The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend, Mr. Abraham Abrams/Book I, Chapter V

CHAPTER V.

_The death of Sir Thomas Booby, with the affectionate and mournful

behaviour of his widow, and the great purity of Joseph Andrews._

At this time an accident happened which put a stop to those agreeable

walks, which probably would have soon puffed up the cheeks of Fame, and

caused her to blow her brazen trumpet through the town; and this was no

other than the death of Sir Thomas Booby, who, departing this life, left

his disconsolate lady confined to her house, as closely as if she

herself had been attacked by some violent disease. During the first six

days the poor lady admitted none but Mrs. Slipslop, and three female

friends, who made a party at cards: but on the seventh she ordered Joey,

whom, for a good reason, we shall hereafter call JOSEPH, to bring up her

tea-kettle. The lady being in bed, called Joseph to her, bade him sit

down, and, having accidentally laid her hand on his, she asked him if he

had ever been in love. Joseph answered, with some confusion, it was time

enough for one so young as himself to think on such things. "As young as

you are," replied the lady, "I am convinced you are no stranger to that

passion. Come, Joey," says she, "tell me truly, who is the happy girl

whose eyes have made a conquest of you?" Joseph returned, that all the

women he had ever seen were equally indifferent to him. "Oh then," said

the lady, "you are a general lover. Indeed, you handsome fellows, like

handsome women, are very long and difficult in fixing; but yet you

shall never persuade me that your heart is so insusceptible of

affection; I rather impute what you say to your secrecy, a very

commendable quality, and what I am far from being angry with you for.

Nothing can be more unworthy in a young man, than to betray any

intimacies with the ladies." "Ladies! madam," said Joseph, "I am sure I

never had the impudence to think of any that deserve that name." "Don't

pretend to too much modesty," said she, "for that sometimes may be

impertinent: but pray answer me this question. Suppose a lady should

happen to like you; suppose she should prefer you to all your sex, and

admit you to the same familiarities as you might have hoped for if you

had been born her equal, are you certain that no vanity could tempt you

to discover her? Answer me honestly, Joseph; have you so much more sense

and so much more virtue than you handsome young fellows generally have,

who make no scruple of sacrificing our dear reputation to your pride,

without considering the great obligation we lay on you by our

condescension and confidence? Can you keep a secret, my Joey?" "Madam,"

says he, "I hope your ladyship can't tax me with ever betraying the

secrets of the family; and I hope, if you was to turn me away, I might

have that character of you." "I don't intend to turn you away, Joey,"

said she, and sighed; "I am afraid it is not in my power." She then

raised herself a little in her bed, and discovered one of the whitest

necks that ever was seen; at which Joseph blushed. "La!" says she, in an

affected surprize, "what am I doing? I have trusted myself with a man

alone, naked in bed; suppose you should have any wicked intentions upon

my honour, how should I defend myself?" Joseph protested that he never

had the least evil design against her. "No," says she, "perhaps you may

not call your designs wicked; and perhaps they are not so."--He swore

they were not. "You misunderstand me," says she; "I mean if they were

against my honour, they may not be wicked; but the world calls them so.

But then, say you, the world will never know anything of the matter; yet

would not that be trusting to your secrecy? Must not my reputation be

then in your power? Would you not then be my master?" Joseph begged her

ladyship to be comforted; for that he would never imagine the least

wicked thing against her, and that he had rather die a thousand deaths

than give her any reason to suspect him. "Yes," said she, "I must have

reason to suspect you. Are you not a man? and, without vanity, I may

pretend to some charms. But perhaps you may fear I should prosecute you;

indeed I hope you do; and yet Heaven knows I should never have the

confidence to appear before a court of justice; and you know, Joey, I am

of a forgiving temper. Tell me, Joey, don't you think I should forgive

you?"--"Indeed, madam," says Joseph, "I will never do anything to

disoblige your ladyship."--"How," says she, "do you think it would not

disoblige me then? Do you think I would willingly suffer you?"--"I don't

understand you, madam," says Joseph.--"Don't you?" said she, "then you

are either a fool, or pretend to be so; I find I was mistaken in you. So

get you downstairs, and never let me see your face again; your pretended

innocence cannot impose on me."--"Madam," said Joseph, "I would not have

your ladyship think any evil of me. I have always endeavoured to be a

dutiful servant both to you and my master."--"O thou villain!" answered

my lady; "why didst thou mention the name of that dear man, unless to

torment me, to bring his precious memory to my mind?" (and then she

burst into a fit of tears.) "Get thee from my sight! I shall never

endure thee more." At which words she turned away from him; and Joseph

retreated from the room in a most disconsolate condition, and writ that

letter which the reader will find in the next chapter.