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The Expedition of Humphry Clinker

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170 TOBIAS SMOLLETT<br />

Mr. Grieve had been as solicitous about getting money, as he has<br />

been in performing all the duties <strong>of</strong> a primitive Christian, Fy would<br />

not have hung so long upon his hands.’ ‘What is her name?’ said<br />

I. ‘Sixteen years ago (answered the vicar) I christened her by the<br />

names <strong>of</strong> Seraphina Melvilia.’ ‘Ha! what! how! (cried the count<br />

eagerly) sure, you said Seraphina Melvilia.’ ‘I did; (said he) Mr.<br />

Grieve told me those were the names <strong>of</strong> two noble persons abroad,<br />

to whom he had been obliged for more than life.’<br />

<strong>The</strong> count, without speaking another syllable, rushed into the<br />

parlour, crying, ‘This is your god-daughter, my dear.’ Mrs. Grieve,<br />

then seizing the countess by the hand, exclaimed with great agita-<br />

tion, ‘O madam!—O sir!—I am—I am your poor Elinor.—This<br />

is my Seraphina Melvilia.—O child! these are the count and<br />

countess <strong>of</strong> Melville, the generous—the glorious benefactors <strong>of</strong><br />

thy once unhappy parents.’<br />

<strong>The</strong> countess rising from her seat, threw her arms about the<br />

neck <strong>of</strong> the amiable Seraphina, and clasped her to her breast with<br />

great tenderness, while she herself was embraced by the weeping<br />

mother. This moving scene was completed by the entrance <strong>of</strong><br />

Grieve himself, who falling on his knees before the count, ‘Behold<br />

(said he) a penitent, who at length can look upon his patron without<br />

shrinking.’ ‘Ah, Ferdinand! (cried he, raising and folding him in<br />

his arms) the play-fellow <strong>of</strong> my infancy—the companion <strong>of</strong> my<br />

youth!—Is it to you then I am indebted for my life?’ ‘Heaven has<br />

heard my prayer, (said the other) and given me an opportunity to<br />

prove myself not altogether unworthy <strong>of</strong> your clemency and pro-<br />

tection.’ He then kissed the hand <strong>of</strong> the countess, while monsieur<br />

de Melville saluted his wife and lovely daughter, and all <strong>of</strong> us were<br />

greatly affected by this pathetic recognition.<br />

In a word, Grieve was no other than Ferdinand count Fathom,<br />

whose adventures were printed many years ago. Being a sincere<br />

convert to virtue, he had changed his name, that he might elude<br />

the enquiries <strong>of</strong> the count, whose generous allowance he deter-<br />

mined to forego, that he might have no dependence but upon his<br />

own industry and moderation. He had accordingly settled in this<br />

village as a practitioner in surgery and physic, and for some years<br />

wrestled with all the miseries <strong>of</strong> indigence, which, however, he and<br />

his wife had borne with the most exemplary resignation. At length,<br />

by dint <strong>of</strong> unwearied attention to the duties <strong>of</strong> his pr<strong>of</strong>ession, which<br />

he exercised with equal humanity and success, he had acquired a

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