History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

  Chapter ix.

  A further continuation.

  Allworthy took an opportunity, whilst he was in the chair, of readingthe letter from Jones to Sophia, which Western delivered him; andthere were some expressions in it concerning himself which drew tearsfrom his eyes. At length he arrived at Mr Western's, and wasintroduced to Sophia.

  When the first ceremonies were past, and the gentleman and lady hadtaken their chairs, a silence of some minutes ensued; during which thelatter, who had been prepared for the visit by her father, sat playingwith her fan, and had every mark of confusion both in her countenanceand behaviour. At length Allworthy, who was himself a littledisconcerted, began thus: "I am afraid, Miss Western, my family hathbeen the occasion of giving you some uneasiness; to which, I fear, Ihave innocently become more instrumental than I intended. Be assured,madam, had I at first known how disagreeable the proposals had been, Ishould not have suffered you to have been so long persecuted. I hope,therefore, you will not think the design of this visit is to troubleyou with any further solicitations of that kind, but entirely torelieve you from them."

  "Sir," said Sophia, with a little modest hesitation, "this behaviouris most kind and generous, and such as I could expect only from MrAllworthy; but as you have been so kind to mention this matter, youwill pardon me for saying it hath, indeed, given me great uneasiness,and hath been the occasion of my suffering much cruel treatment froma father who was, till that unhappy affair, the tenderest and fondestof all parents. I am convinced, sir, you are too good and generous toresent my refusal of your nephew. Our inclinations are not in our ownpower; and whatever may be his merit, I cannot force them in hisfavour." "I assure you, most amiable young lady," said Allworthy, "Iam capable of no such resentment, had the person been my own son, andhad I entertained the highest esteem for him. For you say truly,madam, we cannot force our inclinations, much less can they bedirected by another." "Oh! sir," answered Sophia, "every word youspeak proves you deserve that good, that great, that benevolentcharacter the whole world allows you. I assure you, sir, nothing lessthan the certain prospect of future misery could have made me resistthe commands of my father." "I sincerely believe you, madam," repliedAllworthy, "and I heartily congratulate you on your prudentforesight, since by so justifiable a resistance you have avoidedmisery indeed!" "You speak now, Mr Allworthy," cries she, "with adelicacy which few men are capable of feeling! but surely, in myopinion, to lead our lives with one to whom we are indifferent mustbe a state of wretchedness.----Perhaps that wretchedness would beeven increased by a sense of the merits of an object to whom wecannot give our affections. If I had married Mr Blifil--" "Pardon myinterrupting you, madam," answered Allworthy, "but I cannot bear thesupposition.--Believe me, Miss Western, I rejoice from my heart, Irejoice in your escape.--I have discovered the wretch for whom youhave suffered all this cruel violence from your father to be avillain." "How, sir!" cries Sophia--"you must believe this surprizesme."--"It hath surprized me, madam," answered Allworthy, "and so itwill the world.----But I have acquainted you with the real truth.""Nothing but truth," says Sophia, "can, I am convinced, come from thelips of Mr Allworthy.----Yet, sir, such sudden, such unexpectednews.----Discovered, you say----may villany be ever so!"--"You willsoon enough hear the story," cries Allworthy;--"at present let us notmention so detested a name.--I have another matter of a very seriousnature to propose.--O! Miss Western, I know your vast worth, nor canI so easily part with the ambition of being allied to it.--I have anear relation, madam, a young man whose character is, I am convinced,the very opposite to that of this wretch, and whose fortune I willmake equal to what his was to have been. Could I, madam, hope youwould admit a visit from him?" Sophia, after a minute's 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 suchproposals from any person. My only desire is to be restored to theaffection 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 knowyou, have experienced, do not, the very moment when you have releasedme from one persecution, do not engage me in another as miserable andas fruitless." "Indeed, Miss Western," replied Allworthy, "I amcapable of no such conduct; and if this be your resolution, he mustsubmit to the disappointment, whatever torments he may suffer underit." "I must smile now, Mr Allworthy," answered Sophia, "when youmention the torments of a man whom I do not know, and who canconsequently have so little acquaintance with me." "Pardon me, dearyoung lady," cries Allworthy, "I begin now to be afraid he hath hadtoo much acquaintance for the repose of his future days; since, ifever man was capable of a sincere, violent, and noble passion, such,I am convinced, is my unhappy nephew's for Miss Western." "A nephewof your's, Mr Allworthy!" answered Sophia. "It is surely strange. Inever heard of him before." "Indeed, madam," cries Allworthy, "it isonly the circumstance of his being my nephew to which you are astranger, 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 shallalways own him; nor am I ashamed of owning him. I am much moreashamed of my past behaviour to him; but I was as ignorant of hismerit as of his birth. Indeed, Miss Western, I have used himcruelly----Indeed I have."--Here the good man wiped his eyes, andafter a short pause proceeded--"I never shall be able to reward himfor his sufferings without your assistance.----Believe me, mostamiable young lady, I must have a great esteem of that offering whichI make to your worth. I know he hath been guilty of faults; but thereis great goodness of heart at the bottom. Believe me, madam, thereis." Here he stopped, seeming to expect an answer, which he presentlyreceived from Sophia, after she had a little recovered herself fromthe hurry of spirits into which so strange and sudden information hadthrown her: "I sincerely wish you joy, sir, of a discovery in whichyou seem to have such satisfaction. I doubt not but you will have allthe comfort you can promise yourself from it. The young gentlemanhath certainly a thousand good qualities, which makes it impossiblehe should not behave well to such an uncle."--"I hope, madam," saidAllworthy, "he hath those good qualities which must make him a goodhusband.--He must, I am sure, be of all men the most abandoned, if alady of your merit should condescend--" "You must pardon me, MrAllworthy," answered Sophia; "I cannot listen to a proposal of thiskind. Mr Jones, I am convinced, hath much merit; but I shall neverreceive Mr Jones as one who is to be my husband--Upon my honour Inever will."--"Pardon me, madam," cries Allworthy, "if I am a littlesurprized, after what I have heard from Mr Western--I hope theunhappy young man hath done nothing to forfeit your good opinion, ifhe had ever the honour to enjoy it.--Perhaps, he may have beenmisrepresented to you, as he was to me. The same villany may haveinjured him everywhere.--He is no murderer, I assure you; as he hathbeen called."--"Mr Allworthy," answered Sophia, "I have told you myresolution. I wonder not at what my father hath told you; but,whatever his apprehensions or fears have been, if I know my heart, Ihave given no occasion for them; since it hath always been a fixedprinciple with me, never to have married without his consent. Thisis, 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 notindeed conceive that the authority of any parent can oblige us tomarry in direct opposition to our inclinations. To avoid a force ofthis kind, which I had reason to suspect, I left my father's house,and sought protection elsewhere. This is the truth of my story; andif the world, or my father, carry my intentions any farther, my ownconscience will acquit me." "I hear you, Miss Western," criesAllworthy, "with admiration. I admire the justness of yoursentiments; but surely there is more in this. I am cautious ofoffending you, young lady; but am I to look on all which I havehitherto heard or seen as a dream only? And have you suffered so muchcruelty from your father on the account of a man to whom you havebeen always absolutely indiffere
nt?" "I beg, Mr Allworthy," answeredSophia, "you will not insist on my reasons;--yes, I have sufferedindeed; I will not, Mr Allworthy, conceal----I will be very sincerewith you--I own I had a great opinion of Mr Jones--I believe--I knowI have suffered for my opinion--I have been treated cruelly by myaunt, as well as by my father; but that is now past--I beg I may notbe farther pressed; for, whatever hath been, my resolution is nowfixed. Your nephew, sir, hath many virtues--he hath great virtues, MrAllworthy. I question not but he will do you honour in the world, andmake you happy."--"I wish I could make him so, madam," repliedAllworthy; "but that I am convinced is only in your power. It is thatconviction which hath made me so earnest a solicitor in his favour.""You are deceived indeed, sir; you are deceived," said Sophia. "Ihope not by him. It is sufficient to have deceived me. Mr Allworthy,I must insist on being pressed no farther on this subject. I shouldbe sorry--nay, I will not injure him in your favour. I wish Mr Jonesvery 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 goodqualities. I do not disown my former thoughts; but nothing can everrecal them. At present there is not a man upon earth whom I wouldmore resolutely reject than Mr Jones; nor would the addresses of MrBlifil himself be less agreeable to me."

  Western had been long impatient for the event of this conference, andwas just now arrived at the door to listen; when, having heard thelast sentiments of his daughter's heart, he lost all temper, and,bursting open the door in a rage, cried out--"It is a lie! It is ad--n'd lie! It is all owing to that d--n'd rascal Jones; and if shecould get at un, she'd ha un any hour of the day." Here Allworthyinterposed, and addressing himself to the squire with some anger inhis look, he said, "Mr Western, you have not kept your word with me.You promised to abstain from all violence."--"Why, so I did," criesWestern, "as long as it was possible; but to hear a wench telling suchconfounded lies----Zounds! doth she think, if she can make vools ofother volk, she can make one of me?--No, no, I know her better thanthee dost." "I am sorry to tell you, sir," answered Allworthy, "itdoth not appear, by your behaviour to this young lady, that you knowher at all. I ask pardon for what I say: but I think our intimacy,your own desires, and the occasion justify me. She is your daughter,Mr Western, and I think she doth honour to your name. If I was capableof envy, I should sooner envy you on this account than any other manwhatever."--"Odrabbit it!" cries the squire, "I wish she was thine,with all my heart--wouldst soon be glad to be rid of the trouble o'her." "Indeed, my good friend," answered Allworthy, "you yourself arethe cause of all the trouble you complain of. Place that confidence inthe young lady which she so well deserves, and I am certain you willbe the happiest father on earth."--"I confidence in her?" cries thesquire. "'Sblood! what confidence can I place in her, when she won'tdo as I would ha' her? Let her gi' but her consent to marry as I wouldha' her, and I'll place as much confidence in her as wouldst ha'me."--"You have no right, neighbour," answered Allworthy, "to insiston any such consent. A negative voice your daughter allows you, andGod and nature have thought proper to allow you no more."--"A negativevoice!" cries the squire, "Ay! ay! I'll show you what a negative voiceI ha.--Go along, go into your chamber, go, you stubborn----." "Indeed,Mr Western," said Allworthy, "indeed you use her cruelly--I cannotbear to see this--you shall, you must behave to her in a kindermanner. She deserves the best of treatment." "Yes, yes," said thesquire, "I know what she deserves: now she's gone, I'll shew you whatshe deserves. See here, sir, here is a letter from my cousin, my LadyBellaston, in which she is so kind to gi' me to understand that thefellow is got out of prison again; and here she advises me to take allthe care I can o' the wench. Odzookers! neighbour Allworthy, you don'tknow what it is to govern a daughter."

  The squire ended his speech with some compliments to his own sagacity;and then Allworthy, after a formal preface, acquainted him with thewhole discovery which he had made concerning Jones, with his anger toBlifil, and with every particular which hath been disclosed to thereader in the preceding chapters.

  Men over-violent in their dispositions are, for the most part, aschangeable in them. No sooner then was Western informed of MrAllworthy's intention to make Jones his heir, than he joined heartilywith the uncle in every commendation of the nephew, and became aseager for her marriage with Jones as he had before been to couple herto Blifil.

  Here Mr Allworthy was again forced to interpose, and to relate whathad passed between him and Sophia, at which he testified greatsurprize.

  The squire was silent a moment, and looked wild with astonishment atthis account.--At last he cried out, "Why, what can be the meaning ofthis, neighbour Allworthy? Vond o'un she was, that I'll be swornto.----Odzookers! I have hit o't. As sure as a gun I have hit o' thevery right o't. It's all along o' zister. The girl hath got ahankering after this son of a whore of a lord. I vound 'em together atmy cousin my Lady Bellaston's. He hath turned the head o' her, that'scertain--but d--n me if he shall ha her--I'll ha no lords norcourtiers in my vamily."

  Allworthy now made a long speech, in which he repeated his resolutionto avoid all violent measures, and very earnestly recommended gentlemethods to Mr Western, as those by which he might be assured ofsucceeding best with his daughter. He then took his leave, andreturned back to Mrs Miller, but was forced to comply with the earnestentreaties of the squire, in promising to bring Mr Jones to visit himthat afternoon, that he might, as he said, "make all matters up withthe young gentleman." At Mr Allworthy's departure, Western promised tofollow his advice in his behaviour to Sophia, saying, "I don't knowhow 'tis, but d--n me, Allworthy, if you don't make me always do justas you please; and yet I have as good an estate as you, and am in thecommission of the peace as well as yourself."

  Chapter x.

  Wherein the history begins to draw towards a conclusion.

  When Allworthy returned to his lodgings, he heard Mr Jones was justarrived before him. He hurried therefore instantly into an emptychamber, whither he ordered Mr Jones to be brought to him alone.

  It is impossible to conceive a more tender or moving scene than themeeting between the uncle and nephew (for Mrs Waters, as the readermay well suppose, had at her last visit discovered to him the secretof his birth). The first agonies of joy which were felt on both sidesare indeed beyond my power to describe: I shall not therefore attemptit. After Allworthy had raised Jones from his feet, where he hadprostrated himself, and received him into his arms, "O my child!" hecried, "how have I been to blame! how have I injured you! What amendscan I ever make you for those unkind, those unjust suspicions which Ihave entertained, and for all the sufferings they have occasioned toyou?" "Am I not now made amends?" cries Jones. "Would not mysufferings, if they had been ten times greater, have been now richlyrepaid? O my dear uncle, this goodness, this tenderness overpowers,unmans, destroys me. I cannot bear the transports which flow so fastupon me. To be again restored to your presence, to your favour; to beonce more thus kindly received by my great, my noble, my generousbenefactor."--"Indeed, child," cries Allworthy, "I have used youcruelly."----He then explained to him all the treachery of Blifil, andagain repeated expressions of the utmost concern, for having beeninduced by that treachery to use him so ill. "O, talk not so!"answered Jones; "indeed, sir, you have used me nobly. The wisest manmight be deceived as you were; and, under such a deception, the bestmust have acted just as you did. Your goodness displayed itself in themidst of your anger, just as it then seemed. I owe everything to thatgoodness, of which I have been most unworthy. Do not put me onself-accusation, by carrying your generous sentiments too far. Alas!sir, I have not been punished more than I have deserved; and it shallbe the whole business of my future life to deserve that happiness younow bestow on me; for, believe me, my dear uncle, my punishment hathnot been thrown away upon me: though I have been a great, I am not ahardened sinner; I thank Heaven, I have had time to reflect on my pastlife, where, though I cannot charge myself with any gross villany, yetI can discern follies and vices more than enough to repent and to beashamed of; follies which have been at
tended with dreadfulconsequences to myself, and have brought me to the brink ofdestruction." "I am rejoiced, my dear child," answered Allworthy, "tohear you talk thus sensibly; for as I am convinced hypocrisy (goodHeaven! how have I been imposed on by it in others!) was never amongyour faults, so I can readily believe all you say. You now see, Tom,to what dangers imprudence alone may subject virtue (for virtue, I amnow convinced, you love in a great degree). Prudence is indeed theduty which we owe to ourselves; and if we will be so much our ownenemies as to neglect it, we are not to wonder if the world isdeficient in discharging their duty to us; for when a man lays thefoundation of his own ruin, others will, I am afraid, be too apt tobuild upon it. You say, however, you have seen your errors, and willreform them. I firmly believe you, my dear child; and therefore, fromthis moment, you shall never be reminded of them by me. Remember themonly yourself so far as for the future to teach you the better toavoid them; but still remember, for your comfort, that there is thisgreat difference between those faults which candor may construe intoimprudence, and those which can be deduced from villany only. Theformer, perhaps, are even more apt to subject a man to ruin; but if hereform, his character will, at length, be totally retrieved; theworld, though not immediately, will in time be reconciled to him; andhe may reflect, not without some mixture of pleasure, on the dangershe hath escaped; but villany, my boy, when once discovered isirretrievable; the stains which this leaves behind, no time will washaway. The censures of mankind will pursue the wretch, their scorn willabash him in publick; and if shame drives him into retirement, he willgo to it with all those terrors with which a weary child, who isafraid of hobgoblins, retreats from company to go to bed alone. Herehis murdered conscience will haunt him.--Repose, like a false friend,will fly from him. Wherever he turns his eyes, horror presents itself;if he looks backward, unavailable repentance treads on his heels; ifforward, incurable despair stares him in the face, till, like acondemned prisoner confined in a dungeon, he detests his presentcondition, and yet dreads the consequence of that hour which is torelieve him from it. Comfort yourself, I say, my child, that this isnot your case; and rejoice with thankfulness to him who hath sufferedyou to see your errors, before they have brought on you thatdestruction to which a persistance in even those errors must have ledyou. You have deserted them; and the prospect now before you is such,that happiness seems in your own power." At these words Jones fetcheda deep sigh; upon which, when Allworthy remonstrated, he said, "Sir, Iwill conceal nothing from you: I fear there is one consequence of myvices I shall never be able to retrieve. O, my dear uncle! I have losta treasure." "You need say no more," answered Allworthy; "I will beexplicit with you; I know what you lament; I have seen the young lady,and have discoursed with her concerning you. This I must insist on, asan earnest of your sincerity in all you have said, and of thestedfastness of your resolution, that you obey me in one instance. Toabide intirely by the determination of the young lady, whether itshall be in your favour or no. She hath already suffered enough fromsolicitations which I hate to think of; she shall owe no furtherconstraint to my family: I know her father will be as ready to tormenther now on your account as he hath formerly been on another's; but Iam determined she shall suffer no more confinement, no more violence,no more uneasy hours." "O, my dear uncle!" answered Jones, "lay, Ibeseech you, some command on me, in which I shall have some merit inobedience. Believe me, sir, the only instance in which I could disobeyyou would be to give an uneasy moment to my Sophia. No, sir, if I amso miserable to have incurred her displeasure beyond all hope offorgiveness, that alone, with the dreadful reflection of causing hermisery, will be sufficient to overpower me. To call Sophia mine is thegreatest, and now the only additional blessing which heaven canbestow; but it is a blessing which I must owe to her alone." "I willnot flatter you, child," cries Allworthy; "I fear your case isdesperate: I never saw stronger marks of an unalterable resolution inany person than appeared in her vehement declarations againstreceiving your addresses; for which, perhaps, you can account betterthan myself." "Oh, sir! I can account too well," answered Jones; "Ihave sinned against her beyond all hope of pardon; and guilty as I am,my guilt unfortunately appears to her in ten times blacker than thereal colours. O, my dear uncle! I find my follies are irretrievable;and all your goodness cannot save me from perdition."

  A servant now acquainted them that Mr Western was below-stairs; forhis eagerness to see Jones could not wait till the afternoon. Uponwhich Jones, whose eyes were full of tears, begged his uncle toentertain Western a few minutes, till he a little recovered himself;to which the good man consented, and, having ordered Mr Western to beshewn into a parlour, went down to him.

  Mrs Miller no sooner heard that Jones was alone (for she had not yetseen him since his release from prison) than she came eagerly into theroom, and, advancing towards Jones, wished him heartily joy of hisnew-found uncle and his happy reconciliation; adding, "I wish I couldgive you joy on another account, my dear child; but anything soinexorable I never saw."

  Jones, with some appearance of surprize, asked her what she meant."Why then," says she, "I have been with your young lady, and haveexplained all matters to her, as they were told to me by my sonNightingale. She can have no longer any doubt about the letter; ofthat I am certain; for I told her my son Nightingale was ready to takehis oath, if she pleased, that it was all his own invention, and theletter of his inditing. I told her the very reason of sending theletter ought to recommend you to her the more, as it was all upon heraccount, and a plain proof that you was resolved to quit all yourprofligacy for the future; that you had never been guilty of a singleinstance of infidelity to her since your seeing her in town: I amafraid I went too far there; but Heaven forgive me! I hope your futurebehaviour will be my justification. I am sure I have said all I can;but all to no purpose. She remains inflexible. She says, she hadforgiven many faults on account of youth; but expressed suchdetestation of the character of a libertine, that she absolutelysilenced me. I often attempted to excuse you; but the justness of heraccusation flew in my face. Upon my honour, she is a lovely woman, andone of the sweetest and most sensible creatures I ever saw. I couldhave almost kissed her for one expression she made use of. It was asentiment worthy of Seneca, or of a bishop. `I once fancied madam.'and she, `I had discovered great goodness of heart in Mr Jones; andfor that I own I had a sincere esteem; but an entire profligacy ofmanners will corrupt the best heart in the world; and all which agood-natured libertine can expect is, that we should mix some grainsof pity with our contempt and abhorrence.' She is an angelic creature,that is the truth on't." "O, Mrs Miller!" answered Jones, "can I bearto think that I have lost such an angel?" "Lost! no," cries MrsMiller; "I hope you have not lost her yet. Resolve to leave suchvicious courses, and you may yet have hopes, nay, if she would remaininexorable, there is another young lady, a sweet pretty young lady,and a swinging fortune, who is absolutely dying for love of you. Iheard of it this very morning, and I told it to Miss Western; nay, Iwent a little beyond the truth again; for I told her you had refusedher; but indeed I knew you would refuse her. And here I must give youa little comfort; when I mentioned the young lady's name, who is noother than the pretty widow Hunt, I thought she turned pale; but whenI said you had refused her, I will be sworn her face was all overscarlet in an instant; and these were her very words: `I will not denybut that I believe he has some affection for me.'"

  Here the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Western, whocould no longer be kept out of the room even by the authority ofAllworthy himself; though this, as we have often seen, had a wonderfulpower over him.

  Western immediately went up to Jones, crying out, "My old friend Tom,I am glad to see thee with all my heart! all past must be forgotten; Icould not intend any affront to thee, because, as Allworthy hereknows, nay, dost know it thyself, I took thee for another person; andwhere a body means no harm, what signifies a hasty word or two? OneChristian must forget and forgive another." "I hope, sir," said Jones,"I shall never forget the many obligations I have ha
d to you; but asfor any offence towards me, I declare I am an utter stranger." "A't,"says Western, "then give me thy fist; a't as hearty an honest cock asany in the kingdom. Come along with me; I'll carry thee to thymistress this moment." Here Allworthy interposed; and the squire beingunable to prevail either with the uncle or nephew, was, after somelitigation, obliged to consent to delay introducing Jones to Sophiatill the afternoon; at which time Allworthy, as well in compassion toJones as in compliance with the eager desires of Western, wasprevailed upon to promise to attend at the tea-table.

  The conversation which now ensued was pleasant enough; and with which,had it happened earlier in our history, we would have entertained ourreader; but as we have now leisure only to attend to what is verymaterial, it shall suffice to say that matters being entirely adjustedas to the afternoon visit Mr Western again returned home.