History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

  Chapter vii.

  Continuation of the history.

  Mrs Waters remaining a few moments silent, Mr Allworthy could notrefrain from saying, "I am sorry, madam, to perceive, by what I havesince heard, that you have made so very ill a use----" "Mr Allworthy,"says she, interrupting him, "I know I have faults, but ingratitude toyou is not one of them. I never can nor shall forget your goodness,which I own I have very little deserved; but be pleased to wave allupbraiding me at present, as I have so important an affair tocommunicate to you concerning this young man, to whom you have givenmy maiden name of Jones."

  "Have I then," said Allworthy, "ignorantly punished an innocent man,in the person of him who hath just left us? Was he not the father ofthe child?" "Indeed he was not," said Mrs Waters. "You may be pleasedto remember, sir, I formerly told you, you should one day know; and Iacknowledge myself to have been guilty of a cruel neglect, in nothaving discovered it to you before. Indeed, I little knew hownecessary it was." "Well, madam," said Allworthy, "be pleased toproceed." "You must remember, sir," said she, "a young fellow, whosename was Summer." "Very well," cries Allworthy, "he was the son of aclergyman of great learning and virtue, for whom I had the highestfriendship." "So it appeared, sir," answered she; "for I believe youbred the young man up, and maintained him at the university; where, Ithink, he had finished his studies, when he came to reside at yourhouse; a finer man, I must say, the sun never shone upon; for, besidesthe handsomest person I ever saw, he was so genteel, and had so muchwit and good breeding." "Poor gentleman," said Allworthy, "he wasindeed untimely snatched away; and little did I think he had any sinsof this kind to answer for; for I plainly perceive you are going totell me he was the father of your child."

  "Indeed, sir," answered she, "he was not." "How!" said Allworthy, "towhat then tends all this preface?" "To a story," said she, "which I amconcerned falls to my lot to unfold to you. O, sir! prepare to hearsomething which will surprize you, will grieve you." "Speak," saidAllworthy, "I am conscious of no crime, and cannot be afraid to hear.""Sir," said she, "that Mr Summer, the son of your friend, educated atyour expense, who, after living a year in the house as if he had beenyour own son, died there of the small-pox, was tenderly lamented byyou, and buried as if he had been your own; that Summer, sir, was thefather of this child." "How!" said Allworthy; "you contradictyourself." "That I do not," answered she; "he was indeed the father ofthis child, but not by me." "Take care, madam," said Allworthy, "donot, to shun the imputation of any crime, be guilty of falshood.Remember there is One from whom you can conceal nothing, and beforewhose tribunal falshood will only aggravate your guilt." "Indeed,sir," says she, "I am not his mother; nor would I now think myself sofor the world." "I know your reason," said Allworthy, "and shallrejoice as much as you to find it otherwise; yet you must remember,you yourself confest it before me." "So far what I confest," said she,"was true, that these hands conveyed the infant to your bed; conveyedit thither at the command of its mother; at her commands I afterwardsowned it, and thought myself, by her generosity, nobly rewarded, bothfor my secrecy and my shame." "Who could this woman be?" saidAllworthy. "Indeed, I tremble to name her," answered Mrs Waters. "Byall this preparation I am to guess that she was a relation of mine,"cried he. "Indeed she was a near one." At which words Allworthystarted, and she continued--"You had a sister, sir." "A sister!"repeated he, looking aghast.--"As there is truth in heaven," criesshe, "your sister was the mother of that child you found between yoursheets." "Can it be possible?" cries he, "Good heavens!" "Havepatience, sir," said Mrs Waters, "and I will unfold to you the wholestory. Just after your departure for London, Miss Bridget came one dayto the house of my mother. She was pleased to say she had heard anextraordinary character of me, for my learning and superiorunderstanding to all the young women there, so she was pleased to say.She then bid me come to her to the great house; where, when Iattended, she employed me to read to her. She expressed greatsatisfaction in my reading, shewed great kindness to me, and made memany presents. At last she began to catechise me on the subject ofsecrecy, to which I gave her such satisfactory answers, that, at last,having locked the door of her room, she took me into her closet, andthen locking that door likewise, she said she should convince me ofthe vast reliance she had on my integrity, by communicating a secretin which her honour, and consequently her life, was concerned. Shethen stopt, and after a silence of a few minutes, during which sheoften wiped her eyes, she enquired of me if I thought my mother mightsafely be confided in. I answered, I would stake my life on herfidelity. She then imparted to me the great secret which laboured inher breast, and which, I believe, was delivered with more pains thanshe afterwards suffered in child-birth. It was then contrived that mymother and myself only should attend at the time, and that Mrs Wilkinsshould be sent out of the way, as she accordingly was, to the veryfurthest part of Dorsetshire, to enquire the character of a servant;for the lady had turned away her own maid near three months before;during all which time I officiated about her person upon trial, as shesaid, though, as she afterwards declared, I was not sufficiently handyfor the place. This, and many other such things which she used to sayof me, were all thrown out to prevent any suspicion which Wilkinsmight hereafter have, when I was to own the child; for she thought itcould never be believed she would venture to hurt a young woman withwhom she had intrusted such a secret. You may be assured, sir, I waswell paid for all these affronts, which, together with being informedwith the occasion of them, very well contented me. Indeed, the ladyhad a greater suspicion of Mrs Wilkins than of any other person; notthat she had the least aversion to the gentlewoman, but she thoughther incapable of keeping a secret, especially from you, sir; for Ihave often heard Miss Bridget say, that, if Mrs Wilkins had committeda murder, she believed she would acquaint you with it. At last theexpected day came, and Mrs Wilkins, who had been kept a week inreadiness, and put off from time to time, upon some pretence or other,that she might not return too soon, was dispatched. Then the child wasborn, in the presence only of myself and my mother, and was by mymother conveyed to her own house, where it was privately kept by hertill the evening of your return, when I, by the command of MissBridget, conveyed it into the bed where you found it. And allsuspicions were afterwards laid asleep by the artful conduct of yoursister, in pretending ill-will to the boy, and that any regard sheshewed him was out of meer complacence to you."

  Mrs Waters then made many protestations of the truth of this story,and concluded by saying, "Thus, sir, you have at last discovered yournephew; for so I am sure you will hereafter think him, and I questionnot but he will be both an honour and a comfort to you under thatappellation."

  "I need not, madam," said Allworthy, "express my astonishment at whatyou have told me; and yet surely you would not, and could not, haveput together so many circumstances to evidence an untruth. I confess Irecollect some passages relating to that Summer, which formerly gaveme a conceit that my sister had some liking to him. I mentioned it toher; for I had such a regard to the young man, as well on his ownaccount as on his father's, that I should willingly have consented toa match between them; but she exprest the highest disdain of my unkindsuspicion, as she called it; so that I never spoke more on thesubject. Good heavens! Well! the Lord disposeth all things.--Yet sureit was a most unjustifiable conduct in my sister to carry this secretwith her out of the world." "I promise you, sir," said Mrs Waters,"she always profest a contrary intention, and frequently told me sheintended one day to communicate it to you. She said, indeed, she washighly rejoiced that her plot had succeeded so well, and that you hadof your own accord taken such a fancy to the child, that it was yetunnecessary to make any express declaration. Oh! sir, had that ladylived to have seen this poor young man turned like a vagabond fromyour house: nay, sir, could she have lived to hear that you hadyourself employed a lawyer to prosecute him for a murder of which hewas not guilty----Forgive me, Mr Allworthy, I must say it wasunkind.--Indeed, you have been abused, he never deserved it of you.""Indeed, madam," said Allworthy, "I have been ab
used by the person,whoever he was, that told you so." "Nay, sir," said she, "I would notbe mistaken, I did not presume to say you were guilty of any wrong.The gentleman who came to me proposed no such matter; he only said,taking me for Mr Fitzpatrick's wife, that, if Mr Jones had murdered myhusband, I should be assisted with any money I wanted to carry on theprosecution, by a very worthy gentleman, who, he said, was wellapprized what a villain I had to deal with. It was by this man I foundout who Mr Jones was; and this man, whose name is Dowling, Mr Jonestells me is your steward. I discovered his name by a very oddaccident; for he himself refused to tell it me; but Partridge, who methim at my lodgings the second time he came, knew him formerly atSalisbury."

  "And did this Mr Dowling," says Allworthy, with great astonishmentin his countenance, "tell you that I would assist in theprosecution?"--"No, sir," answered she, "I will not charge himwrongfully. He said I should be assisted, but he mentioned no name.Yet you must pardon me, sir, if from circumstances I thought it couldbe no other."--"Indeed, madam," says Allworthy, "from circumstances Iam too well convinced it was another. Good Heaven! by what wonderfulmeans is the blackest and deepest villany sometimes discovered!--ShallI beg you, madam, to stay till the person you have mentioned comes,for I expect him every minute? nay, he may be, perhaps, already in thehouse."

  Allworthy then stept to the door, in order to call a servant, when incame, not Mr Dowling, but the gentleman who will be seen in the nextchapter.