CHAPTER IX. Containing strange matters. Ar his return to his lodgings Jones found the situation of affairs greatly altered from what they had been in at his departure. The mother, the two daughters, and young Mr. Nightingale, were now sat down to supper together, when the uncle was, at his own desire, introduced without any ceremony into the company, to all of whom he was well known; for he had several times visited his nephew at that house. The old gentleman immediately walked up to Miss Nancy, saluted and wished her joy, as he did afterwards the nephew and the other sister; and lastly, he paid the proper compliments to his nephew, with the same good humour and courtesy, as if his nephew had married his equal or superior in fortune, with all the previous requisites first performed. Miss Nancy and her supposed husband both turned pale, and looked rather foolish than otherwise upon the occasion; but Mrs. Miller took the first opportunity of withdrawing; and having sent for Jones into the diningroom, she threw herself at his feet, and in a most passionate flood of tears, called him her good angel, the preserver of her poor little family, with many other respectful and endearing appellations, and made him every acknowledgment which the highest benefit can extract from the most grateful heart. After the first gust of her passion was a little over, which she declared, if she had not vented, would have burst her, she proceeded to inform Mr. Jones, that all matters were settled between Mr. Nightingale and her daughter, and that they were to be married the next morning; at which Mr. Jones having expressed much pleasure, the poor woman fell again into a fit of joy and thanksgiving, which he at length with difficulty silenced, and prevailed on her to return with him back to the company, who they found in the same good humour in which they had left them. This little society now passed two or three very agreeable hours together, in which the uncle, who was a very great lover of his bottle, had so well plied his nephew, that this latter, though not drunk, began to be somewhat flustered; and now Mr. Nightingale, taking the old gentleman with him up stairs into the apartment he had lately occupied, unbosomed himself as follows: 'As you have been always the best and kindest of 'uncles to me, and as you have shewn such unparalleled goodness in forgiving this match, which to be sure may be thought a little improvident; I should never forgive myself if I attempted to deceive you in any 'thing.' He then confessed the truth, and opened the whole affair. เ 6 How, Jack!' said the old gentleman, and are you really then not married to this young woman?' 'No, upon my honour,' answered Nightingale, I have told you the simple truth.' 'My dear boy,' cries the uncle, kissing him, 'I am heartily glad to hear it. I was never better pleased in my life. If you had been married 'I should have assisted you as much as was in my power to have made the best of a bad matter; but there is a great difference between considering a thing 'which is already done and irrecoverable, and that which 'is yet to do. Let your reason have fair play, Jack, and you will see this match in so foolish and preposterous a light, that there will be no need of any dissuasive arguments.'' How, Sir!' replies young Nightingale, เ เ เ เ เ is there this difference between having already done an act, and being in honour engaged to do it?' 'Pugh,' said the uncle, honour is a creature of the world's 'making, and the world hath the power of a creator over it, and may govern and direct it as they please. Now you well know how trivial these breaches of con'tract are thought; even the grossest make but the wonder and conversation of a day. Is there a man who afterwards will be more backward in giving you his sister, or daughter? or is there any sister or daughter who would be more backward to receive you? Honour is not concerned in these engagements.' 'Pardon me, dear Sir,' cries Nightingale, 'I can never 'think so; and not only honour, but conscience and 'humanity are concerned. I am well satisfied, that, เ was I now to disappoint the young creature, her death 'would be the consequence, and I should look upon 'myself as her murderer; nay, as her murderer by the cruellest of all methods, by breaking her heart.''Break 'her heart, indeed! no, no, Jack,' cries the uncle, 'the hearts of women are not so soon broke; they are 'tough, boy, they are tough.' But, Sir,' answered Nightingale, my own affections are engaged, and I 'never could be happy with any other woman. How ' often have I heard you say, that children should be always suffered to choose for themselves, and that you 'would let my cousin Harriet do so!' Why, ah,' replied the old gentleman, so I would have them; but then I would have them choose wisely.-Indeed, Jack, you must and shall leave this girl.'' Indeed, uncle,' cries the other, I must and will have her.' • You will, young gentleman?' said the uncle; 'I did not expect 'such a word from you. I should not wonder if you had used such language to your father, who hath ' always treated you like a dog, and kept you at the เ เ เ เ เ 'distance which a tyrant preserves over his subjects; but I, who have lived with you upon an equal footing, might surely expect better usage: but I know how to เ account for it all! it is all owing to your preposterous ' education, in which I have had too little share. There 'is my daughter, now, whom I have brought up as my friend, never doth any thing without my advice, 'nor ever refuses to take it when I give it her.' 'You 'have never yet given her advice in an affair of this kind,' said Nightingale; for I am greatly mistaken in my cousin, if she would be very ready to obey even your most positive commands in abandoning her 'inclinations.' 'Don't abuse my girl,' answered the old gentleman with some emotion; 'don't abuse my 'Harriet. I have brought her up to have no inclinations contrary to my own. By suffering her to do whatever 'she pleases, I have enured her to a habit of being pleased to do whatever I like.' 'Pardon me, Sir,' said Nightingale, 'I have not the least design to reflect on my cousin, for whom I have the greatest esteem; and ' indeed I am convinced you will never put her to so เ severe a trial, or lay such hard commands on her as you would do on me.-But, dear Sir, let us return to 'the company; for they will begin to be uneasy at our long absence. I must beg one favour of my dear uncle, 'which is, that he would not say any thing to shock the poor girl or her mother.' 'Oh! you need not fear me,' answered he, 'I understand myself too well to affront เ women; so I will readily grant you that favour; and ' in return I must expect another of you.' but few of your commands, Sir,' said 'which I shall not very cheerfully obey.' 'ask nothing,' said the uncle, 'but the honour of your company home to my lodging, that I may reason the 'case a little more fully with you: for I would, if pos เ เ เ 'There are Nightingale, 'Nay, Sir, I sible, have the satisfaction of preserving my family, 'notwithstanding the headstrong folly of my brother, who, in his own opinion, is the wisest man in the 'world.' Nightingale, who well knew his uncle to be as headstrong as his father, submitted to attend him home, and then they both returned back into the room, where the old gentleman promised to carry himself with the same decorum which he had before maintained. CHAPTER X. A short chapter, which concludes the Book. THE long absence of the uncle and nephew had occasioned some disquiet in the minds of all whom they had left behind them; and the more, as, during the preceding dialogue, the uncle had more than once elevated his voice, so as to be heard down stairs; which, though they could not distinguish what he said, had caused some evil forboding in Nancy and her mother, and indeed even in Jones himself. When the good company therefore again assembled, there was a visible alteration in all their faces; and the good humour which, at their last meeting, universally shone forth in every countenance, was now changed into a much less agreeable aspect. It was a change indeed common enough to the weather in this climate, from sunshine to clouds, from June to December. This alteration was not however greatly remarked by any present; for as they were all now endeavouring to conceal their own thoughts, and to act a part, they |