History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

by Henry Fielding

  Chapter xi.

  In which the reader will be surprized.

  Mr Jones was rather earlier than the time appointed, and earlier thanthe lady; whose arrival was hindered, not only by the distance of theplace where she dined, but by some other cross accidents veryvexatious to one in her situation of mind. He was accordingly showninto the drawing-room, where he had not been many minutes before thedoor opened, and in came----no other than Sophia herself, who had leftthe play before the end of the first act; for this, as we have alreadysaid, being, a new play, at which two large parties met, the one todamn, and the other to applaud, a violent uproar, and an engagementbetween the two parties, had so terrified our heroine, that she wasglad to put herself under the protection of a young gentleman whosafely conveyed her to her chair.

  As Lady Bellaston had acquainted her that she should not be at hometill late, Sophia, expecting to find no one in the room, came hastilyin, and went directly to a glass which almost fronted her, withoutonce looking towards the upper end of the room, where the statue ofJones now stood motionless.---In this glass it was, aftercontemplating her own lovely face, that she first discovered the saidstatue; when, instantly turning about, she perceived the reality ofthe vision: upon which she gave a violent scream, and scarce preservedherself from fainting, till Jones was able to move to her, and supporther in his arms.

  To paint the looks or thoughts of either of these lovers, is beyond mypower. As their sensations, from their mutual silence, may be judgedto have been too big for their own utterance, it cannot be supposedthat I should be able to express them: and the misfortune is, that fewof my readers have been enough in love to feel by their own heartswhat past at this time in theirs.

  After a short pause, Jones, with faultering accents, said--"I see,madam, you are surprized."--"Surprized!" answered she; "Oh heavens!Indeed, I am surprized. I almost doubt whether you are the person youseem."--"Indeed," cries he, "my Sophia, pardon me, madam, for thisonce calling you so, I am that very wretched Jones, whom fortune,after so many disappointments, hath, at last, kindly conducted to you.Oh! my Sophia, did you know the thousand torments I have suffered inthis long, fruitless pursuit."--"Pursuit of whom?" said Sophia, alittle recollecting herself, and assuming a reserved air.--"Can you beso cruel to ask that question?" cries Jones; "Need I say, of you?" "Ofme!" answered Sophia: "Hath Mr Jones, then, any such importantbusiness with me?"--"To some, madam," cries Jones, "this might seem animportant business" (giving her the pocket-book). "I hope, madam, youwill find it of the same value as when it was lost." Sophia took thepocket-book, and was going to speak, when he interrupted herthus:--"Let us not, I beseech you, lose one of these precious momentswhich fortune hath so kindly sent us. O, my Sophia! I have business ofa much superior kind. Thus, on my knees, let me ask your pardon."--"Mypardon!" cries she; "Sure, sir, after what is past, you cannot expect,after what I have heard."--"I scarce know what I say," answered Jones."By heavens! I scarce wish you should pardon me. O my Sophia!henceforth never cast away a thought on such a wretch as I am. If anyremembrance of me should ever intrude to give a moment's uneasiness tothat tender bosom, think of my unworthiness; and let the remembranceof what passed at Upton blot me for ever from your mind."

  Sophia stood trembling all this while. Her face was whiter than snow,and her heart was throbbing through her stays. But, at the mention ofUpton, a blush arose in her cheeks, and her eyes, which before she hadscarce lifted up, were turned upon Jones with a glance of disdain. Heunderstood this silent reproach, and replied to it thus: "O my Sophia!my only love! you cannot hate or despise me more for what happenedthere than I do myself; but yet do me the justice to think that myheart was never unfaithful to you. That had no share in the folly Iwas guilty of; it was even then unalterably yours. Though I despairedof possessing you, nay, almost of ever seeing you more, I doated stillon your charming idea, and could seriously love no other woman. But ifmy heart had not been engaged, she, into whose company I accidentlyfell at that cursed place, was not an object of serious love. Believeme, my angel, I never have seen her from that day to this; and neverintend or desire to see her again." Sophia, in her heart, was veryglad to hear this; but forcing into her face an air of more coldnessthan she had yet assumed, "Why," said she, "Mr Jones, do you take thetrouble to make a defence where you are not accused? If I thought itworth while to accuse you, I have a charge of unpardonable natureindeed."--"What is it, for heaven's sake?" answered Jones, tremblingand pale, expecting to hear of his amour with Lady Bellaston. "Oh,"said she, "how is it possible! can everything noble and everythingbase be lodged together in the same bosom?" Lady Bellaston, and theignominious circumstance of having been kept, rose again in his mind,and stopt his mouth from any reply. "Could I have expected," proceededSophia, "such treatment from you? Nay, from any gentleman, from anyman of honour? To have my name traduced in public; in inns, among themeanest vulgar! to have any little favours that my unguarded heart mayhave too lightly betrayed me to grant, boasted of there! nay, even tohear that you had been forced to fly from my love!"

  Nothing could equal Jones's surprize at these words of Sophia; butyet, not being guilty, he was much less embarrassed how to defendhimself than if she had touched that tender string at which hisconscience had been alarmed. By some examination he presently found,that her supposing him guilty of so shocking an outrage against hislove, and her reputation, was entirely owing to Partridge's talk atthe inns before landlords and servants; for Sophia confessed to him itwas from them that she received her intelligence. He had no very greatdifficulty to make her believe that he was entirely innocent of anoffence so foreign to his character; but she had a great deal tohinder him from going instantly home, and putting Partridge to death,which he more than once swore he would do. This point being clearedup, they soon found themselves so well pleased with each other, thatJones quite forgot he had begun the conversation with conjuring her togive up all thoughts of him; and she was in a temper to have given earto a petition of a very different nature; for before they were awarethey had both gone so far, that he let fall some words that soundedlike a proposal of marriage. To which she replied, "That, did not herduty to her father forbid her to follow her own inclinations, ruinwith him would be more welcome to her than the most affluent fortunewith another man." At the mention of the word ruin, he started, letdrop her hand, which he had held for some time, and striking hisbreast with his own, cried out, "Oh, Sophia! can I then ruin thee? No;by heavens, no! I never will act so base a part. Dearest Sophia,whatever it costs me, I will renounce you; I will give you up; I willtear all such hopes from my heart as are inconsistent with your realgood. My love I will ever retain, but it shall be in silence; it shallbe at a distance from you; it shall be in some foreign land; fromwhence no voice, no sigh of my despair, shall ever reach and disturbyour ears. And when I am dead"--He would have gone on, but was stoptby a flood of tears which Sophia let fall in his bosom, upon which sheleaned, without being able to speak one word. He kissed them off,which, for some moments, she allowed him to do without any resistance;but then recollecting herself, gently withdrew out of his arms; and,to turn the discourse from a subject too tender, and which she foundshe could not support, bethought herself to ask him a question shenever had time to put to him before, "How he came into that room?" Hebegan to stammer, and would, in all probability, have raised hersuspicions by the answer he was going to give, when, at once, the dooropened, and in came Lady Bellaston.

  Having advanced a few steps, and seeing Jones and Sophia together, shesuddenly stopt; when, after a pause of a few moments, recollectingherself with admirable presence of mind, she said--though withsufficient indications of surprize both in voice and countenance--"Ithought, Miss Western, you had been at the play?"

  Though Sophia had no opportunity of learning of Jones by what means hehad discovered her, yet, as she had not the least suspicion of thereal truth, or that Jones and Lady Bellaston were acquainted, so shewas very little confounded; and the less, as the lady had, in alltheir conversations on the su
bject, entirely taken her side againsther father. With very little hesitation, therefore, she went throughthe whole story of what had happened at the play-house, and the causeof her hasty return.

  The length of this narrative gave Lady Bellaston an opportunity ofrallying her spirits, and of considering in what manner to act. And asthe behaviour of Sophia gave her hopes that Jones had not betrayedher, she put on an air of good humour, and said, "I should not havebroke in so abruptly upon you, Miss Western, if I had known you hadcompany."

  Lady Bellaston fixed her eyes on Sophia whilst she spoke these words.To which that poor young lady, having her face overspread with blushesand confusion, answered, in a stammering voice, "I am sure, madam, Ishall always think the honour of your ladyship's company----" "I hope,at least," cries Lady Bellaston, "I interrupt no business."--"No,madam," answered Sophia, "our business was at an end. Your ladyshipmay be pleased to remember I have often mentioned the loss of mypocket-book, which this gentleman, having very luckily found, was sokind to return it to me with the bill in it."

  Jones, ever since the arrival of Lady Bellaston, had been ready tosink with fear. He sat kicking his heels, playing with his fingers,and looking more like a fool, if it be possible, than a young boobysquire, when he is first introduced into a polite assembly. He began,however, now to recover himself; and taking a hint from the behaviourof Lady Bellaston, who he saw did not intend to claim any acquaintancewith him, he resolved as entirely to affect the stranger on his part.He said, "Ever since he had the pocket-book in his possession, he hadused great diligence in enquiring out the lady whose name was writ init; but never till that day could be so fortunate to discover her."

  Sophia had indeed mentioned the loss of her pocket-book to LadyBellaston; but as Jones, for some reason or other, had never oncehinted to her that it was in his possession, she believed not onesyllable of what Sophia now said, and wonderfully admired the extremequickness of the young lady in inventing such an excuse. The reason ofSophia's leaving the playhouse met with no better credit; and thoughshe could not account for the meeting between these two lovers, shewas firmly persuaded it was not accidental.

  With an affected smile, therefore, she said, "Indeed, Miss Western,you have had very good luck in recovering your money. Not only as itfell into the hands of a gentleman of honour, but as he happened todiscover to whom it belonged. I think you would not consent to have itadvertised.--It was great good fortune, sir, that you found out towhom the note belonged."

  "Oh, madam," cries Jones, "it was enclosed in a pocket-book, in whichthe young lady's name was written."

  "That was very fortunate, indeed," cries the lady:--"And it was noless so, that you heard Miss Western was at my house; for she is verylittle known."

  Jones had at length perfectly recovered his spirits; and as heconceived he had now an opportunity of satisfying Sophia as to thequestion she had asked him just before Lady Bellaston came in, heproceeded thus: "Why, madam," answered he, "it was by the luckiestchance imaginable I made this discovery. I was mentioning what I hadfound, and the name of the owner, the other night to a lady at themasquerade, who told me she believed she knew where I might see MissWestern; and if I would come to her house the next morning she wouldinform me, I went according to her appointment, but she was not athome; nor could I ever meet with her till this morning, when shedirected me to your ladyship's house. I came accordingly, and didmyself the honour to ask for your ladyship; and upon my saying that Ihad very particular business, a servant showed me into this room;where I had not been long before the young lady returned from theplay."

  Upon his mentioning the masquerade, he looked very slily at LadyBellaston, without any fear of being remarked by Sophia; for she wasvisibly too much confounded to make any observations. This hint alittle alarmed the lady, and she was silent; when Jones, who saw theagitation of Sophia's mind, resolved to take the only method ofrelieving her, which was by retiring; but, before he did this, hesaid, "I believe, madam, it is customary to give some reward on theseoccasions;--I must insist on a very high one for my honesty;--it is,madam, no less than the honour of being permitted to pay another visithere."

  "Sir," replied the lady, "I make no doubt that you are a gentleman,and my doors are never shut to people of fashion."

  Jones then, after proper ceremonials, departed, highly to his ownsatisfaction, and no less to that of Sophia; who was terribly alarmedlest Lady Bellaston should discover what she knew already but toowell.

  Upon the stairs Jones met his old acquaintance, Mrs Honour, who,notwithstanding all she had said against him, was now so well bred tobehave with great civility. This meeting proved indeed a luckycircumstance, as he communicated to her the house where he lodged,with which Sophia was unacquainted.