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ily your friend, cannot conceive a reason why they should belie you, what reason will an indifferent court of justice be able to assign, why they should not believe them? I repeated the question to them several times, and so did another gentleman who was present, who, I believe, is a seafaring man, and who really acted a very friendly part by you; for he begged them often to consider, that there was the life of a man in the case; and asked them over and over, if they were certain; to which they both an swered, that they were, and would abide by their evidence upon oath. For Heaven's sake, my dear friend, recollect yourself; for if this should appear to be the fact, it will be your business to think in time of making the best of your interest. I would not shock you; but you know, I believe, the seve rity of the law, whatever verbal provocations may have been given you. Alas! my friend,' cries Jones, what interest hath such a wretch as I? Besides, do you think I would even wish to live with the reputation of a murderer? If I had any friends. (as, alas! I have none), could I have the confidence. to solicit them to speak in the behalf of a man coudemned for the blackest crime in human nature? Believe me, I have no such hope; but I have some reliance on a throne still greatly superior; which will, I am certain, afford me all the protection I merit.'
He then concluded with many solemn and vehement protestations of the truth of what he had at first asserted.
The faith of Nightingale was now again staggered, and began to incline to credit his friend, when Mrs. Miller appeared, and made a sorrowful report of the success of her embassy; which when Jones had heard, he cried out most heroically, Well, my friend, I am now indifferent as to what shall hap pen, at least with regard to my life; and if it be the will of Heaven that I shall make an atonement with that for the blood I have spilt, I hope the Divine
Goodness will one day suffer my honour to be cleared, and that the words of a dying man, at least, will be believed, so far as to justify his character."
A very mournful scene now passed between the prisoner and his friends; at which as few readers would have been pleased to be present, so few, I be lieve, will desire to hear it particularly related. We will, therefore, pass on to the entrance of the turnkey, who acquainted Jones, that there was a lady without who desired to speak with him, when he was at leisure.
Jones declared his surprise at this message. He said, he knew no lady in the world whom he could possibly expect to see there. However, as he saw no reason to decline seeing any person, Mrs. Miller and Mr. Nightingale presently took their leave, and he gave orders to have the lady admitted.
If Jones was surprised at the news of a visit from a lady, how greatly was he astonished when he discovered this lady to be no other than Mrs. Waters! In this astonishment, then, we shall leave him awhile, in order to cure the surprise of the reader, who will likewise, probably, not a little wonder at the arrival of this lady.
Who this Mrs. Waters was, the reader pretty well knows; what she was, he must be perfectly satis fied. He will, therefore, be pleased to remember, that this lady departed from Upton in the same coach with Mr. Fitzpatrick and the other Irish gentleman, and in their company travelled to Bath.
Now there was a certain office in the gift of Mr. Fitzpatrick at that time vacant, namely, that of a wife; for the lady who had lately filled that office had resigned, or at least deserted her duty. Mr. Fitzpatrick, therefore, having thoroughly examined Mrs. Waters on the road, found her extremely fit for the place, which, on their arrival at Bath, he presently conferred upon her, and she, without any scruple, accepted. As husband and wife this gentleman and lady continued together all the time they
stayed at Bath, and as husband and wife they ar rived together in town.
Whether Mr. Fitzpatrick was so wiзe a man as not to part with one good thing till he had secured another, which he had at present only a prospect of regaining, or whether Mrs. Waters had so well discharged her office, that he intended still to retain her as principal, and to make his wife (as is often the case) only her deputy, I will not say; but certain it is, he never mentioned his wife to her, never communicated to her the letter given him by Mrs. Western, nor ever once hinted his purpose of repossessing his wife; much less did he ever mention the name of Jones. For though he intended to fight with him wherever he met him, he did not imitate those prudent persons who think a wife, a mo ther, a sister, or sometimes a whole family, the safest seconds on these occasions. The first account, therefore, which she had of all this, was delivered to her from his lips, after he was brought home from the tavern, where his wound had been dressed.
As Mr. Fitzpatrick, however, had not the clearest way of telling a story at any time, and was now, perhaps, a little more confused than usual, it was some time before she discovered that the gentleman who had given him this wound was the very same person from whom her heart had received a wound, which, though not of a mortal kind, was yet so deep, that it had left a considerable scar behind it. But no sooner was she acquainted that Mr. Jones himself was the man who had been committed to the Gatehouse for this supposed murder, than she took the first opportunity of committing Mr. Fitzpatrick to the care of his nurse, and hastened away to visit the conqueror.
She now entered the room with an air of gaiety, which received an immediate check from the melancholy aspect of poor Jones, who started and blessed
himself when he saw her. Upon which she said, Nay, I do not wonder at your surprise: I believe you did not expect to see me; for few gentlemen are troubled here with visits from any lady, unless a wife. You see the power you have over me, Mr. Jones. Indeed, I little thought, when we parted at Upton, that our next meeting would have been in such a place. Indeed, madam,' says Jones, 'I must look upon this visit as kind; few will follow the miserable, especially to such dismal habitations."
I protest, Mr. Jones,' says she, 'I can hardly persuade myself you are the same agreeable fellow I saw at Upton. Why, your face is more miserable. than any dungeon in the universe! What can be the matter with you? I thought, madam,' said Jones, as you knew of my being here, you knew the unhappy reason.' Pugh,' says she, you have piuk. ed a man in a duel, that's all!' Jones expressed some indignation at this levity, and spoke with the utmost contrition for what had happened. To which she answered, 'Well then, sir, if you take it so much to heart, I will relieve you: the gentleman is not dead; and, I am pretty confident, is in no danger of dying. The surgeon, indeed, who first dressed him, was a young fellow, and seemed desirous of representing his case to be as bad as possible, that he might have the more honour from curing him; but the king's surgeon hath seen him since, and says, unless from a fever, of which there are at present no symptoms, he apprehends not the least danger of life.' Jones showed great satisfaction in his countenance at this report; upon which she affirmed the truth of it, adding, By the most extraordinary accident in the world, I lodge at the same house, and have seen the gentleman; and I promise you, he doth you justice, and says, whatever be the conse quence, that he was entirely the aggressor, and that you was not in the least to blame.'
Jones expressed the utmost satisfaction at the ac
count which Mrs. Waters brought him. He then informed her of mauy things which she well knew before, as who Mr. Fitzpatrick was, the occasion of his resentment, &c. He likewise told her several facts of which she was ignorant, as the adventure of the muff, and other particulars, concealing only the name of Sophia. He then lamented the follies and vices of which he had been guilty; every one of which, he said, had been attended with such ill con sequences, that he should be unpardonable if he did not take warning, and quit those vicious courses for the future. He lastly concluded with assuring her of his resolution to sin no more, lest a worse thing should happen to him.
Mrs. Waters, with great pleasantry, ridiculed all this, as the effects of low spirits and confinement. She repeated some witticisms about the devil when he was sick, and told him, she doubted not but shortly to see him at liberty, and as lively a fellow as ever; and then,' says she, I don't question but your conscience will be safely delivered of all those qualms that it is now so sick in breeding.'
Many more things of this kind she uttered, some of which it would do her no great honour, in the opinion of some readers, to remember; nor are we quite certain but that the answers made by Jones would be treated with ridicule by others. We shall, therefore, suppress the rest of this conversation, and only observe, that it ended at last with perfect innocence, and much more to the satisfaction of Jones than of the lady; for the former was greatly trans. ported with the news she had brought him; but the latter was not altogether so pleased with the penitential behaviour of a man, whom she had, at her first interview, conceived a very different opinion of from what she now entertained of him.
Thus the melancholy occasioned by the report of Mr. Nightingale was pretty well effaced; but the dejection into which Mrs. Miller had thrown him still continued. The account she gave so well tallied