, Sir,’ answered Dowling, ‘I am sure I did not desire them to tell an Untruth;—nor should I have said what I did, unless it had been to oblige you.’——‘You would not have thought, I believe,’ says Allworthy, ‘to have obliged me, had you known that this Mr. Jones was my own Nephew.’—‘I am sure, Sir,’ answered he, ‘it did not become me to take any Notice of what I thought you desired to conceal.’—‘How!’ cries Allworthy, ‘and did you know it then?’—‘Nay, Sir,’ answered Dowling, ‘if your Worship bids me speak the Truth, I am sure I shall do it.—Indeed, Sir, I did know it; for they were almost the last Words which Madam Blifil ever spoke, which she mentioned to me as I stood alone by her Bedside, when she delivered me the Letter I brought your Worship from her.’—‘What Letter?’ cries Allworthy.—‘The Letter, Sir,’ answered Dowling, ‘which I brought from Salisbury, and which I delivered into the Hands of Mr. Blifil.’—‘O Heavens!’ cries Allworthy, ‘Well, and what were the Wor
ds? What did my Sister say to you?’—‘She took me by the Hand,’ answered he, ‘and as she delivered me the Letter, said, “I scarce know what I have written. Tell my Brother, Mr. Jones is his Nephew—He is my Son.——Bless him,” says she, and then fell backward, as if dying away. I presently called in the People, and she never spoke more to me, and died within a few Minutes afterwards.’— Allworthy stood a Minute silent, lifting up his Eyes, and then turning to Dowling, said, —‘How came you, Sir, not to deliver me this Message?’ ‘Your Worship,’ answered he, ‘must remember that you was at that Time ill in Bed; and being in a violent Hurry, as indeed I always am, I delivered the Letter and Message to Mr. Blifil, who told me he would carry them both to you, which he hath since told me he did, and that your Worship, partly out of Friendship to Mr. Jones, and partly out of Regard to your Sister, would never have it mentioned; and did intend to conceal it from the World; and therefore, Sir, if you had not mentioned it to me first, I am certain I should never have thought it belonged to me to say any Thing of the Matter, either to your Worship, or any other Person.’
We have remarked somewhere already, that it is possible for a Man to convey a Lie in the Words of Truth; this was the Case at present: For Blifil had, in Fact, told Dowling what he now related; but had not imposed upon him, nor indeed had imagined he was able so to do. In Reality, the Promises which Blifil had made to Dowling, were the Motives which had induced him to Secrecy; and as he now very plainly saw Blifil would not be able to keep them, he thought proper now to make his Confession, which the Promises of Forgiveness, joined to the Threats, the Voice, the Looks of Allworthy, and the Discoveries he had made before, extorted from him, who was besides taken unawares, and had no Time to consider of Evasions.
Allworthy appeared well satisfied with this Relation, and having enjoined on Dowling strict Silence as to what had past, conducted that Gentleman himself to the Door, lest he should see Blifil, who was returned to his Chamber, where he exulted in the Thoughts of his last Deceit on his Uncle, and little suspected what had since passed below Stairs.
As Allworthy was returning to his Room, he met Mrs. Miller in the Entry, who, with a Face all pale and full of Terror, said to him, ‘O! Sir, I find this wicked Woman hath been with you, and you know all; yet do not on this Account abandon the poor young Man. Consider, Sir, he was ignorant it was his own Mother; and the Discovery itself will most probably break his Heart, without your Unkindness.’
‘Madam,’ says Allworthy, ‘I am under such an Astonishment at what I have heard, that I am really unable to satisfy you; but come with me into my Room. Indeed, Mrs. Miller, I have made surprizing Discoveries, and you shall soon know them.’
The poor Woman followed him trembling; and now Allworthy going up to Mrs. Waters, took her by the Hand, and then turning to Mrs. Miller said, ‘What Reward shall I bestow upon this Gentlewoman for the Services she hath done me?—O! Mrs. Miller, you have a thousand Times heard me call the young Man to whom you are so faithful a Friend, my Son. Little did I then think he was indeed related to me at all.—Your Friend, Madam, is my Nephew; he is the Brother of that wicked Viper which I have so long nourished in my Bosom.—She will herself tell you the whole Story, and how the Youth came to pass for her Son. Indeed, Mrs. Miller, I am convinced that he hath been wronged, and that I have been abused; abused by one whom you too justly suspected of being a Villain. He is, in Truth, the worst of Villains.’
The Joy which Mrs. Miller now felt, bereft her of the Power of Speech, and might perhaps have deprived her of her Senses, if not of Life, had not a friendly Shower of Tears come seasonably to her Relief. At length recovering so far from her Transport as to be able to speak, she cried: ‘And is my dear Mr. Jones then your Nephew, Sir? and not the Son of this Lady? and are your Eyes opened to him at last? and shall I live to see him as happy as he deserves?’ ‘He certainly is my Nephew,’ says Allworthy, ‘and I hope all the rest.’— ‘And is this the dear good Woman, the Person,’ cries she, ‘to whom all this Discovery is owing!’—‘She is indeed,’ says Allworthy.— ‘Why then,’ cried Mrs. Miller, upon her Knees, ‘may Heaven shower down its choicest Blessings upon her Head, and for this one good Action forgive her all her Sins, be they never so many.’
Mrs. Waters then informed them, that she believed Jones would very shortly be released; for that the Surgeon was gone, in Company with a Nobleman, to the Justice who committed him, in order to certify that Mr. Fitzpatrick was out of all Manner of Danger, and to procure his Prisoner his Liberty.
Allworthy said, he should be glad to find his Nephew there at his Return home; but that he was then obliged to go on some Business of Consequence. He then called to a Servant to fetch him a Chair, and presently left the two Ladies together.
Mr. Blifil hearing the Chair ordered, came down Stairs to attend upon his Uncle; for he never was deficient in such Acts of Duty. He asked his Uncle if he was going out? which is a civil Way of asking a Man whither he is going: To which the other making no Answer, he again desired to know, when he would be pleased to return?— Allworthy made no Answer to this neither, till he was just going into his Chair, and then turning about, he said.— ‘Harkee, Sir, do you find out, before my Return, the Letter which your Mother sent me on her Death-bed.’ Allworthy then departed, and left Blifil in a Situation to be envied only by a Man who is just going to be hanged.
CHAPTER IX.
A further Continuation.
Allworthy took an Opportunity whilst he was in the Chair, of reading the Letter from Jones to Sophia, which Western delivered him; and there were some Expressions in it concerning himself, which drew Tears from his Eyes. At length he arrived at Mr. Western’s, and was introduced to Sophia.
When the first Ceremonies were past, and the Gentleman and Lady had taken their Chairs, a Silence of some Minutes ensued; during which, the latter, who had been prepared for the Visit by her Father, sat playing with her Fan, and had every Mark of Confusion both in her Countenance and Behaviour. At length Allworthy, who was himself a little disconcerted, began thus; ‘I am afraid, Miss Western, my Family hath been the Occasion of giving you some Uneasiness! to which, I fear I have innocently become more instrumental than I intended. Be assured, Madam, had I at first known how disagreeable the Proposals had been, I should not have suffered you to have been so long persecuted. I hope therefore you will not think the Design of this Visit is to trouble you with any further Solicitations of that kind, but entirely to relieve you from them.’
‘Sir,’ said Sophia, with a little modest Hesitation, ‘this Behaviour is most kind and generous, and such as I could expect only from Mr. Allworthy: But as you have been so kind to mention this Matter, you will pardon me for saying it hath indeed given me great Uneasiness, and hath been the Occasion of my suffering much cruel Treatment from a Father, who was,’ till that unhappy Affair, the tenderest and fondest of all Parents. I am convinced, Sir, you are too good and generous to resent my Refusal of your Nephew. Our Inclinations are not in our own Power; and whatever may be his Merit, I cannot force them in his Favour.’ ‘I assure you, most amiable young Lady,’ said Allworthy, ‘I am capable of no such Resentment, had the Person been my own Son, and had I entertained the highest Esteem for him. For you say truly, Madam, we cannot force our Inclinations, much less can they be directed by another.’ ‘Oh! Sir,’ answered Sophia, ‘every Word you speak proves you to deserve that good, that great, that benevolent Character the whole World allows you. I assure you, Sir, nothing less than the certain Prospect of future Misery could have made me resist the Commands of my Father.’ ‘I sincerely believe you, Madam,’ replied Allworthy, ‘and I heartily congratulate you on your prudent Foresight, since by so justifiable a Resistance you have avoided Misery indeed.’ ‘You speak now, Mr. Allworthy,’ cries she, ‘with a Delicacy which few Men are capable of feeling; but surely in my Opinion, to lead our Lives with one to whom we are indifferent, must be a State of Wretchedness—Perhaps that Wretchedness would be even increased by a Sense of the Merits of an Object to
whom we cannot give our Affections. If I had married Mr. Blifil’—‘Pardon my interrupting you, Madam,’ answered All-worthy, ‘but I cannot bear the Supposition.—Believe me, Miss Western, I rejoice from my Heart, I rejoice in your Escape.—I have discovered the Wretch, for whom you have suffered all this cruel Violence from your Father, to be a Villain.’ ‘How, Sir!’ cries Sophia, —‘you must believe this surprizes me.’—‘It hath surprized me, Madam,’ answered Allworthy, ‘and so it will the World.— But I have acquainted you with the real Truth.’ ‘Nothing but Truth,’ says Sophia, ‘can, I am convinced, come from the Lips of Mr. Allworthy.—Yet, Sir, such sudden, such unexpected News— Discovered, you say—may Villainy be ever so.’—‘You will soon enough hear the Story,’ cries Allworthy, —‘at present let us not mention so detested a Name—I have another Matter of a very serious Nature to propose.—O! Miss Western, I know your vast Worth, nor can I so easily part with the Ambition of being allied to it.—I have a near Relation, Madam, a young Man whose Character is, I am convinced, the very opposite to that of this Wretch, and whose Fortune I will make equal to what his was to have been.—Could I, Madam, hope you would admit a Visit from him?’ Sophia, after a Minutes Silence, answered, ‘I will deal with the utmost Sincerity with Mr. Allworthy. His Character and the Obligation I have just received from him, demand it. I have determined at present to listen to no such Proposals from any Person. My only Desire is to be restored to the Affection of my Father, and to be again the Mistress of his Family. This, Sir, I hope to owe to your good Offices. Let me beseech you, let me conjure you by all the Goodness which I, and all who know you, have experienced; do not the very Moment when you have released me from one Persecution, do not engage me in another, as miserable and as fruitless.’ ‘Indeed, Miss Western,’ replied Allworthy, ‘I am capable of no such Conduct; and if this be your Resolution, he must submit to the Disappointment, whatever Torments he may suffer under it.’ ‘I must smile now, Mr. Allworthy,’ answered Sophia, ‘when you mention the Torments of a Man whom I do not know, and who can consequently have so little Acquaintance with me.’ ‘Pardon me, dear young Lady,’ cries Allworthy, ‘I begin now to be afraid he hath had too much Acquaintance for the Repose of his future Days; since, if ever Man was capable of a sincere, violent and noble Passion, such, I am convinced, is my unhappy Nephew’s for Miss Western.’ ‘A Nephew of yours! Mr. Allworthy,’ answered Sophia. ‘It is surely strange, I never heard of him before.’ ‘Indeed! Madam,’ cries Allworthy, ‘it is only the Circumstance of his being my Nephew to which you are a Stranger, and which, ’till this Day, was a Secret to me.—Mr. Jones, who has long loved you, he! he is my Nephew.’ ‘Mr. Jones your Nephew, Sir?’ cries Sophia, ‘Can it be possible?’—‘He is indeed, Madam,’ answered Allworthy: ‘He is my own Sister’s Son——as such I shall always own him; nor am I ashamed of owning him. I am much more ashamed of my past Behaviour to him; but I was as ignorant of his Merit as of his Birth. Indeed, Miss Western, I have used him cruelly—Indeed I have.’—Here the good Man wiped his Eyes, and after a short Pause proceeded—‘I never shall be able to reward him for his Sufferings without your Assistance.—Believe me, most amiable young Lady, I must have a great Esteem of that Offering which I make to your Worth. I know he hath been guilty of Faults; but there is great Goodness of Heart at the Bottom. Believe me, Madam, there is.’—Here he stopped, seeming to expect an Answer, which he presently received from Sophia, after she had a little recovered herself from the Hurry of Spirits into which so strange and sudden Information had thrown her: ‘I sincerely wish you Joy, Sir, of a Discovery in which you seem to have such Satisfaction. I doubt not but you will have all the Comfort you can promise yourself from it. The young Gentleman hath certainly a thousand good Qualities, which makes it impossible he should not behave well to such an Uncle.’—‘I hope, Madam,’ said Allworthy, ‘he hath those good Qualities which must make him a good Husband.—He must, I am sure, be of all Men the most abandoned, if a Lady of your Merit should condescend’—‘You must pardon me, Mr. Allworthy,’ answered Sophia, ‘I cannot listen to a Proposal of this Kind. Mr. Jones, I am convinced, hath much Merit; but I shall never receive Mr. Jones as one who is to be my Husband—— Upon my Honour I never will.’—‘Pardon me, Madam,’ cries All-worthy, ‘if I am a little surprized, after what I have heard from Mr. Western——I hope the unhappy young Man hath done nothing to forfeit your good Opinion, if he had ever the Honour to enjoy it.—Perhaps he may have been misrepresented to you, as he was to me. The same Villainy may have injured him every where.—He is no Murderer, I assure you, as he hath been called.’—‘Mr. Allworthy,’ answered Sophia, ‘I have told you my Resolution. I wonder not at what my Father hath told you; but whatever his Apprehensions or Fears have been, if I know my Heart, I have given no Occasion for them; since it hath always been a fixed Principle with me, never to have marry’d without his Consent. This is, I think, the Duty of a Child to a Parent; and this, I hope, nothing could ever have prevailed with me to swerve from. I do not indeed conceive, that the Authority of any Parent can oblige us to marry, in direct Opposition to our Inclinations. To avoid a Force of this Kind, which I had reason to suspect, I left my Father’s House, and sought Protection elsewhere.1 This is the Truth of my Story; and if the World, or my Father, carry my Intentions any farther, my own Conscience will acquit me.’ ‘I hear you, Miss Western,’ cries Allworthy, with Admiration. ‘I admire the Justness of your Sentiments; but surely there is more in this. I am cautious of offending you, young Lady; but am I to look on all which I have hitherto heard or seen, as a Dream only? And have you suffered so much Cruelty from your Father on the Account of a Man to whom you have been always absolutely indifferent?’ ‘I beg, Mr. Allworthy,’ answered Sophia, ‘you will not insist on my Reasons;—Yes, I have suffered indeed: I will not, Mr. Allworthy, conceal—I will be very sincere with you—I own I had a great Opinion of Mr. Jones—I believe—I know I have suffered for my Opinion—I have been treated cruelly by my Aunt, as well as by my Father; but that is now past—I beg I may not be farther press’d; for whatever hath been, my Resolution is now fixed. Your Nephew, Sir, hath many Virtues—he hath great Virtues, Mr. Allworthy. I question not but he will do you Honour in the World, and make you happy.’—‘I wish I could make him so, Madam,’ replied All-worthy; ‘but that I am convinced is only in your Power. It is that Conviction which hath made me so earnest a Solicitor in his Favour.’ ‘You are deceived; indeed, Sir, you are deceived,’ said Sophia—‘I hope not by him—It is sufficient to have deceived me. Mr. Allworthy, I must insist on being prest no farther on this Subject.—I should be sorry—Nay, I will not injure him in your Favour. I wish Mr. Jones very well. I sincerely wish him well; and I repeat it again to you, whatever Demerit he may have to me, I am certain he hath many good Qualities. I do not disown my former Thoughts; but nothing can ever recall them. At present there is not a Man upon Earth whom I would more resolutely reject than Mr. Jones; nor would the Addresses of Mr. Blifil himself be less agreeable to me.’
The History of Tom Jones (Penguin Classics) Page 107
