The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

by Henry Fielding

happiness in which I had the honour to place him? His fate was a just punishment for his ingratitude.”—“Upon my word, Mr. Jones,” said she, “your gallantry very narrowly escaped as severe a fate. Sure the remembrance must affect you.”—“Indeed, madam,” answered he, “if I have any reason to reflect with sorrow on it, it is, perhaps, that the water had not been a little deeper, by which I might have escaped many bitter heart-aches that Fortune seems to have in store for me.”—“Fie, Mr. Jones!” replied Sophia; “I am sure you cannot be in earnest now. This affected contempt of life is only an excess of your complacence to me. You would endeavour to lessen the obligation of having twice ventured it for my sake. Beware the third time.” She spoke these last words with a smile, and a softness inexpressible. Jones answered with a sigh, “He feared it was already too late for caution:” and then looking tenderly and stedfastly on her, he cried, “Oh, Miss Western! can you desire me to live? Can you wish me so ill?” Sophia, looking down on the ground, answered with some hesitation, “Indeed, Mr. Jones, I do not wish you ill.”—“Oh, I know too well that heavenly temper,” cries Jones, “that divine goodness, which is beyond every other charm.”—“Nay, now,” answered she, “I understand you not. I can stay no longer.”—“I—I would not be understood!” cries he; “nay, I can’t be understood. I know not what I say. Meeting you here so unexpectedly, I have been unguarded: for Heaven’s sake pardon me, if ...