History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

by Henry Fielding

  Chapter x.

  The consequence of the preceding visit.

  Mr Fitzpatrick having received the letter before mentioned from MrsWestern, and being by that means acquainted with the place to whichhis wife was retired, returned directly to Bath, and thence the dayafter set forward to London.

  The reader hath been already often informed of the jealous temper ofthis gentleman. He may likewise be pleased to remember the suspicionwhich he had conceived of Jones at Upton, upon his finding him in theroom with Mrs Waters; and, though sufficient reasons had afterwardsappeared entirely to clear up that suspicion, yet now the reading sohandsome a character of Mr Jones from his wife, caused him to reflectthat she likewise was in the inn at the same time, and jumbledtogether such a confusion of circumstances in a head which wasnaturally none of the clearest, that the whole produced thatgreen-eyed monster mentioned by Shakespear in his tragedy of Othello.

  And now, as he was enquiring in the street after his wife, and hadjust received directions to the door, unfortunately Mr Jones wasissuing from it.

  Fitzpatrick did not yet recollect the face of Jones; however, seeing ayoung well-dressed fellow coming from his wife, he made directly up tohim, and asked him what he had been doing in that house? "for I amsure," said he, "you must have been in it, as I saw you come out ofit."

  Jones answered very modestly, "That he had been visiting a ladythere." To which Fitzpatrick replied, "What business have you with thelady?" Upon which Jones, who now perfectly remembered the voice,features, and indeed coat, of the gentleman, cried out----"Ha, my goodfriend! give me your hand; I hope there is no ill blood remainingbetween us, upon a small mistake which happened so long ago."

  "Upon my soul, sir," said Fitzpatrick, "I don't know your name noryour face." "Indeed, sir," said Jones, "neither have I the pleasure ofknowing your name, but your face I very well remember to have seenbefore at Upton, where a foolish quarrel happened between us, which,if it is not made up yet, we will now make up over a bottle."

  "At Upton!" cried the other;----"Ha! upon my soul, I believe your nameis Jones?" "Indeed," answered he, "it is."--"O! upon my soul," criesFitzpatrick, "you are the very man I wanted to meet.--Upon my soul Iwill drink a bottle with you presently; but first I will give you agreat knock over the pate. There is for you, you rascal. Upon my soul,if you do not give me satisfaction for that blow, I will give youanother." And then, drawing his sword, put himself in a posture ofdefence, which was the only science he understood.

  Jones was a little staggered by the blow, which came somewhatunexpectedly; but presently recovering himself he also drew, andthough he understood nothing of fencing, prest on so boldly uponFitzpatrick, that he beat down his guard, and sheathed one half of hissword in the body of the said gentleman, who had no sooner received itthan he stept backwards, dropped the point of his sword, and leaningupon it, cried, "I have satisfaction enough: I am a dead man."

  "I hope not," cries Jones, "but whatever be the consequence, you mustbe sensible you have drawn it upon yourself." At this instant a numberof fellows rushed in and seized Jones, who told them he should make noresistance, and begged some of them at least would take care of thewounded gentleman.

  "Ay," cries one of the fellows, "the wounded gentleman will be takencare enough of; for I suppose he hath not many hours to live. As foryou, sir, you have a month at least good yet." "D--n me, Jack," saidanother, "he hath prevented his voyage; he's bound to another portnow;" and many other such jests was our poor Jones made the subject ofby these fellows, who were indeed the gang employed by Lord Fellamar,and had dogged him into the house of Mrs Fitzpatrick, waiting for himat the corner of the street when this unfortunate accident happened.

  The officer who commanded this gang very wisely concluded that hisbusiness was now to deliver his prisoner into the hands of the civilmagistrate. He ordered him, therefore, to be carried to apublic-house, where, having sent for a constable, he delivered him tohis custody.

  The constable, seeing Mr Jones very well drest, and hearing that theaccident had happened in a duel, treated his prisoner with greatcivility, and at his request dispatched a messenger to enquire afterthe wounded gentleman, who was now at a tavern under the surgeon'shands. The report brought back was, that the wound was certainlymortal, and there were no hopes of life. Upon which the constableinformed Jones that he must go before a justice. He answered,"Wherever you please; I am indifferent as to what happens to me; forthough I am convinced I am not guilty of murder in the eye of the law,yet the weight of blood I find intolerable upon my mind."

  Jones was now conducted before the justice, where the surgeon whodressed Mr Fitzpatrick appeared, and deposed that he believed thewound to be mortal; upon which the prisoner was committed to theGatehouse. It was very late at night, so that Jones would not send forPartridge till the next morning; and, as he never shut his eyes tillseven, so it was near twelve before the poor fellow, who was greatlyfrightened at not hearing from his master so long, received a messagewhich almost deprived him of his being when he heard it.

  He went to the Gatehouse with trembling knees and a beating heart, andwas no sooner arrived in the presence of Jones than he lamented themisfortune that had befallen him with many tears, looking all thewhile frequently about him in great terror; for as the news nowarrived that Mr Fitzpatrick was dead, the poor fellow apprehendedevery minute that his ghost would enter the room. At last he deliveredhim a letter, which he had like to have forgot, and which came fromSophia by the hands of Black George.

  Jones presently dispatched every one out of the room, and, havingeagerly broke open the letter, read as follows:--

  "You owe the hearing from me again to an accident which I own surprizes me. My aunt hath just now shown me a letter from you to Lady Bellaston, which contains a proposal of marriage. I am convinced it is your own hand; and what more surprizes me is, that it is dated at the very time when you would have me imagine you was under such concern on my account.--I leave you to comment on this fact. All I desire is, that your name may never more be mentioned to

  "S. W."

  Of the present situation of Mr Jones's mind, and of the pangs withwhich he was now tormented, we cannot give the reader a better ideathan by saying, his misery was such that even Thwackum would almosthave pitied him. But, bad as it is, we shall at present leave him init, as his good genius (if he really had any) seems to have done. Andhere we put an end to the sixteenth book of our history.

  BOOK XVII.

  CONTAINING THREE DAYS.