The Expedition of Humphry Clinker

296 TOBIAS SMOLLETT
assenting to the candour of his apology, that she rose from table,
and, taking her son by the hand, ‘Come, child, (said she) your
father cannot abide you.’ So saying, she retired with this hopeful
youth, and was followed by her gouvernante: but neither the one
nor the other deigned to take the least notice of the company.
Baynard was exceedingly disconcerted; but I perceived his un-
easiness was tinctured with resentment, and derived a good omen
from this discovery. I ordered the horses to be put to the carriage,
and though he made some efforts to detain us all night, I insisted
upon leaving the house immediately; but, before I went away, I
took an opportunity of speaking to him again in private. I said every
thing I could recollect, to animate his endeavours in shaking off
those shameful trammels. I made no scruple to declare, that his
wife was unworthy of that tender complaisance which he had shewn
for her foibles: that she was dead to all the genuine sentiments of
conjugal affection; insensible of her own honour and interest, and
seemingly destitute of common sense and reflection. I conjured
him to remember what he owed to his father’s house, to his own
reputation, and to his family, including even this unreasonable
woman herself, who was driving on blindly to her own destruction.
I advised him to form a plan for retrenching superfluous expence,
and try to convince the aunt of the necessity for such a reformation,
that she might gradually prepare her niece for its execution; and
I exhorted him to turn that disagreeable piece of formality out of
the house, if he should find her averse to his proposal.
Here he interrupted me with a sigh, observing that such a step
would undoubtedly be fatal to Mrs. Baynard—‘I shall lose all
patience, (cried I), to hear you talk so weakly—Mrs. Baynard’s
fits will never hurt her constitution. I believe in my conscience they
are all affected: I am sure she has no feeling for your distresses;
and, when you are ruined, she will appear to have no feeling for
her own.’ Finally, I took his word and honour, that he would make
an effort, such as I had advised; that he would form a plan of
œconomy, and, if he found it impracticable without my assistance,
he would come to Bath in the winter, where I promised to give him
the meeting, and contribute all in my power to the retrieval of his
affairs—With this mutual engagement we parted, and I shall think
myself supremely happy, if, by my means, a worthy man, whom I
love and esteem, can be saved from misery, disgrace, and despair.
I have only one friend more to visit in this part of the country,