storation 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 S