The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

before at anything in my whole life. Are you certain this was the gentleman?”⁠—“I am most certain,” answered Nightingale.⁠—“At Aldersgate?” cries Allworthy. “And was you in company with this lawyer and the two fellows?”⁠—“I was, sir,” said the other, “very near half an hour.”⁠—“Well, sir,” said Allworthy, “and in what manner did the lawyer behave? did you hear all that passed between him and the fellows?”⁠—“No, sir,” answered Nightingale, “they had been together before I came. In my presence the lawyer said little; but, after I had several times examined the fellows, who persisted in a story directly contrary to what I had heard from Mr. Jones, and which I find by Mr. Fitzpatrick was a rank falsehood, the lawyer then desired the fellows to say nothing but what was the truth, and seemed to speak so much in favour of Mr. Jones, that, when I saw the same person with you, I concluded your goodness had prompted you to send him thither.”⁠—“And did you not send him thither?” says Mrs. Miller.⁠—“Indeed I did not,” answered Allworthy; “nor did I know he had gone on such an errand till this moment.”⁠—“I see it all!” said Mrs. Miller, “upon my soul, I see it all! No wonder they have been closeted so close lately. Son Nightingale, let me beg you run for these fellows immediately⁠—find them out if they are aboveground. I will go myself”⁠—“Dear madam,” said Allworthy, “be patient, and do me the favour to send a servant upstairs to call Mr. Dowling hither, if he be in the house, or, if not, Mr. Blifil.” Mrs. Miller went out muttering something to herself, and presently returned with an answer, “That Mr. Dowling was gone; but that the t’other,” as she called him, “was coming.”

Allworthy was of a cooler disposition than the good woman, whose spirits were all up in arms in the cause of her friend. He was not however without some suspicions which were near akin to hers. When Blifil came into the room, he asked him with a very serious countenance, and with a less friendly look than he had ever before given him, “Whether he knew anything of Mr. Dowling’s having seen any of the persons who were present at the duel between Jones and another gentleman?”

There is nothing so dangerous as a question which comes by surprise on a man whose business it is to conceal truth, or to defend falsehood. For which reason those worthy personages, whose noble office it is to save the lives of their fellow-creatures at the Old Bailey, take the utmost care, by frequent previous examination, to divine every question which may be asked their clients on the day of trial, that they may be supplied with proper and ready answers, which the most fertile invention cannot supply in an instant. Besides, the sudden and violent impulse on the blood, occasioned by these surprises, causes frequently such an alteration in the countenance, that the man is obliged to give evidence against himself. And such indeed were the alterations which the countenance of Blifil underwent from this sudden question, that we can scarce blame the eagerness of Mrs. Miller, who immediately cried out, “Guilty, upon my honour! guilty, upon my soul!”

Mr. Allworthy sharply rebuked her for this impetuosity; and then turning to Blifil, who seemed sinking into the earth, he said, “Why do you hesitate, sir, at giving me an answer? You certainly must have employed him; for he would not, of his own accord, I believe, have undertaken such an errand, and especially without acquainting me.”

Blifil then answered, “I own, sir, I have been guilty of an offence, yet may I hope your pardon?”⁠—“My pardon,” said Allworthy, very angrily.⁠—“Nay, sir,” answered Blifil, “I knew you would be offended; yet surely my dear uncle will forgive the effects of the most amiable of human weaknesses. Compassion for those who do not deserve it, I own is a crime; and yet it is a crime from which you yourself are not entirely free. I know I have been guilty of it in more than one instance to this very person; and I will own I did send Mr. Dowling, not on a vain and fruitless enquiry, but to discover the witnesses, and to endeavour to soften their evidence. This, sir, is the truth; which, though I intended to conceal from you, I will not deny.”

“I confess,” said Nightingale, “this is the light in which it appeared to me from the gentleman’s behaviour.”

“Now, madam,” said Allworthy, “I believe you will once in your life own you have entertained a wrong suspicion, and are not so angry with my nephew as you was.”

Mrs. Miller was silent; for, though she could not so hastily be pleased with Blifil, whom she looked upon to have been the ruin of Jones, yet in this particular instance he had imposed upon her as well as upon the rest; so entirely had the devil stood his friend. And, indeed, I look upon the vulgar observation, “That the devil often deserts his friends, and leaves them in the lurch,” to be a great abuse on that gentleman’s character. Perhaps he may sometimes desert those who are only his cup acquaintance; or who, at most, are but half his; but he generally stands by those who are thoroughly his servants, and helps them off in all extremities, till their bargain expires.

As a conquered rebellion strengthens a government, or as health is more perfectly established by recovery from some diseases; so anger, when removed, often gives new life to affection. This was the case of Mr. Allworthy; for Blifil having wiped off the greater suspicion, the lesser, which had been raised by Square’s letter, sunk of course, and was forgotten; and Thwackum, with whom he was greatly offended, bore alone all the reflections which Square had cast on the enemies of Jones.

As for that young man, the resentment of Mr. Allworthy began more and more to abate towards him. He told Blifil, “He did not only forgive the extraordinary efforts of his good-nature, but would give him the pleasure