8. CHAPTER VIII.
A dialogue between Mesdames Bridget and Deborah; containing more
amusement, but less instruction, than the former
When Mr. Allworthy had retired to his study with Jenny Jones, as
hath been seen, Mrs. Bridget, with the good housekeeper, had betaken
themselves to a post next adjoining to the said study; whence, through
the conveyance of a keyhole, they sucked in at their ears the
instructive lecture delivered by Mr. Allworthy, together with the
answers of Jenny, and indeed every other particular which passed in
the last chapter.
This hole in her brother's study-door was indeed as well known to
Mrs. Bridget, and had been as frequently applied to by her, as the
famous hole in the wall was by Thisbe of old. This served to many good
purposes. For by such means Mrs. Bridget became often acquainted
with her brother's inclinations, without giving him the trouble of
repeating them to her. It is true, some inconveniences attended this
intercourse, and she had sometimes reason to cry out with Thisbe, in
Shakespear, "O, wicked, wicked wall!" For as Mr. Allworthy was a
justice of peace, certain things occurred in examinations concerning
bastards, and such like, which are apt to give great offence to the
chaste ears of virgins, especially when they approach the age of
forty, as was the case of Miss Bridget. However, she had, on such
occasions, the advantage of concealing her blushes from the eyes of
men; and De non apparentibus, et non existentibus eadem est
ratio- in English, "When a woman is not seen to blush, she doth not
blush at all."
Both the good women kept strict silence during the whole scene
between Mr. Allworthy and the girl; but as soon as it was ended, and
that gentleman was out of hearing, Mrs. Deborah could not help
exclaiming against the clemency of her master, and especially
against his suffering her to conceal the father of the child, which
she swore she would have out of her before the sun set.
At these words Miss Bridget discomposed her features with a smile (a
thing very unusual to her). Not that I would have my reader imagine,
that this was one of those wanton smiles which Homer would have you
conceive came from Venus, when he calls her the laughter-loving
goddess; nor was it one of those smiles which Lady Seraphina shoots
from the stage-box, and which Venus would quit her immortality to be
able to equal. No, this was rather one of those smiles which might
be supposed to have come from the dimpled cheeks of the august
Tisiphone, or from one of the misses, her sisters.
With such a smile then, and with a voice sweet as the evening breeze
of Boreas in the pleasant month of November, Miss Bridget gently
reproved the curiosity of Mrs. Deborah; a vice with which it seems the
latter was too much tainted, and which the former inveighed against
with great bitterness, adding, "That, among all her faults, she
thanked Heaven her enemies could not accuse her of prying into the
affairs of other people."
She then proceeded to commend the honour and spirit with which Jenny
had acted. She said, she could not help agreeing with her brother,
that there was some merit in the sincerity of her confession, and in
her integrity to her lover: that she had always thought her a very
good girl, and doubted not but she had been seduced by some rascal,
who had been infinitely more to blame than herself, and very
probably had prevailed with her by a promise of marriage, or some
other treacherous proceeding.
This behaviour of Miss Bridget greatly surprised Mrs. Deborah; for
this well-bred woman seldom opened her lips, either to her master or
his sister, till she had first sounded their inclinations, with
which her sentiments were always consonant. Here, however, she thought
she might have launched forth with safety; and the sagacious reader
will not perhaps accuse her of want of sufficient forecast in so
doing, but will rather admire with what wonderful celerity she
tacked about, when she found herself steering a wrong course.
"Nay, madam," said this able woman, and truly great politician, "I
must own I cannot help admiring the girl's spirit, as well as your
ladyship. And, as your ladyship says, if she was deceived by some
wicked man, the poor wretch is to be pitied. And to be sure, as your
ladyship says, the girl hath always appeared like a good, honest,
plain girl, and not vain of her face, forsooth, as some wanton husseys
in the neighbourhood are."
"You say true, Deborah," said Miss Bridget. "If the girl had been
one of those vain trollops, of which we have too many in the parish, I
should have condemned my brother for his lenity towards her. I saw two
farmers' daughters at church, the other day, with bare necks. I
protest they shocked me. If wenches will hang out lures for fellows,
it is no matter what they suffer. I detest such creatures; and it
would be much better for them that their faces had been seamed with
the smallpox; but I must confess, I never saw any of this wanton
behaviour in poor Jenny: some artful villain, I am convinced, hath
betrayed, nay perhaps forced her; and I pity the poor wretch with
all my heart."
Mrs. Deborah approved all these sentiments, and the dialogue
concluded with a general and bitter invective against beauty, and with
many compassionate considerations for all honest, plain girls who
are deluded by the wicked arts of deceitful men.