Dilemmas of pride
Dilemmas | Loudon, Mrs. (Margracia)
'3lte^^fe**<&-i -^^jnbil ^^fc^Ty-l'K^ ^¥^l\ y5^^/4lj ^~ ^pE^^K^ Jts^^o^z:^^^ ^■ ^wH^^flp £ -^"^Ht^^^ft^ 5 jJ^jil^ ^^"'^I E) R.ARY "• OF THL UNIVLRSITY Of ILLINOIS aa3 L926d v.3 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. BY THE AUTHOR OF FIRST LOVE. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. in. LONDON: BULL AND CIlURTOxN, IIOLLES STREET. 1833. LUCxL y^3 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 bu- sines, and indeed in the conduct of the whole aflfair. In Arden, the neighbouring county town, there lived a sohcitor, who, unfortunately for the honour of humanity and his own especial VOL. III. B 4, DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. -calling, was without exception, the most thorough-paced villain unhanged; nay, many- have been hanged who were not half as bad ; for this man w^as 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 DILEMMAS OF PKIDE. 3 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 wTeck 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 him- self. Fips, who had just dmed, was seated in an b2 4 DILEMMAS OF PlilDE. old-fashioned black-bottomed mahogany ami- 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 conve- nient 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, swallow^ed during DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. O 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 compa- nion, Miss Fips. She was about six-and- twenty, and but for the showy vulgarity of her dress, the unshrinking boldness of her de- meanour, and the rouge with which she un- necessarily 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 a merveUkj the tresses of which tliey were formed being strong in tex- 6 DILEMMAS OF PKIDE. ture 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 GeofTery en- tering. 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, turn- ing again to Fips ; " and I am just come in time for the empty bottle." *' Never mind, we'll have it changed for a full one. Come, sit ye down. Deb. go send us in a bottle of claret. Strange news afloat, Mr. Arden ! " he added, as Deborah disappeared. " Stranger perhaps than you imagine, Fips,'* DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 7 replied GeofFery with well affected solemnity* " Indeed, the only conclusion at which it is possible to arrive, after an impartial review of the circmnstances,'' he pursued, lowering his voice, " is too horrible to be thought of. For myself, I am as you will allov/ very painfully situated. If o. ^ most foul atid unnatural murder* has been committed, it would be dastardly and contemptible in me, the nearest in blood, to suffer the murderer to escape, merely from a want of activity and decision in seeking out and bring^ino; together sufficient evidence. Yet on the other hand, should my cousin, as I sin- cerely hope he may, prove innocent, it might appear invidious in me, the next heir, to have evinced what, though but a respect for 9 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. justice, TOight be ' misconstrued into a too great •willingness to find him guilty.'' Here the entrance of the claret and the consequent discussion of its merits for a time interrupted the conversation. '^ The object of my visit/' said Geoffery, when the wine had been pronounced excellent, *' is to crave once more that which I have so often before found usefid — your friendly advice and assistance. What in fact I at present stand most in need of, is a friend whose dis- interested exertions should ensure the ends of justice being answered, without my appearing to take an active part in this truly shocking affair." ^* Humph," said Fips, who by all this as DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. V perfectly understood as tliougli it had been said in as many words, that the secret service required of him, and for which, if successful, he should no doubt be munificently rewarded, was to hang Sir Alfred Arden, whether inno- cent or guilty ; and by so doing, give GeofFery, who was the inevitable heir, by a strict male entail, possession of the title and estates. Geoflfery proceeded to give Fips an account of the circumstances connected with the me- lancholy event, in a manner ingeniously cal- culated to exhibit those features of the case most susceptible of exaggeration or misrepre- sentation; he also recapitulated his own exa- mination of the several servants, thus giving Fips an opportunity of judging what wit- b3 10 DILEMMAS OF PllIDE. nesses might, if necessary, be found most available. " For that matter/* he added, " if you could find an opportunity yourself of conversing with these people, it might be desirable ; you would understand the subject more fully/' Something was next said of the impropriety of suffering the public mind, and, through so all-pervading a medium, future judges and juries to be prejudiced by the general high character and seeming amiability of Sir Alfred, for such qualities were no palliation of the crime, if indeed, as he feared there could be no doubt, it had been committed. There was another point of infinite im-= portance, which was, that the business should DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. II not be allowed to pass over without any in vestigation, as might be the case, if, for one reason or other, every one thought it necessaiy to be supine. He would himself be glad, if possible, to avoid taking an active part, yet something must be done; he should never for- give himself if the time for investigation were allowed to pass by, and the waves of oblivion to close over so shocking a transaction. While, on the other hand, if Sir Alfred w^ere perfectly innocent, which, notwithstanding appearances, he should still be too happy to find the case, it would be the most cruel injustice to him, not to wipe out this foul stain from his re- putation by a full and fair inquiry. He would have little reason to thank the friends, who, 12" DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. from false delicacy, had suffered the proper occasion for so doing to pass over. At the same time it was very desirable that the necessary steps should be taken with the greatest possible delicacy; no one should ap- pear to entertain a suspicion mitil the force of evidence should" compel conviction. '' This is the line of conduct/' continued Geoffery, " which I mean to observe with Sir Alfred, who, I know, has himself at present no apprehension that any suspicions are afloat. He gives out, it seems, and expects the public to believe, that his brother died of a fit of apoplexy. The Doctor, it is true, did allow that the symptoms were such as might have attended a sudden seizure of the kind." DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 13 To keep his unsuspecting kinsman as long as possible in the dark by this pretended delicacy, was, as vre have said, a part of Geoffery's hellish plot. He had contrived, under the mask of sympathy, to put a few important questions to Alfred, and the answers to these had been such, as very materially to increase his hopes of ultimate success. But he knew that if Alfred were informed that such a surmise, as that of his having wilfully murdered his poor brother, had found a place in the mind of any being upon earth, he would of course immediately come forward, and court the fullest investio-ation. And thouo-h it did not follow that even this must clear him, his avoiding inquiry, as GeofFery knew he would 14 DILEMMAS OF PRIDIT. continue to do, while under his present im- pression, would furnish, when connected with the circumstances that must come out in evi- dence, a strong presumption of guilt. " Humph ! humph ! " uttered from time to time with the intonation of a fat pig wallowing in mud, had been the cautious comment of the sagacious Mr. Fips, during this length- ened tirade, except indeed that an invo- luntary exclamation of " No ! That's good !'^ had broken from him on the mention of the piece of paper marked " Poison'^ having fallen from within the breast of Sir Alfred'*s waistcoat, and again, " That'^s better still, " accompanied by a resounding stroke of his clenched hand on the table, when Geoffery came to his having DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 15 himself seen the missing packet of arsenic in Sir Alfred's escritoire. *^ I am always happy to oblige you, Mr. Arden," at length commenced Mr. Fips; '^ but after all, this is a kind of thing which cannot be said to be much in the way of my business ; without, indeed, it could be contrived that I was to be attorney for the prosecution ; for that there will be a prosecution there can be no doubt from what you tell me. I had heard all before, certainly in the way of report, but I had no idea it could be at all true ; — I had no notion you had so good a case. GeoSery undertook to arrange that Fips should be the attorney employed. " You have often, Fips," he continued, "conducted business 1§ DILEMMAS GF PRIDE. for me in the most liberal and friendly manner, when it was not in my power to remunerate your services as they merited ; should I how- ever have the misfortune — for misfortune I must call it, taking all the circumstances into con- sideration— to succeed to the Arden estates on the present occasion, to repay amply all your past disinterested friendship shall be my first care. You shall not only have the agency, which is no trifle, but a handsome annuity be- side; and that not only for your own life, but also secured to your daughter ; unless indeed, means can be devised," he added, smiling, " of identifying her interest with those of the owner of the estates themselves. I have hitherto been deterred,'' he added with DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 17 an affectation of great candour, " from men- tioning this subject by my poverty, and conse- quent inability to marry ; but my admiration of Miss Fips, I think you must have seen." Fips was of course profuse in his thanks for the intended honour; not that he felt un- bounded confidence in the sincerity of the 50/- disant lover, of whose pride and ambition he was perfectly aware : he did not however de- spair, considering the present aspect of affairs of having his client in a short time so com- pletely in his power, as to be able to enforce the fulfilment of any hopes which the latter might atpresent think it good policy to hold out. And having now a sufficient ^^ spur" of self-interest '^ to prick the sides of his intent," he entered into 18 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. the business in good earnest, took down notes of hints to be followed up, reports to be cir- culated, persons to be called upon, and espe- cially an embassy of a most delicate nature to the coroner. That functionary was to be requested on the part of Mr. GeofFery Arden, to make use of the information which he felt it his imperative duty to convey to him, without no ticing Mr. Arden's interference, in considera- tion of the very painful situation in which the latter found himself placed ; and in short, come forward in his official capacity as feeling himself called upon so to do, by the nature of the reports which had gone abroad. After this preamble, Mr. Fips was to inform the coroner at length DILEMMAS OF PRIDE* 19 of every suspicious circumstance ; to indicate to him where the missing paper of arsenic was to be found ; and to request that he would require the attendance of the medical gentlemen, and enforce the opening of the body, which had hitherto been resisted. All this was followed up with hypocritical declarations, that as no- thing short of the most positive proofs could induce Mr. Geoffery Arden to believe his cousin guilty, he could not, though feeling investigation a duty, endure the idea of standing forward his accuser, while there remained a possibility of his being proved innocent. Each time Fips had occasion to speak, whether in question or reply, while thus receiving his instructions, he w^ould commit some seem- 20 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. ing inadvertency of expression, almost remov- ing the flimsy veil from the nature of the ser- vices required of him; and whenever he did this, he would look full in Geoffery's face. But that wary tactician as often dropped his eye- lids, and replied, wuth hypocritical calmness, in the same key of caution in which he had com- menced. At length Fips pronounced it time for him to go out ; and by the third effort, succeeding in disenoao-ino; himself from his arm-chair: then, with some difficulty bringing together the lower buttons and button-holes of his waistcoat, which, while in a sitting position, gaped full half a yard asunder, he departed, telling Geof- fery, he might if he pleased, now that he had DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 21 talked business with him over a glass of wine, take the opportunity of the hour or two he should be absent, to talk love to his daughter, over a cup of tea. 22 CHAPTER II. As Colonel Trump says, "There is nothing forbidding to any man, about a fine woman." GeofFery, therefore, now that he had placed more serious concerns in such excellent hands, had no objection to the recreation of a ttte-a- tite on the footing of a received lover, with a young woman, whose personal attractions were above mediocrity, and whose modesty was not likely to be troublesome ; while from her infe- riority of station, her ideas of the high honour DILEMMAS OF PEIDE. 23 coDferred on her bv the s^entleman's addresses were calculated to smooth the \^ ay to advances, which an equal might have thought impertinent, or at least premature. When, therefore, INIr. Fips returned, after an absence of full tv/o hours, he found the candle- wicks ominously long, and neither the tea- things nor the lover sent away. Yet GeofFery had not the most distant thought of making Miss Fips his wife ; unless, indeed, circumstances compelled him so entirely to com- mit himself to Mr. Fips, as to be completely in Jiis power, and so make it a matter of prudence to secure his secrecy, by \\hat, with too many, is the only infallible bond of good faith, identity of interest. But, if on the other hand, he should 24 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. be so fortunate as not to be obliged to make use of Fips, more than as a tool, with which to work up tlie material in the way of extraordinary combinations of circmnstances that fate seemed so liberally to have provided ; and that, by the operation of those so worked, he should succeed in obtaining what had so long been the object, though for many years back the hopeless one, of his ambition — the Arden estates, Fips having nothing more to bring against him than surmises that the acquisition was not disagreeable to him — he should set at nought the tears of Miss Fips, and merely keep Fips's tongue at bay, with the agency at will : and as that was a thing which some one must have, it was an ex- cellent way of securing the fellow's services first, DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 25 and even his good behaviour afterwards, on very reasonable terms. For the present, however, while all w as yet at stake ; while there was no saying what villany might be necessary to carry him through; it was highly politic, to give Fips, at the outset, a motive, which would make him ready to perform any service that might be required of him. Geoffery's calculations were perfectly just: Fips had indeed been indefatigable ; and, during the two hours he had been out, had not only performed his dehcate mission to the coroner, with consummate skill ; but had contrived to drop in at innumerable houses, and, on pretext of asking the news, to give circulation to many evil reports and wicked surmises. He gossiped VOL. III. C 26 DIXEIOIAS OF PRIDE. away, in particular, about there having existed but little cordiality between the brothers of late, in consequence of an unfortunate rivalship ; in which, too, he said it must be confessed that Sir Alfred was very ill-treated. And the lady was an heiress too ; so that Sir Alfred being a younger brother, the match was a great object to him. He had been accepted, in fact (the lawyer declared that he had it on the best authority), when Sir Willoughby, most un- generously interfered, and by the strength of his purse, earned off the prize. 27 CHAPTER III. In consequence of the message of Geoffery, as conveyed by his unprincipled tool, Mr. Fips, together with the reports already in circulation, the coroner felt it his duty to visit Arden in his official capacity. Alfred had hitherto, as we have stated, in- dulged his mournful feelings, by remaining en- tirely secluded. He had given the necessary orders for the fimeral, on that scale of magnificence, which the c 2 28 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE, rank, but still more the immense fortune of the deceased called for; and was beginning to flatter himself, that his endeavours to prevent the idea of a suicide becoming prevalent had been suc- cessful, and that there would be no unpleasant interference. On being apprized, however, of the arrival of the coroner, he again felt some uneasiness on this head. He knew that the suspicion he had himself so long entertained, of Willoughby's liability to de- rangement, had been ever buried in his own bosom. He even knew, strange as it may seem that such should be the privilege granted to affection, that his brother, though he loved him better than any one else in the world, had never been DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 29 half so odd and inconsistent in temper, towards any one, as towards himself; and still more, that even latterly, since the actual presence of de- rangement had to Alfred been clearly evident, yet, from the turn it had taken, of seemingly ex- uberant spirits, it had been apparent only to the anxious, watchful, constant companion, which was himself; and was not of a nature to be seen through by the careless apprehensions of servants, during merely casual attendance ; but, on the contrary, was rather calculated to con- vey to them the idea that their master enjoyed more than his usual health and spirits. Alto- gether, then, it rested on his own single, unsup- ported evidence, to prove that his brother had been deranged, and was therefore entitled to 3^ DILEMMAS OF PRIDE.' Christian burial. He was probably not aware, how much the admission of insanity in those cases, is, in general, matter of form. And little did he think, that it was his own life and repu- tation which were at stake, and that the preser- vation of the one, and. the restoration of the other, rested also on his own single, unsupported evidence : nay, that every thing he had ever generously or kindly done, to hide the infirmities, or spare the feelings of others, would now be ranged in evidence against himself. The coroner, in consequence of the secret information with which he had been supplied, came provided with a warrant to search for the missing packet of poison. His first step was, to demand Sir Alfred's keys; his next, a request DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 31 to be shown Sir Alfred's escritoire ; on opening which, he drew forth, to the evident horror of all present, the paper of arsenic. He held it on the open palm of his extended hand, for some mo- ments; looking round, as he did so, with a countenance of great solemnity, and, to do him justice, of sorrow. Then, delivering the packet into safe keeping, lie proceeded, by virtue of his official authority, to require that the body of the deceased should be opened. So slow was Alfred in suspecting the truth, that he still believed the coroner's sole view was to ascertam whether or not his brother had put a period to his own existence. He was, however, now obliged to submit to the required examination, the result of which was, a unani- 32 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE, mous opinion on the part of the medical men present, that Sir Willoughby had died from the effects of poison, probably arsenic, but that this point might be placed beyond a doubt, the contents of the stomach were reserved to be subjected to the proper tests^ The coroner then holding his inquest in the very library in which the melancholy event had taken place, the servants, and all persons connected or supposed to be connected with the affair were severally examined. Doctor Harman, on being required so to do, produced the fatal scrap of paper which he had seen fall from within the breast of Sir Alfred's waistcoat, and the actual arsenic which, by the test of reduction he had obtained from the sediment in the glass DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 33 that Sir Alfred had attempted to linse in his presence. The packet of arsenic was examined : it was perceived that a portion of its outer en- velope had been torn away, the torn part was compared with the piece so seen to fall from the breast of Sir Alfred. The fitting together of every irregularity of the sundered portions, the texture of the material, the peculiar cha- racters, being those of print yet done with a pen, in which the two words, " Arsenic j Poison," were distinctly legible, the one on the one part, the other on the other, all clearly proved the smaller piece of paper to have once been a part of that which still contained the arsenic. The an- swers of the persons examined then went on to prove the various facts of the glasses having c3 34 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. been wiped the moment before they were brought in — of the impossibility from the situ- ation of the arsenic, of any portion of it having fallen accidentally into either of them — of Sir Alfred having been seen in the afternoon coming from the saddle-room alone — of his previous knowledge where the arsenic lay — of the brothers having supped together, and no third person having entered the room from the time the tray had been carried in, till the alarm had been given by Sir Alfred, and Sir Willough- by found in the agonies of death — of the order for antidotes — ^the attempt to rinse the glass, &c. &c. &c. — and, finally, of Sir Alfred's having since refused to allow the body to be opened. DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 36 Although it was easily evident to all, but Sir Alfred himself, that the tendency of this examination was to prove him the wilful mur- derer of his brother, so remote was the appre hension of such a suspicion from his pure, ex- alted, and preoccupied thoughts, that he was long, indeed, in comprehending the nature of the proceedings. When, however, it became no longer possible to avoid drawing from all that was passing, the too evident conclusion to which every question and reply directly led, his horror was little short of that with which he would have contemplated the actual com- mission of the crime, had some fiend pos- sessed the power of requiring of him such a service. 36 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE, We shall not make any attempt to describe the outraged feelmgs of our hero on this afflict- ing occasion; but simply state the result of the proceedings, which was, that the coroner felt it his painful duty to commit Sir Alfred, 37 CHAPTER IV. The committal of Sir Alfred Arden for the murder of his twin brother occupied, of course, the attention of the whole country, and became for a time, almost the sole topic of conversation. The very enormity of the crime would, with many, have been a sufficient reason for disbe- lieving the guilt of the accused ; particularly when his amiable temper, gentle manners, and honourable character w^ere taken into considera- tion; but the malignity which was layed at the 38 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. root of the story at its earliest promulgation, accompanied the ramifications of report in every direction. Surmises v/ere ingeniously mingled with facts ; motives confidently attributed to the simplest and most innocent actions, as v^eW as to those which unfortunately had a suspicious appearance ; and ready-made opinions, prejudg- ing the case, were artfully scattered abroad, to be picked up by the many who wanted the power or the habit of thinking for themselves. Thus, though the personal friends of our hero flocked around him, offering him their ut- most support, and refusing to give credit to any allegations derogatory to his honour, still among the indifferent and the shghtly acquainted, an almost universal cry of consternation and hor DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 39 ror was got up. People moralized about the temptation of great riches, quoted scripture to the same effect, but said the passage ought to have been translated, " It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a man who covets riches to enter into the kino'dom of God." Others, in a more sentimental strain, spoke of the parties being not only brothers, but twin brothers ; and dwelt upon the great aflfection Sir Willoughby had always shown to Sir Alfred ! recounted every exaggerated particular of the rivalship ; descanted on jealousy, and repeated from history, ancient] and modern, numberless instances of crimes of the blackest die, of which that passion, from the commence- ment of the world to the present day, had been the fruitful source. 40 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. Here the report of Sir Alfred having been very ill-treated in the business, had its effect ; and was adduced, though not, of course, in extenuation of such a crime ; yet, as accounting for it on principles which experience acknow- ledged. What passion so savage as revenge; what revenge so dire as that which is born of jea- lousy ! Mr. Fips, as a perfectly disinterested person, had, on one pretext or other, contrived to have some conversation with most of Sir Willoughby's servants, and in the course of such conversation, to insinuate the suggestions, and induce the re- plies, that best suited his purpose ; while with long words, long faces, and terrific-sounding tech- nicalities, he managed to arouse their selfish fears. DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 41 to a degree which banished all better feelings. Then he would shake his head, and allowing his double chin to hang with hypocritical de- spondency, most devoutly hope that poor Sir Alfred might be found innocent. " In that case/' he would add, " it will go hard with some of you, for the poison did not get into the glass without hands ; and more likely, I say, to be by any other hands, than those of his own brother. By arts like these, instead of the affectionate respect for our hero, the indignant rejection of the idea of its being possible that he could have committed such a crime, which had else been the spontaneous sentiments of all the household, some were unconsciously rendered almost willino; to hear their once be- 42 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. loved young master proved guilty, as the only means of clearing and saving themselves. Such thoughts, however, naturally produced an in- ward discontent, that, in its turn, gave to their outward demeanour a sullenness and gloom, which had a most baneful effect on the judg- ments of all with whom they came in contact ; for it seemed to those who knew not how it had been produced, to indicate a secret conviction of the guilt of their master. A thousand times each day was the butler asked by some one of the party assembled in the housekeeper's room at Arden, if he were sure the glasses were quite clean when he took them into the library. Of course he always declared they were^ on which, another DILEMMAS OF PRIDE, 43 of the conclave, in a stage whisper, and with a face of mystery, would follow it up, by saying, '' Well, and from that, till we were all called in to see him m the agonies of death, there was no one near the room but their two selves/' " And wasn't the sediment the Doctor found in the bottom of the glass, arsenic ? '' observed a third. " And didn't he offer to rinse the glass ? " a fourth would ask ; " and what could that be for?" '* And so fond of one another as they used to be when they were boys!" ejaculated a fifth. 44 DILEMMAS OF PllIDE. " It's never been for the estate," said one of the women, and the rest of the female committee agreed with her, that it was owing to both brothers fixing their fancy on the same lady, and that Sir Alfred, that was the hand- somest gentleman of the two by far, could not abide beins: turned off for him that had the fortune. There was many a young man, they observed, that had been the death of the girl that he was fond of, sooner than she should leave him, to go with another. " And to give it to him at supper-time, too,'* said the gardener, who was a great poli- tician, " thinking it would be put into the news- paper ' found dead in his bed,' and so hear no more of it." DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 45 The old butler could not endure all this. and was so irritated by it, that he would have quitted the house, but that Lady Arden was expected. Poor Lewin, who had long- been failing, was overw^helmed by the blow; lie became almost childish, at least quite lost his memory, for though he wept in- cessantly, he scarcely seemed to know vrhy — sometimes speaking of Sir Willoughby as still alive, and sometimes of both brothers as already dead. While at other times, he would attempt to play on the harp, as though nothing had happened, and seem to think it a great hardship, when, from respect to decorum, he was checked by the other ser- vants. 46 DILEMMAS OF PKIDE. Whenever this occurred, he would sit for hours sounding, one by one, smgle strings, as if by stealth, with the silent tears of wounded vanity rolling down his cheeks, fan- cying, poor old man, that it was his music that was despised. Thus, ever ready to poison joy, or add bit- terness to grief. Pride, that arch enemy of our peace, still survives, when the mind is else a wreck. Pride is surely that evil spirit portrayed in scripture as '^ wandering to and fro, seek- ing whom he may devour j" that is, whom he may make wicked — whom he may make miserable ; deceiving even the generous of heart, by exalting them in their own opinion. DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 47 till their pride requires of others a homage which ihepride of others will not yield ; and so, resent- ing the supposed deficiency, they cease to be in charity with all men. 48 CHAPTER V. Lady Arden was in town, and busied in preparations for the marriage of Madeline, when Alfred's letter, announcing the sudden death of Sir Willoughby, reached her. The signs and trappings of approaching festivity were, of course, changed for those of mourning. But who shall describe the consternation of this affectionate mother, when the astounding intelligence was brought to her, that her DILEMMAS OF PIUDE. 49 child, her darhng, her favourite, now her only son, was actually committed to a felon's prison, accused of the murder of his brother. It was some moments before her compre- hension could gi-asp the whole extent of the horrors connected with such an intimation. She was bewildered, she seemed to be in a trance ; yet, through it all, her own perfect knowledge of the utter impossibility of such an accusation having the slightest foundation in truth, was a kind of upholding to her spirit, inasmuch as it appeared also impossible to her mind, that any being could give reception to such a thought. Unable to speak con- nectedly, she alternated the expressions, '' No, no Oh no," continually, while looking VOL, III, D 50 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. round her with a strange wild eye, that seemed to flash, yet saw not. The want she felt was to be with her son ; but though she moved rapidly, and often turned quite round, she was incapable, at the time, of distinguishing the door from the windows of the apartment she was in. It was only by the kind intervention of Mrs. Dorothea, that Lady Arden's wishes were at length understood, and accomplished. Mrs. Dorothea was in town for the purpose of being present at Madeline's wedding j which was so far fortunate, as she was, on the present occasion, a great support to her afflicted sister- in-law ; and kindly accompanied her on her journey to Arden. DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 5L On entering the town, Lady Arden was asked where she would choose to go. " Where ? " she repeated, " Take me where he is." She was driven to the gates of the gaol ; she looked at them, and at Mrs, Dorothea. When last she had passed through the streets of Arden, the triumphal arches and laurel wreaths, the remnants of the previous day's rejoicings, for the coming of age of her twin sons, were not yet taken down. — i\'ow, one son lay a quarter of a mile distant, within the stately mansion of his fathers, a yet unburied corse ; — she waited at the door of a common prison for admittance to the other. Mrs. Dorothea's eyes met hers, but neither spoke. Becoming suddenly collected, Lady d2 52 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE, Arden alighted from the carriage with a firm step, and entered the dismal precincts as proudly as though the portals of a palace had received her. Alfred had been warned of her approach. He stood breathless, and with a beating heart. Without a word uttered on either side, they rushed into each other's arms. In continued silence the mother held the son to her bosom, as though she felt, instinctively, that it was his natural sanctuary. Though at first melted by the tenderest sorrow, in the embraces of his parent, our hero soon assumed a noble firmness. He had already passed eight-and-forty hours in solitary reflection on his extraordinary fate DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 53 "I do not ask you, mother," he said, " not weep, for we have a common cause of sorrow in the untimely and sudden death of my poor brother : but add not one tear for me ; believe me, there is not, there cannot be, a shadow of danger in the position in which I stand ; although public opinion, I am told, is against me. Is it not," he added, in an altered tone, " a degrading view of human nature, to see that so many indi\iduals should be found ready to believe such a crime possible ? As to the result of a fair and open trial, however, I repeat it, I have no fears ! " In a land professing to prefer mercy be- fore judgment; in a land with laws so con- stituted, that lest an error should be committed 54 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. on the side of severity, the criminal, whom all know to be guilty, is allowed to escape unpunished, if but a technicality of legal proof be wanting; in a land, one of the boasts of which is, that no man is required to prove his own innocence, but that all are by law innocent until proved guilty; in such a land it must be quite impossible that, on mere ap- pearances, they should strip of honour and of life one whose thoughts were never visited by the conception of a crime ! Nay, I speak it not in unchristian pride, but, compared with that of which they would accuse me, I feel that I am innocent indeed ! '* - After a long pause, during which they had gazed silently in each other's faces, Alfred, DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 55 as a sort of effort to converse, said, " How much we are struck with the merest common- places, when they happen to suit our own individual case : ' innocent as the babe unborn,' now seems to me a beautiful expression/* Lady Arden felt much comforted by the firmness of her son ; — his views were her own ; though within the walls of a prison, and sur- rounded with every practical proof of the peril in which he stood, she could not look at Alfred, his lofty carriage, the nobleness of his brow, and force her imagination to associate with him the idea of a condemned criminal — it seemed a thing impossible ! " No ! " she haughtily exclaimed, " acquitted he must be, but how have they dared to accuse him ? '* 56 DILEMMAS OF PRIDE Alfred now explained the hitherto unex- pressed fears, which he had so long entertained, respecting his brother^s state of mind, and went into all the particulars of his late return to Arden, and subsequent death. " Alfred, my child ! my mild, my innocent, my beautiful Alfred ! my gentle, my affectionate, my noble Alfred!" She paused, and, by the working of her features, terrible thoughts seemed to pass in view before her. " Oh, impossible ! " she suddenly exclaimed, clasping him with convulsive agony to her breast, " quite impossible ! But if they are so mad," she added, in a hurried tone of subdued agony " they shall saw these arms asunder before they take him from me ! " He was too much affected to reply. Again she d3 58 ^ DILEMMAS OF PRIDE, looked at him in silence for a time, then added, almost fiercely, " There mi^st be means, and I will find them ! What ! allow them to murder him ! No — no — I rave, my son. Dreams of horror belong to these walls but I have no fears — no fears — no fears ■ — I say I have no fears — it is quite, quite im- possible ! " Even while reiterating that she had no fears, her voice had faltered, and now she burst into a passion of tears, which the effort to brave her feelings quickly changed to an hys- terical affection. This became so serious, and lasted so long, that she was obliged to be carried home, and conveyed to bed, where the kindhearted Mrs. Dorothea, took the post of friendship beside her pillow. DILEMMAS OF PRIDE* 59 Yet this was, by no mean?, the most ago- nizing period of this season of trial. The situ- ation was too novel to be comprehended in its fidl extent. There was, as yet, more of incredulous amazement, and of proud defiance of the accuser, than of despair or even of appre- hension in the feelings both of Lady Arden and of Alfred. They were both at present more indioTiant that such an outrag-e had been offered, and that submission to insulting and degrading forms was still necessary, than se riously alarmed as to future consequences. 60 CHAPTER VT. In the parlour to which we have already been introduced, sat Mr. Fips — over his wine it must be confessed, yet apparently uniting the utile et duke, for beside his bottle of port stood an ink- bottle ; amid walnut-shells and remnants of bis- cuit lay sundry long-shaped folded papers, and though he held a glass in his hand, from which he sipped from time to time, there was a pen be- hind his ear; his wig was pushed on one side and Geoffery was his companion. DILEMMAS OF PRIDE. 61 '^ Should we not subpoena Lady Arden?" asked Fips, " By all means," replied Geoffery, " her evi- dence will be of great importance : we can prove by it, that Sir Alfred had actually made propo- sals to and been accepted by Lady Caroline, the very day before his brother came to town : and also, that he felt his disappointment much more bitterly than was generally supposed." Here Geoffery repeated the particulars of a conversation on the subject, which it may be re- membered he once overheard, between Lady Arden and her son. And Fips took down notes, for suggesting questions to counsel. 