In the situation that he and his mistress were in at this time,
there were scarce any grounds for him to hope that he should hear
any good news; yet he was as impatient to see Mrs. Honour as if he had
expected she would bring him a letter with an assignation in it from
Sophia, and bore the disappointment as ill. Whether this impatience
arose from that natural weakness of the human mind, which makes it
desirous to know the worst, and renders uncertainty the most
intolerable of pains; or whether he still flattered himself with
some secret hopes, we will not determine. But that it might be the
last, whoever has loved cannot but know. For of all the powers
exercised by this passion over our minds, one of the most wonderful is
that of supporting hope in the midst of despair. Difficulties,
improbabilities, nay, impossibilities, are quite overlooked by it;
so that to any man extremely in love, may be applied what Addison says
of Caesar,
The Alps, and Pyrenaeans, sink before him!
Yet it is equally true, that the same passion will sometimes make
mountains of molehills, and produce despair in the midst of hope;
but these cold fits last not long in good constitutions. Which
temper Jones was now in, we leave the reader to guess, having no exact
information about it; but this is certain, that he had spent two hours
in expectation, when, being unable any longer to conceal his
uneasiness, he retired to his room; where his anxiety had almost
made him frantick, when the following letter was brought him from Mrs.
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