Chapter ii.

Containing letters and other matters which attend amours.

Jones had not been long at home before he received the following

letter:--

“I was never more surprized than when I found you was gone. When you

left the room I little imagined you intended to have left the house

without seeing me again. Your behaviour is all of a piece, and

convinces me how much I ought to despise a heart which can doat upon

an idiot; though I know not whether I should not admire her cunning

more than her simplicity: wonderful both! For though she understood

not a word of what passed between us, yet she had the skill, the

assurance, the----what shall I call it? to deny to my face that she

knows you, or ever saw you before.----Was this a scheme laid between

you, and have you been base enough to betray me?----O how I despise

her, you, and all the world, but chiefly myself! for----I dare not

write what I should afterwards run mad to read; but remember, I can

detest as violently as I have loved.”

Jones had but little time given him to reflect on this letter, before

a second was brought him from the same hand; and this, likewise, we

shall set down in the precise words.

“When you consider the hurry of spirits in which I must have writ,

you cannot be surprized at any expressions in my former note.--Yet,

perhaps, on reflection, they were rather too warm. At least I would,

if possible, think all owing to the odious playhouse, and to the

impertinence of a fool, which detained me beyond my

appointment.----How easy is it to think well of those we

love!----Perhaps you desire I should think so. I have resolved to

see you to-night; so come to me immediately.

“_P.S._--I have ordered to be at home to none but yourself.

“_P.S._--Mr Jones will imagine I shall assist him in his defence;

for I believe he cannot desire to impose on me more than I desire to

impose on myself.

“_P.S._--Come immediately.”

To the men of intrigue I refer the determination, whether the angry or

the tender letter gave the greatest uneasiness to Jones. Certain it

is, he had no violent inclination to pay any more visits that evening,

unless to one single person. However, he thought his honour engaged,

and had not this been motive sufficient, he would not have ventured to

blow the temper of Lady Bellaston into that flame of which he had

reason to think it susceptible, and of which he feared the consequence

might be a discovery to Sophia, which he dreaded. After some

discontented walks therefore about the room, he was preparing to

depart, when the lady kindly prevented him, not by another letter, but

by her own presence. She entered the room very disordered in her

dress, and very discomposed in her looks, and threw herself into a

chair, where, having recovered her breath, she said--“You see, sir,

when women have gone one length too far, they will stop at none. If

any person would have sworn this to me a week ago, I would not have

believed it of myself.” “I hope, madam,” said Jones, “my charming Lady

Bellaston will be as difficult to believe anything against one who is

so sensible of the many obligations she hath conferred upon him.”

“Indeed!” says she, “sensible of obligations! Did I expect to hear

such cold language from Mr Jones?” “Pardon me, my dear angel,” said

he, “if, after the letters I have received, the terrors of your anger,

though I know not how I have deserved it.”--“And have I then,” says

she, with a smile, “so angry a countenance?--Have I really brought a

chiding face with me?”--“If there be honour in man,” said he, “I have

done nothing to merit your anger.--You remember the appointment you

sent me; I went in pursuance.”--“I beseech you,” cried she, “do not

run through the odious recital.--Answer me but one question, and I

shall be easy. Have you not betrayed my honour to her?”--Jones fell

upon his knees, and began to utter the most violent protestations,

when Partridge came dancing and capering into the room, like one drunk

with joy, crying out, “She's found! she's found!--Here, sir, here,

she's here--Mrs Honour is upon the stairs.” “Stop her a moment,” cries

Jones--“Here, madam, step behind the bed, I have no other room nor

closet, nor place on earth to hide you in; sure never was so damned an

accident.”--“D--n'd indeed!” said the lady, as she went to her place

of concealment; and presently afterwards in came Mrs Honour.

“Hey-day!” says she, “Mr Jones, what's the matter?--That impudent

rascal your servant would scarce let me come upstairs. I hope he hath

not the same reason to keep me from you as he had at Upton.--I suppose

you hardly expected to see me; but you have certainly bewitched my

lady. Poor dear young lady! To be sure, I loves her as tenderly as if

she was my own sister. Lord have mercy upon you, if you don't make her

a good husband! and to be sure, if you do not, nothing can be bad

enough for you.” Jones begged her only to whisper, for that there was

a lady dying in the next room. “A lady!” cries she; “ay, I suppose one

of your ladies.--O Mr Jones, there are too many of them in the world;

I believe we are got into the house of one, for my Lady Bellaston I

darst to say is no better than she should be.”--“Hush! hush!” cries

Jones, “every word is overheard in the next room.” “I don't care a

farthing,” cries Honour, “I speaks no scandal of any one; but to be

sure the servants make no scruple of saying as how her ladyship meets

men at another place--where the house goes under the name of a poor

gentlewoman; but her ladyship pays the rent, and many's the good thing

besides, they say, she hath of her.”--Here Jones, after expressing the

utmost uneasiness, offered to stop her mouth:--“Hey-day! why sure, Mr

Jones, you will let me speak; I speaks no scandal, for I only says

what I heard from others--and thinks I to myself, much good may it do

the gentlewoman with her riches, if she comes by it in such a wicked

manner. To be sure it is better to be poor and honest.” “The servants

are villains,” cries Jones, “and abuse their lady unjustly.”--“Ay, to

be sure, servants are always villains, and so my lady says, and won't

hear a word of it.”--“No, I am convinced,” says Jones, “my Sophia is

above listening to such base scandal.” “Nay, I believe it is no

scandal, neither,” cries Honour, “for why should she meet men at

another house?--It can never be for any good: for if she had a lawful

design of being courted, as to be sure any lady may lawfully give her

company to men upon that account: why, where can be the sense?”--“I

protest,” cries Jones, “I can't hear all this of a lady of such

honour, and a relation of Sophia; besides, you will distract the poor

lady in the next room.--Let me entreat you to walk with me down

stairs.”--“Nay, sir, if you won't let me speak, I have done.--Here,

sir, is a letter from my young lady--what would some men give to have

this? But, Mr Jones, I think you are not over and above generous, and

yet I have heard some servants say----but I am sure you will do me the

justice to own I never saw the colour of your money.” Here Jones

hastily took the letter, and presently after slipped five pieces into

her hand. He then returned a thousand thanks to his dear Sophia in a

whisper, and begged her to leave him to read her letter: she presently

departed, not without expressing much grateful sense of his

generosity.

Lady Bellaston now came from behind the curtain. How shall I describe

her rage? Her tongue was at first incapable of utterance; but streams

of fire darted from her eyes, and well indeed they might, for her

heart was all in a flame. And now as soon as her voice found way,

instead of expressing any indignation against Honour or her own

servants, she began to attack poor Jones. “You see,” said she, “what I

have sacrificed to you; my reputation, my honour--gone for ever! And

what return have I found? Neglected, slighted for a country girl, for

an idiot.”--“What neglect, madam, or what slight,” cries Jones, “have

I been guilty of?”--“Mr Jones,” said she, “it is in vain to dissemble;

if you will make me easy, you must entirely give her up; and as a

proof of your intention, show me the letter.”--“What letter, madam?”

said Jones. “Nay, surely,” said she, “you cannot have the confidence

to deny your having received a letter by the hands of that

trollop.”--“And can your ladyship,” cries he, “ask of me what I must

part with my honour before I grant? Have I acted in such a manner by

your ladyship? Could I be guilty of betraying this poor innocent girl

to you, what security could you have that I should not act the same

part by yourself? A moment's reflection will, I am sure, convince you

that a man with whom the secrets of a lady are not safe must be the

most contemptible of wretches.”--“Very well,” said she--“I need not

insist on your becoming this contemptible wretch in your own opinion;

for the inside of the letter could inform me of nothing more than I

know already. I see the footing you are upon.”--Here ensued a long

conversation, which the reader, who is not too curious, will thank me

for not inserting at length. It shall suffice, therefore, to inform

him, that Lady Bellaston grew more and more pacified, and at length

believed, or affected to believe, his protestations, that his meeting

with Sophia that evening was merely accidental, and every other matter

which the reader already knows, and which, as Jones set before her in

the strongest light, it is plain that she had in reality no reason to

be angry with him.

She was not, however, in her heart perfectly satisfied with his

refusal to show her the letter; so deaf are we to the clearest reason,

when it argues against our prevailing passions. She was, indeed, well

convinced that Sophia possessed the first place in Jones's affections;

and yet, haughty and amorous as this lady was, she submitted at last

to bear the second place; or, to express it more properly in a legal

phrase, was contented with the possession of that of which another

woman had the reversion.

It was at length agreed that Jones should for the future visit at the

house: for that Sophia, her maid, and all the servants, would place

these visits to the account of Sophia; and that she herself would be

considered as the person imposed upon.

This scheme was contrived by the lady, and highly relished by Jones,

who was indeed glad to have a prospect of seeing his Sophia at any

rate; and the lady herself was not a little pleased with the

imposition on Sophia, which Jones, she thought, could not possibly

discover to her for his own sake.

The next day was appointed for the first visit, and then, after proper

ceremonials, the Lady Bellaston returned home.