City life had become so necessary to his existence that he seemed to loath the green fields and meadows, and sighed to be once more in the dusty streets round about the Exchange, or up in offices again, handling paper or counting gold.
Old as he was, and far past the meridian of life, the ruling passion for money was still strong in him.
Little temptation, perhaps, would have been requisite to prompt him again to nefarious deeds should the “chance” present itself.
Phillip’s wife had casually heard of these visits of her father to the City, and sought every opportunity to see him.
She did not desire assistance, but wished to beg his forgiveness for what she had done, and resolved that if he still betrayed any affection for her, she would beg of him to take her to his home, far from the City, and far from the ill-treatment and brutality of Phillip her husband, whose daily and increasing unkindness and neglect were killing her.
While in waiting for her father, at the corner of St. Paul’s churchyard, Phillip met her.
Being partly intoxicated, he abused her in unmeasured terms, and bade her go home instantly, at the same time irreparably wounding her womanly pride by inhuman epithets and accusations.
In tears she stood in the public street, leaning against a lamp-post for support, when who should pass at the moment but Augustus Fumbleton, Esq., who, in despair at his loss of the captivating Miss Clara, had been consoling himself with a serene contemplation of the numerous tombstones in the churchyard, near the railings of which Mrs. Phillip Redgill stood sobbing.
Fumbleton addressed the afflicted lady in a very respectful manner, and proffered to assist her home.
His gallantry and amiability so won upon Fanny, that she sobbingly consented, and he was generous enough to call a conveyance, and saw her safely to her own door.