Nightingale, who, in many other instances, was rather too effeminate
in his disposition, had a pretty strong inclination to
tittle-tattle. He had no sooner, therefore, received a full liberty of
speaking from Jones, than he entered upon a long narrative
concerning the lady; which, as it contained many particulars highly to
her dishonour, we have too great a tenderness for all women of
condition to repeat. We would cautiously avoid giving an opportunity
to the future commentators on our works, of making any malicious
application, and of forcing us to be, against our will, the author
of scandal, which never entered into our head.
Jones, having very attentively heard all that Nightingale had to
say, fetched a deep sigh; which the other, observing, cried,
"Heyday! why, thou art not in love, I hope! Had I imagined my
stories would have affected you, I promise you should never have heard
them." "O my dear friend!" cries Jones, "I am so entangled with this
woman, that I know not how to extricate myself. In love, indeed! no,
my friend, but I am under obligations to her, and very great ones.
Since you know so much, I will be very explicit with you. It is owing,
perhaps, solely to her, that I have not, before this, wanted a bit
of bread. How can I possibly desert such a woman? and yet I must
desert her, or be guilty of the blackest treachery to one who deserves
infinitely better of me than she can; a woman, my Nightingale, for
whom I have a passion which few can have an idea of.
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