10. CHAPTER X.
The consequence of the preceding visit
Mr. Fitzpatrick having received the letter before mentioned from
Mrs. Western, and being by that means acquainted with the place to
which his wife was retired, returned directly to Bath, and thence
the day after set forward to London.
The reader hath been already often informed of the jealous temper of
this gentleman. He may likewise be pleased to remember the suspicion
which he had conceived of Jones at Upton, upon his finding him in
the room with Mrs. Waters; and, though sufficient reasons had
afterwards appeared entirely to clear up that suspicion, yet now the
reading so handsome a character of Mr. Jones from his wife, caused him
to reflect that she likewise was in the inn at the same time, and
jumbled together such a confusion of circumstances in a head which was
naturally none of the clearest, that the whole produced that
green-eyed monster mentioned by Shakespear in his tragedy of Othello.
And now, as he was inquiring in the street after his wife, and had
just received directions to the door, unfortunately Mr. Jones was
issuing from it.
Fitzpatrick did not yet recollect the face of Jones; however, seeing
a young well-dressed fellow coming from his wife, he made directly
up to him, and asked him what he had been doing in that house? "for
I am sure," said he, "you must have been in it, as I saw you come
out of it."
Jones answered very modestly, "That he had been visiting a lady
there." To which Fitzpatrick replied, "What business have you with the
lady?" Upon which Jones, who now perfectly remembered the voice,
features, and indeed coat, of the gentleman, cried out- "Ha, my good
friend! give me your hand; I hope there is no ill blood remaining
between us, upon a small mistake which happened so long ago."
"Upon my soul, sir," said Fitzpatrick, "I don't know your name nor
your face." "Indeed, sir," said Jones, "neither have I the pleasure of
knowing your name, but your face I very well remember to have seen
before at Upton, where a foolish quarrel happened between us, which,
if it is not made up yet, we will now make up over a bottle."
"At Upton!" cried the other;-- "Ha! upon my soul, I believe your
name is Jones?" "Indeed," answered he, "it is."- "O! upon my soul,"
cries Fitzpatrick, "you are the very man I wanted to meet.- Upon my
soul I will drink a bottle with you presently; but first I will give
you a great knock over the pate. There is for you, you rascal. Upon my
soul, if you do not give me satisfaction for that blow, I will give
you another." And then, drawing his sword, put himself in a posture of
defence, which was the only science he understood.
Jones was a little staggered by the blow, which came somewhat
unexpectedly; but presently recovering himself, he also drew, and
though he understood nothing of fencing, prest on so boldly upon
Fitzpatrick, that he beat down his guard, and sheathed one half of his
sword in the body of the said gentleman, who had no sooner received
it, than he stept backwards, dropped the point of his sword, and
leaning upon it, cried, "I have satisfaction enough: I am a dead man."
"I hope not," cries Jones, "but whatever be the consequence, you
must be sensible you have drawn it upon yourself." At this instant a
number of fellows rushed in and seized Jones, who told them he
should make no resistance, and begged some of them at least would take
care of the wounded gentleman.
"Ay," cries one of the fellows, "the wounded gentleman will be taken
care enough of; for I suppose he hath not many hours to live. As for
you, sir, you have a month at least good yet." "D--n me, Jack," said
another, "he hath prevented his voyage; he's bound to another port
now;" and many other such jests was our poor Jones made the subject of
by these fellows, who were indeed the gang employed by Lord
Fellamar, and had dogged him into the house of Mrs. Fitzpatrick,
waiting for him at the corner of the street when this unfortunate
accident happened.
The officer who commanded this gang very wisely concluded, that
his business was now to deliver his prisoner into the hands of the
civil magistrate. He ordered him, therefore, to be carried to a
public-house, where, having sent for a constable, he delivered him
to his custody.
The constable, seeing Mr. Jones very well drest, and hearing that
the accident had happened in a duel, treated his prisoner with great
civility, and at his request dispatched a messenger to inquire after
the wounded gentleman, who was now at a tavern under the surgeon's
hands. The report brought back was, that the wound was certainly
mortal, and there were no hopes of life. Upon which the constable
informed Jones, that he must go before a justice. He answered,
"Whenever you please; I am indifferent as to what happens to me; for
though I am convinced I am not guilty of murder in the eye of the law,
yet the weight of blood I find intolerable upon my mind."
Jones was now conducted before the justice, where the surgeon who
dressed Mr. Fitzpatrick appeared, and deposed that he believed the
wound to be mortal; upon which the prisoner was committed to the
Gatehouse. It was very late at night, so that Jones would not send for
Partridge till the next morning; and, as he never shut his eyes till
seven, so it was near twelve before the poor fellow, who was greatly
frightened at not hearing from his master so long, received a
message which almost deprived him of his being when he heard it.
He went to the Gatehouse with trembling knees and a beating heart,
and was no sooner arrived in the presence of Jones, than he lamented
the misfortune that had befallen him with many tears, looking all
the while frequently about him in great terror; for as the news now
arrived that Mr. Fitzpatrick was dead, the poor fellow apprehended
every minute that his ghost would enter the room. At last he delivered
him a letter, which he had like to have forgot, and which came from
Sophia by the hands of Black George.
Jones presently dispatched every one out of the room, and, having
eagerly broke open the letter, read as follows:-
"You owe the hearing from me again to an accident which I own
surprizes me. My aunt hath just now shown me a letter from you to Lady
Bellaston, which contains a proposal of marriage. I am convinced it is
your own hand; and what more surprizes me is, that it is dated at
the very time when would have me imagine you was under such concern on
my account.- I leave you to comment on this fact. All I desire is,
that your name may never more be mentioned to
"S. W."
Of the present situation of Mr. Jones's mind, and of the pangs
with which he was now tormented, we cannot give the reader a better
idea than by saying, his misery was such that even Thwackum would
almost have pitied him. But, bad as it is, we shall at present leave
him in it, as his good genius (if he really had any) seems to have
done. And here we put an end to the sixteenth book of our history.