The Expedition of Humphry Clinker

340 TOBIAS SMOLLETT
that required a great deal of exercise, from which I hope to derive
some benefit—Understanding, by the greatest accident in the
world, that Mr. Baynard’s wife was dangerously ill of a pleuritic
fever, I borrowed Dennison’s post-chaise, and went a-cross the
country to his habitation, attended only by Loyd (quondam
Clinker) on horseback.—As the distance is not above thirty miles,
I arrived about four in the afternoon, and meeting the physician
at the door, was informed that his patient had just expired.—I was
instantly seized with a violent emotion, but it was not grief—The
family being in confusion, I ran up stairs into the chamber, where,
indeed, they were all assembled—The aunt stood wringing her
hands in a kind of stupefaction of sorrow, but my friend acted all
the extravagancies of affliction—He held the body in his arms, and
poured forth such a lamentation, that one would have thought he
had lost the most amiable consort and valuable companion upon
earth.
Affection may certainly exist independent of esteem; nay, the
same object may be lovely in one respect, and detestable in another
—The mind has a surprising faculty of accommodating, and even
attaching itself, in such a manner, by dint of use, to things that are
in their own nature disagreeable, and even pernicious, that it can-
not bear to be delivered from them without reluctance and regret.
Baynard was so absorbed in his delirium, that he did not perceive
me when I entered, and desired one of the women to conduct the
aunt into her own chamber.—At the same time I begged the tutor
to withdraw the boy, who stood gaping in a corner, very little
affected with the distress of the scene.—These steps being taken,
I waited till the first violence of my friend’s transport was abated,
then disengaged him gently from the melancholy object, and led
him by the hand into another apartment; though he struggled so
hard, that I was obliged to have recourse to the assistance of his
valet de chambre.—In a few minutes, however, he recollected him-
self, and folding me in his arms, ‘This (cried he) is a friendly office,
indeed!—I know not how you came hither; but, I think, Heaven
sent you to prevent my going distracted.—O Matthew! I have lost
my dear Harriet!—my poor, gentle, tender creature, that loved me
with such warmth and purity of affection—my constant com-
panion of twenty years!—She’s gone—she’s gone for ever!—
Heaven and earth! where is she?—Death shall not part us!’
So saying, he started up, and could hardly be withheld from