The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, Henry Fielding [best ereader under 100 TXT] 📗

“I am sorry I have offended your ladyship,” answered Mrs. Honour. “I am sure I hate Molly Seagrim as much as your ladyship can; and as for abusing Squire Jones, I can call all the servants in the house to witness, that whenever any talk hath been about bastards, I have always taken his part; for which of you, says I to the footmen, would not be a bastard, if he could, to be made a gentleman of? And, says I, I am sure he is a very fine gentleman; and he hath one of the whitest hands in the world; for to be sure so he hath: and, says I, one of the sweetest temperedest, best naturedest men in the world he is; and, says I, all the servants and neighbours all round the country loves him. And, to be sure, I could tell your ladyship something, but that I am afraid it would offend you.”⁠—“What could you tell me, Honour?” says Sophia.⁠—“Nay, ma’am, to be sure he meant nothing by it, therefore I would not have your ladyship be offended.”⁠—“Prithee tell me,” says Sophia; “I will know it this instant.”⁠—“Why, ma’am,” answered Mrs. Honour, “he came into the room one day last week when I was at work, and there lay your ladyship’s muff on a chair, and to be sure he put his hands into it; that very muff your ladyship gave me but yesterday. La! says I, Mr. Jones, you will stretch my lady’s muff, and spoil it: but he still kept his hands in it: and then he kissed it⁠—to be sure I hardly ever saw such a kiss in my life as he gave it.”⁠—“I suppose he did not know it was mine,” replied Sophia.⁠—“Your ladyship shall hear, ma’am. He kissed it again and again, and said it was the prettiest muff in the world. La! sir, says I, you have seen it a hundred times. Yes, Mrs. Honour, cried he; but who can see anything beautiful in the presence of your lady but herself? Nay, that’s not all neither; but I hope your ladyship won’t be offended, for to be sure he meant nothing. One day, as your ladyship was playing on the harpsichord to my master, Mr. Jones was sitting in the next room, and methought he looked melancholy. La! says I, Mr. Jones, what’s the matter? a penny for your thoughts, says I. Why, hussy, says he, starting up from a dream, what can I be thinking of, when that angel your mistress is playing? And then squeezing me by the hand, Oh! Mrs. Honour, says he, how happy will that man be!⁠—and then he sighed. Upon my troth, his breath is as sweet as a nosegay. But to be sure he meant no harm by it. So I hope your ladyship will not mention a word; for he gave me a crown never to mention it, and made me swear upon a book, but I believe, indeed, it was not the Bible.”

Till something of a more beautiful red than vermilion be found out, I shall say nothing of Sophia’s colour on this occasion. “Ho⁠—nour,” says she, “I⁠—if you will not mention this any more to me⁠—nor to anybody else, I will not betray you⁠—I mean, I will not be angry; but I am afraid of your tongue. Why, my girl, will you give it such liberties?”⁠—“Nay, ma’am,” answered she, “to be sure, I would sooner cut out my tongue than offend your ladyship. To be sure I shall never mention a word that your ladyship would not have me.”⁠—“Why, I would not have you mention this any more,” said Sophia, “for it may come to my father’s ears, and he would be angry with Mr. Jones; though I really believe, as you say, he meant nothing. I should be very angry myself, if I imagined⁠—”⁠—“Nay, ma’am,” says Honour, “I protest I believe he meant nothing. I thought he talked as if he was out of his senses; nay, he said he believed he was beside himself when he had spoken the words. Ay, sir, says I, I believe so too. Yes, says he, Honour. But I ask your ladyship’s pardon; I could tear my tongue out for offending you.”⁠—“Go on,” says Sophia; “you may mention anything you have not told me before.”⁠—“Yes, Honour, says he (this was some time afterwards, when he gave me the crown), I am neither such a coxcomb, or such a villain, as to think of her in any other delight but as my goddess; as such I will always worship and adore her while I have breath. This was all, ma’am, I will be sworn, to the best of my remembrance. I was in a passion with him myself, till I found he meant no harm.”⁠—“Indeed, Honour,” says Sophia, “I believe you have a real affection for me. I was provoked the other day when I gave you warning; but if you have a desire to stay with me, you shall.”⁠—“To be sure, ma’am,” answered Mrs. Honour, “I shall never desire to part with your ladyship. To be sure, I almost cried my eyes out when you gave me warning. It would be very ungrateful in me to desire to leave your ladyship; because as why, I should never get so good a place again. I am sure I would live and die with your ladyship; for, as poor Mr. Jones said, happy is the man⁠—”

Here the dinner bell interrupted a conversation which had wrought such an effect on Sophia, that she was, perhaps, more obliged to her bleeding in the morning, than she, at the time, had apprehended she should be. As to the present situation of her mind, I shall adhere to a rule of Horace, by not attempting to describe it, from despair of success. Most of my readers will suggest it easily to themselves; and the few who cannot, would not understand the picture, or at least would deny it to be natural, if ever so well drawn.