'
The countess rising from her scat threw her arms about the neck
of the amiable Seraphina, and clasped her to her breast with
great tenderness, while she herself was embraced by the weeping
mother. This moving scene was completed by the entrance of Grieve
himself, who falling on his knees before the count, 'Behold (said
he) a penitent, who at length can look upon his patron without
shrinking.' 'Ah, Ferdinand! (cried he, raising and folding him in
his arms) the playfellow of my infancy -- the companion of my
youth! -- Is it to you then I am indebted for my life?' 'Heaven has
heard my prayer (said the other), and given me an opportunity to
prove myself not altogether unworthy of your clemency and
protection.' He then kissed the hand of the countess, while
monsieur de Melville saluted his wife and lovely daughter, and
all of us were greatly affected by this pathetic recognition.
In a word, Grieve was no other than Ferdinand count Fathom, whose
adventures were printed many years ago. Being a sincere convert
to virtue, he had changed his name, that he might elude the
enquiries of the count, whose generous allowance he determined to
forego, that he might have no dependence but upon his own
industry and moderation.
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