History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

  Chapter ix.

  What happened to Mr Jones in the prison.

  Mr Jones passed about twenty-four melancholy hours by himself, unlesswhen relieved by the company of Partridge, before Mr Nightingalereturned; not that this worthy young man had deserted or forgot hisfriend; for, indeed, he had been much the greatest part of the timeemployed in his service.

  He had heard, upon enquiry, that the only persons who had seen thebeginning of the unfortunate rencounter were a crew belonging to aman-of-war which then lay at Deptford. To Deptford therefore he wentin search of this crew, where he was informed that the men he soughtafter were all gone ashore. He then traced them from place to place,till at last he found two of them drinking together, with a thirdperson, at a hedge-tavern near Aldersgate.

  Nightingale desired to speak with Jones by himself (for Partridge wasin the room when he came in). As soon as they were alone, Nightingale,taking Jones by the hand, cried, "Come, my brave friend, be not toomuch dejected at what I am going to tell you----I am sorry I am themessenger of bad news; but I think it my duty to tell you." "I guessalready what that bad news is," cries Jones. "The poor gentleman thenis dead."--"I hope not," answered Nightingale. "He was alive thismorning; though I will not flatter you; I fear, from the accounts Icould get, that his wound is mortal. But if the affair be exactly asyou told it, your own remorse would be all you would have reason toapprehend, let what would happen; but forgive me, my dear Tom, if Ientreat you to make the worst of your story to your friends. If youdisguise anything to us, you will only be an enemy to yourself."

  "What reason, my dear Jack, have I ever given you," said Jones, "tostab me with so cruel a suspicion?" "Have patience," criesNightingale, "and I will tell you all. After the most diligent enquiryI could make, I at last met with two of the fellows who were presentat this unhappy accident, and I am sorry to say, they do not relatethe story so much in your favour as you yourself have told it." "Why,what do they say?" cries Jones. "Indeed what I am sorry to repeat, asI am afraid of the consequence of it to you. They say that they wereat too great a distance to overhear any words that passed between you:but they both agree that the first blow was given by you." "Then, uponmy soul," answered Jones, "they injure me. He not only struck mefirst, but struck me without the least provocation. What should inducethose villains to accuse me falsely?" "Nay, that I cannot guess," saidNightingale, "and if you yourself, and I, who am so heartily yourfriend, cannot conceive a reason why they should belie you, whatreason will an indifferent court of justice be able to assign why theyshould not believe them? I repeated the question to them severaltimes, and so did another gentleman who was present, who, I believe,is a seafaring man, and who really acted a very friendly part by you;for he begged them often to consider that there was the life of a manin the case; and asked them over and over, if they were certain; towhich they both answered, that they were, and would abide by theirevidence upon oath. For heaven's sake, my dear friend, recollectyourself; for, if this should appear to be the fact, it will be yourbusiness to think in time of making the best of your interest. I wouldnot shock you; but you know, I believe, the severity of the law,whatever verbal provocations may have been given you." "Alas! myfriend," cries Jones, "what interest hath such a wretch as I? Besides,do you think I would even wish to live with the reputation of amurderer? If I had any friends (as, alas! I have none), could I havethe confidence to solicit them to speak in the behalf of a mancondemned for the blackest crime in human nature? Believe me, I haveno such hope; but I have some reliance on a throne still greatlysuperior; which will, I am certain, afford me all the protection Imerit."

  He then concluded with many solemn and vehement protestations of thetruth of what he had at first asserted.

  The faith of Nightingale was now again staggered, and began to inclineto credit his friend, when Mrs Miller appeared, and made a sorrowfulreport of the success of her embassy; which when Jones had heard, hecried out most heroically, "Well, my friend, I am now indifferent asto what shall happen, at least with regard to my life; and if it bethe will of Heaven that I shall make an atonement with that for theblood I have spilt, I hope the Divine Goodness will one day suffer myhonour to be cleared, and that the words of a dying man, at least,will be believed, so far as to justify his character."

  A very mournful scene now past between the prisoner and his friends,at which, as few readers would have been pleased to be present, sofew, I believe, will desire to hear it particularly related. We will,therefore, pass on to the entrance of the turnkey, who acquaintedJones that there was a lady without who desired to speak with him whenhe was at leisure.

  Jones declared his surprize at this message. He said, "He knew no ladyin the world whom he could possibly expect to see there." However, ashe saw no reason to decline seeing any person, Mrs Miller and MrNightingale presently took their leave, and he gave orders to have thelady admitted.

  If Jones was surprized at the news of a visit from a lady, how greatlywas he astonished when he discovered this lady to be no other than MrsWaters! In this astonishment then we shall leave him awhile, in orderto cure the surprize of the reader, who will likewise, probably, not alittle wonder at the arrival of this lady.

  Who this Mrs Waters was, the reader pretty well knows; what she was,he must be perfectly satisfied. He will therefore be pleased toremember that this lady departed from Upton in the same coach with MrFitzpatrick and the other Irish gentleman, and in their companytravelled to Bath.

  Now there was a certain office in the gift of Mr Fitzpatrick at thattime vacant, namely that of a wife: for the lady who had lately filledthat office had resigned, or at least deserted her duty. MrFitzpatrick therefore, having thoroughly examined Mrs Waters on theroad, found her extremely fit for the place, which, on their arrivalat Bath, he presently conferred upon her, and she without any scrupleaccepted. As husband and wife this gentleman and lady continuedtogether all the time they stayed at Bath, and as husband and wifethey arrived together in town.

  Whether Mr Fitzpatrick was so wise a man as not to part with one goodthing till he had secured another, which he had at present only aprospect of regaining; or whether Mrs Waters had so well dischargedher office, that he intended still to retain her as principal, and tomake his wife (as is often the case) only her deputy, I will not say;but certain it is, he never mentioned his wife to her, nevercommunicated to her the letter given him by Mrs Western, nor ever oncehinted his purpose of repossessing his wife; much less did he evermention the name of Jones. For, though he intended to fight with himwherever he met him, he did not imitate those prudent persons whothink a wife, a mother, a sister, or sometimes a whole family, thesafest seconds on these occasions. The first account therefore whichshe had of all this was delivered to her from his lips, after he wasbrought home from the tavern where his wound had been drest.

  As Mr Fitzpatrick, however, had not the clearest way of telling astory at any time, and was now, perhaps, a little more confused thanusual, it was some time before she discovered that the gentleman whohad given him this wound was the very same person from whom her hearthad received a wound, which, though not of a mortal kind, was yet sodeep that it had left a considerable scar behind it. But no sooner wasshe acquainted that Mr Jones himself was the man who had beencommitted to the Gatehouse for this supposed murder, than she took thefirst opportunity of committing Mr Fitzpatrick to the care of hisnurse, and hastened away to visit the conqueror.

  She now entered the room with an air of gaiety, which received animmediate check from the melancholy aspect of poor Jones, who startedand blessed himself when he saw her. Upon which she said, "Nay, I donot wonder at your surprize; I believe you did not expect to see me;for few gentlemen are troubled here with visits from any lady, unlessa wife. You see the power you have over me, Mr Jones. Indeed, I littlethought, when we parted at Upton, that our next meeting would havebeen in such a place." "Indeed, madam," says Jones, "I must look uponthis visit as kind; few will follow the miserable, especially to suchdismal habitations." "I protest, Mr
Jones," says she, "I can hardlypersuade myself you are the same agreeable fellow I saw at Upton. Why,your face is more miserable than any dungeon in the universe. What canbe the matter with you?" "I thought, madam," said Jones, "as you knewof my being here, you knew the unhappy reason." "Pugh!" says she, "youhave pinked a man in a duel, that's all." Jones exprest someindignation at this levity, and spoke with the utmost contrition forwhat had happened. To which she answered, "Well, then, sir, if youtake it so much to heart, I will relieve you; the gentleman is notdead, and, I am pretty confident, is in no danger of dying. Thesurgeon, indeed, who first dressed him was a young fellow, and seemeddesirous of representing his case to be as bad as possible, that hemight have the more honour from curing him: but the king's surgeonhath seen him since, and says, unless from a fever, of which there areat present no symptoms, he apprehends not the least danger of life."Jones shewed great satisfaction in his countenance at this report;upon which she affirmed the truth of it, adding, "By the mostextraordinary accident in the world I lodge at the same house; andhave seen the gentleman, and I promise you he doth you justice, andsays, whatever be the consequence, that he was entirely the aggressor,and that you was not in the least to blame."

  Jones expressed the utmost satisfaction at the account which MrsWaters brought him. He then informed her of many things which she wellknew before, as who Mr Fitzpatrick was, the occasion of hisresentment, &c. He likewise told her several facts of which she wasignorant, as the adventure of the muff, and other particulars,concealing only the name of Sophia. He then lamented the follies andvices of which he had been guilty; every one of which, he said, hadbeen attended with such ill consequences, that he should beunpardonable if he did not take warning, and quit those viciouscourses for the future. He lastly concluded with assuring her of hisresolution to sin no more, lest a worse thing should happen to him.

  Mrs Waters with great pleasantry ridiculed all this, as the effects oflow spirits and confinement. She repeated some witticisms about thedevil when he was sick, and told him, "She doubted not but shortly tosee him at liberty, and as lively a fellow as ever; and then," saysshe, "I don't question but your conscience will be safely delivered ofall these qualms that it is now so sick in breeding."

  Many more things of this kind she uttered, some of which it would doher no great honour, in the opinion of some readers, to remember; norare we quite certain but that the answers made by Jones would betreated with ridicule by others. We shall therefore suppress the restof this conversation, and only observe that it ended at last withperfect innocence, and much more to the satisfaction of Jones than ofthe lady; for the former was greatly transported with the news she hadbrought him; but the latter was not altogether so pleased with thepenitential behaviour of a man whom she had, at her first interview,conceived a very different opinion of from what she now entertained ofhim.

  Thus the melancholy occasioned by the report of Mr Nightingale waspretty well effaced; but the dejection into which Mrs Miller hadthrown him still continued. The account she gave so well tallied withthe words of Sophia herself in her letter, that he made not the leastdoubt but that she had disclosed his letter to her aunt, and had takena fixed resolution to abandon him. The torments this thought gave himwere to be equalled only by a piece of news which fortune had yet instore for him, and which we shall communicate in the second chapter ofthe ensuing book.

  BOOK XVIII.

  CONTAINING ABOUT SIX DAYS.