DILEMMAS OF PRIDE.

BY MARGRACIA LOUDON

THE AUTHOR OF FIRST LOVE.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

LONDON:

BULL AND CHURTON, HOLLES STREET.

1833.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.

DILEMMAS OF PRIDE.

CHAPTER I.

We shall here pause for a few moments to give a slight sketch of the principal agent employed by Geoffery in this part of the business, and indeed in the conduct of the whole affair.

In Arden, the neighbouring county town, there lived a solicitor, who, unfortunately for the honour of humanity and his own especial calling, was without exception, the most thorough-paced villain unhanged; nay, many have been hanged who were not half as bad; for this man was not only without remorse of conscience, but also without remorse of heart. His only reason for committing more robberies than murders was, that the former crime was in general more profitable than the latter; but as to who died the lingering death of a broken heart, he cared not, so long as he gained a few pounds by the transaction.

He was known for a mean contemptible fellow, and consequently possessed but little of the confidence of the higher orders, so that when he could catch a gentleman to plunder, it was a sort of prize in the lottery to him; but unfortunate tradesmen in a little way, were his natural prey: to such, when perishing in the gulf of misery, he pretended to stretch a helping hand, but with that very hand assisted in the work of destruction, and finally possessed himself of the wreck of their fortunes. This fellow, by name Fips, had long been Geoffery Arden's right-hand man, and for all his services had invariably been one way or other payed out of Sir Willoughby's pocket. Such was the fitting coadjutor to whom Geoffery applied for that assistance which the present momentous occasion demanded, as the following interview will show without absolutely committing himself.

Fips, who had just dined, was seated in an old-fashioned black-bottomed mahogany arm-chair, which he filled, or rather over-filled, in much the same manner as a feather-bed tucked into the same piece of furniture would have done; and had there been a cord tied round the centre of the said bed as a convenient mode of carriage, it would have bisected its yielding rotundity, just as the single middle button of Mr. Fips's waistcoat did that of the wearer.

With a hand so fat that it could scarcely grasp the decanter, yet trembling from habitual excess, Fips was helping himself to the last glass of the bottle of port with which he had followed up liberal potations of brandy and water, not water and brandy, swallowed during dinner; while the flabby cheeks, double chin, and bottle-nose of the sot, his health being none of the best, partook more of the purple hue than of the lively living red. Beside him sat his only daughter and sole domestic companion, Miss Fips. She was about six-and-twenty, and but for the showy vulgarity of her dress, the unshrinking boldness of her demeanour, and the rouge with which she unnecessarily heightened her complexion, she would have been extremely handsome, her figure being well made and showy, though on rather a large scale; her hair redundant, black, and glossy, and dressed in numberless gigantic bows, which sat à merveille, the tresses of which they were formed being strong in texture as a horse's mane; her eyes were large, dark and bold; her features regular—lips full—teeth large but good—and skin, though coarse, of a snowy white.

"Ha, Fips, how are ye?" said Geoffery entering. He next made his salutations to the lady, with a marked effort of gallantry in his manner.—"So you have been making merry alone, I see, old fellow," he added, turning again to Fips; "and I am