A pathetic scene between Mr Allworthy and Mrs Miller.
Mrs Miller had a long discourse with Mr Allworthy, at his return from
dinner, in which she acquainted him with Jones's having unfortunately
lost all which he was pleased to bestow on him at their separation;
and with the distresses to which that loss had subjected him; of all
which she had received a full account from the faithful retailer
Partridge. She then explained the obligations she had to Jones; not
that she was entirely explicit with regard to her daughter; for though
she had the utmost confidence in Mr Allworthy, and though there could
be no hopes of keeping an affair secret which was unhappily known to
more than half a dozen, yet she could not prevail with herself to
mention those circumstances which reflected most on the chastity of
poor Nancy, but smothered that part of her evidence as cautiously as
if she had been before a judge, and the girl was now on her trial for
the murder of a bastard.
Allworthy said, there were few characters so absolutely vicious as not
to have the least mixture of good in them. “However,” says he, “I
cannot deny but that you have some obligations to the fellow, bad as
he is, and I shall therefore excuse what hath past already, but must
insist you never mention his name to me more; for, I promise you, it
was upon the fullest and plainest evidence that I resolved to take the
measures I have taken.” “Well, sir,” says she, “I make not the least
doubt but time will shew all matters in their true and natural
colours, and that you will be convinced this poor young man deserves
better of you than some other folks that shall be nameless.”
“Madam,” cries Allworthy, a little ruffled, “I will not hear any
reflections on my nephew; and if ever you say a word more of that
kind, I will depart from your house that instant. He is the worthiest
and best of men; and I once more repeat it to you, he hath carried his
friendship to this man to a blameable length, by too long concealing
facts of the blackest die. The ingratitude of the wretch to this good
young man is what I most resent; for, madam, I have the greatest
reason to imagine he had laid a plot to supplant my nephew in my
favour, and to have disinherited him.”
“I am sure, sir,” answered Mrs Miller, a little frightened (for,
though Mr Allworthy had the utmost sweetness and benevolence in his
smiles, he had great terror in his frowns), “I shall never speak
against any gentleman you are pleased to think well of. I am sure,
sir, such behaviour would very little become me, especially when the
gentleman is your nearest relation; but, sir, you must not be angry
with me, you must not indeed, for my good wishes to this poor wretch.
Sure I may call him so now, though once you would have been angry with
me if I had spoke of him with the least disrespect. How often have I
heard you call him your son? How often have you prattled to me of him
with all the fondness of a parent? Nay, sir, I cannot forget the many
tender expressions, the many good things you have told me of his
beauty, and his parts, and his virtues; of his good-nature and
generosity. I am sure, sir, I cannot forget them, for I find them all
true. I have experienced them in my own cause. They have preserved my
family. You must pardon my tears, sir, indeed you must. When I
consider the cruel reverse of fortune which this poor youth, to whom I
am so much obliged, hath suffered; when I consider the loss of your
favour, which I know he valued more than his life, I must, I must
lament him. If you had a dagger in your hand, ready to plunge into my
heart, I must lament the misery of one whom you have loved, and I
shall ever love.”
Allworthy was pretty much moved with this speech, but it seemed not to
be with anger; for, after a short silence, taking Mrs Miller by the
hand, he said very affectionately to her, “Come, madam, let us
consider a little about your daughter. I cannot blame you for
rejoicing in a match which promises to be advantageous to her, but you
know this advantage, in a great measure, depends on the father's
reconciliation. I know Mr Nightingale very well, and have formerly had
concerns with him; I will make him a visit, and endeavour to serve you
in this matter. I believe he is a worldly man; but as this is an only
son, and the thing is now irretrievable, perhaps he may in time be
brought to reason. I promise you I will do all I can for you.”
Many were the acknowledgments which the poor woman made to Allworthy
for this kind and generous offer, nor could she refrain from taking
this occasion again to express her gratitude towards Jones, “to whom,”
said she, “I owe the opportunity of giving you, sir, this present
trouble.” Allworthy gently stopped her; but he was too good a man to
be really offended with the effects of so noble a principle as now
actuated Mrs Miller; and indeed, had not this new affair inflamed his
former anger against Jones, it is possible he might have been a little
softened towards him, by the report of an action which malice itself
could not have derived from an evil motive.
Mr Allworthy and Mrs Miller had been above an hour together, when
their conversation was put an end to by the arrival of Blifil and
another person, which other person was no less than Mr Dowling, the
attorney, who was now become a great favourite with Mr Blifil, and
whom Mr Allworthy, at the desire of his nephew, had made his steward;
and had likewise recommended him to Mr Western, from whom the attorney
received a promise of being promoted to the same office upon the first
vacancy; and, in the meantime, was employed in transacting some
affairs which the squire then had in London in relation to a mortgage.
This was the principal affair which then brought Mr Dowling to town;
therefore he took the same opportunity to charge himself with some
money for Mr Allworthy, and to make a report to him of some other
business; in all which, as it was of much too dull a nature to find
any place in this history, we will leave the uncle, nephew, and their
lawyer concerned, and resort to other matters.