The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Complete
whom she had been contracted. We exhorted her to wait patiently for
some happy revolution of fortune, and encouraged her with the hope of
Don Diego’s exerting himself effectually in his own defence.
“Meanwhile our worthy landlord was suddenly cut off by death; and his
widow being resolved to retire into her own country, we secretly
embarked in the same ship, and arrived in England about eighteen months
ago. Antonia still continued to pine over the ruin of her house; as she
could hear no tidings of Don Diego, she concluded he was dead, and
mourned with unabating sorrow. In vain I assured her, that, soon as my
own affairs should be adjusted, I would exert my whole endeavours to
find and succour him. She could not imagine that a man of his spirit
and disposition would live so long in obscurity. And her affliction
derived new force from the death of the consul’s widow, with whom she
had lived in the most unbounded intimacy and friendship. From that day,
her health evidently declined. She foresaw her dissolution, and
comforted herself with the hope of seeing her husband and her friend in
a place where no treachery is felt, and no sorrow is known; confident
of my integrity, and the purity of my love, she, in the most pathetic
terms, recommended Serafina to my care.
“Ha! weepest thou, fair excellence, at the remembrance of that tender
scene, when the good Antonia, on the bed of death, joined thy soft hand
to mine, and said, ‘Renaldo, I bequeath this orphan to your love; it is
a sacred pledge, which, if you cherish with due honour and regard,
internal peace and happiness will ever smile within your bosom; but if
you treat it with indifference, dishonour, or neglect, just Heaven will
punish your breach of trust with everlasting disappointments and
disquiet.’
“Signior Don Diego, I see you are moved, and therefore will not dwell
on such distressful circumstances. The excellent Antonia exchanged this
life for a more happy state; and so exquisite was the sorrow of the
tender-hearted Serafina, as to torture me with the apprehension that
she would not long survive her pious mother. How I obeyed the
injunctions of that departing saint, Monimia (for that name she now
assumed) can testify, until that artful serpent Fathom glided into our
mutual confidence, abused our ears, poisoned our unsuspected faith, and
effected that fatal breach, productive of all the misery and vexation
which we have suffered, and which is now so happily expelled.”
“Heaven,” said the Castilian, “hath visited me for the sins and errors
of my youth; yet, such mercy hath been mingled with its chastisements,
I dare not murmur or repine. The tears of penitence and sorrow shall
water my Antonia’s grave; as for Mendoza, I rejoice at his treachery,
by which the obligation of my promise is cancelled, and my honour fully
acquitted. He shall not triumph in his guilt. My services, my
character, and innocence shall soon confront his perfidy, and, I hope,
defeat his interest. The King is just and gracious, nor is my family
and name unknown.”
Here the Jew interposing, presented to him a letter from a person of
consequence at Madrid, whom Joshua had interested in the cause of Don
Diego; that nobleman had already found means to represent the case of
Zelos to his Majesty, who had actually ordered Don Manuel to be
confined, until the injured person should appear to justify himself,
and prosecute his accuser according to the terms of law. At the same
time Don Diego was summoned to present himself before the King within a
limited time, to answer to the charge which Mendoza had brought against
him.
The Spaniard’s heart overflowed with gratitude and joy, when he read
this intimation; he embraced the Jew, who, before Zelos could give
utterance to his thoughts, told him that the Spanish Ambassador at
London, having been prepossessed in his favour, craved the honour of
seeing Don Diego; and that he, Joshua, was ready to conduct him to the
house.
“Then is my heart at rest!” cried the Castilian; “the house of Zelos
once more shall lift up its head. I shall again revisit my native
country with honour, and abase the villain who hath soiled my fame! O
my children! this day is replete with such joy and satisfaction, as I
did not think had been in the power of Heaven to grant, without the
interposition of a miracle! To you, Renaldo, to you illustrious lady,
and to these worthy gentlemen, am I indebted for the restoration of
that for which alone I wish to live; and when my heart ceases to retain
the obligation, may I forfeit the name of a Castilian, and scorn and
dishonour be my portion.”
Perhaps all Europe could not produce another company so happy as that
which now sat down to dinner in the house of Madam Clement, whose own
benevolent heart was peculiarly adapted for such enjoyment. The lovers
feasted their eyes more than their appetite, by a tender intercourse of
glances, which needed not the slow interpretation of speech; while the
Spaniard regarded them alternately with looks of wonder and paternal
joy, and every individual surveyed the all-deserving pair with
admiration and esteem.
Serafina taking the advantage of this general satisfaction, when the
heart, softened into complacency, deposits every violent thought: “I
must now,” said she, “try my interest with Renaldo. The good company
shall bear witness to my triumph or repulse. I do not ask you to
forgive, but to withhold your vengeance from the wretched Fathom. His
fraud, ingratitude, and villany are, I believe, unrivalled; yet his
base designs have been defeated; and Heaven perhaps hath made him the
involuntary instrument for bringing our constancy and virtue to the
test; besides, his perfidy is already punished with the last degree of
human misery and disgrace. The doctor, who has traced him in all his
conduct and vicissitudes of fortune, will draw a picture of his present
wretchedness, which, I doubt not, will move your compassion, as it hath
already excited mine.”
The generous hostess was ready to enforce this charitable proposal with
all her eloquence, when Melvil, with a look that well expressed his
magnanimity of love, replied, “Such a boon becomes the gentle Serafina!
O! every moment furnishes me with fresh matter to admire the virtues of
thy soul. If thou, whose tender heart hath been so rent with misery and
anguish, canst intercede for thy tormentor, who now suffers in his
turn, shall I refuse to pardon the miserable wretch! No, let me glory
in imitating the great example, and solicit Don Diego in behalf of the
same miscreant whose perfidious barbarity cost him such intolerable
woe.” “Enough,” cried the Castilian, “I have disclaimed the vindictive
principles of a Spaniard; and leave the miserable object to the sting
of his own conscience, which, soon or late, will not fail to avenge the
wrongs we have sustained from his deceit.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
THE HISTORY DRAWS NEAR A PERIOD.
Universal was the applause which they acquired by this noble sacrifice
of their resentment. The afternoon was spent in the utmost harmony and
good-humour; and at the earnest solicitation of Renaldo, whose fancy
still harboured the apprehensions of another separation, Don Diego
consented that the indissoluble knot should be tied between that young
gentleman and Serafina in two days, and the place appointed for the
ceremony was the very church where they had been restored to the arms
of each other.
The lovely bride, with a silent blush that set her lover’s heart on
fire, submitted to this determination, in consequence of which the
company was bespoke for that auspicious hour, and the evening being
pretty far advanced, they took leave of the ladies, and retired to
their respective homes; Don Diego and his future son-in-law being
reconducted to their lodgings, in the coach of the Jew, who, taking an
opportunity of being alone with Melvil, observed that it would be
necessary on this occasion to supply the Castilian with a sum of money,
in order to support his dignity and independence, in furnishing
Serafina with everything suitable to her rank and merit; and that he
would willingly accommodate him, provided he knew how to propose it so
as to give no offence to his punctilious disposition.
Renaldo, thanking him for this generous anticipation, advised him to
solicit the Spaniard’s correspondence in the way of business, and to
put the whole on the footing of his own interest; by which means Don
Diego’s delicacy could sustain no affront. Fraught with this
instruction, the Israelite desired a private audience of the Castilian,
in which, after an apology for the freedom of his demand, “Signior Don
Diego,” said he, “as your fortune hath been so long embezzled by your
adversary in Spain, and your correspondence with that country entirely
cut off, it is not to be supposed that your finances are at present in
such a condition as to maintain the splendour of your family. Count de
Melvil’s whole fortune is at your command; and had not he been afraid
of giving umbrage to the peculiar delicacy of your sentiments, he would
have pressed you to use it for your convenience. For my own part, over
and above the inclination I have to serve Don Diego, I consult my own
private advantage in desiring you to accept my service on this
occasion. Money is the chief commodity in which I deal, and, if you
honour me with your commands, I shall be a gainer by my obedience.”
Don Diego replied, with a smile that denoted how well he understood the
meaning of this address, “Surely, Signior, I am bound by the strongest
ties to exert my utmost endeavours for your advantage; and I pray God
this your proposal may have that issue. I am well acquainted with the
Count’s generosity and refined notions of honour; and too much obliged
by him already, to hesitate with punctilious reserve in accepting his
future assistance. Nevertheless, since you have contrived a scheme for
removing all scruples of that sort, I shall execute it with pleasure;
and, in the form of business, you shall have all the security I can
give for what shall be necessary to answer my present occasions.”
The preliminaries being thus settled, Joshua advanced for his use a
thousand pounds, for which he would take neither bond, note, nor
receipt, desiring only that the Castilian would mark it in his own
pocket-book, that the debt might appear, in case any accident should
befall the borrower. Although the Spaniard had been accustomed to the
uncommon generosity of Melvil, he could not help wondering at this
nobleness of behaviour, so little to be expected from any merchant,
much less from a Jewish broker.
While this affair was on the anvil, Renaldo, who could no longer
withhold the communication of his happiness from his sister and
relations in Germany, took up the pen, and, in a letter to his
brother-in-law, recounted all the circumstances of the surprising turn
of fate which he had experienced since his arrival in England. He
likewise related the story of Don Diego, informed them of the day
appointed for his nuptials, and entreated the Major to make a journey
to London with his wife; or, if that should be impracticable, to come
as far as Brussels, where they should be met by him and his Serafina.
There was now but one day between him and the accomplishment of his
dearest wish, and that was spent in procuring a licence, and adjusting
the preparations for the grand festival. Don Diego in the forenoon
visited Madam Clement, to whom he repeated his warm acknowledgments of
her bounty and maternal affection to his daughter, and presented to
Serafina bank notes to the amount of five hundred pounds, to defray the
necessary expense for her wedding ornaments.
All the previous steps being taken for the solemnisation of this