The Mysteries of the Court of London Vol. 4 — page 378: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ess ae -_ a (qe eg sceerere orm a = ae t ~ ran = - — = a ree § tee ° THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. young lady who had ever intrigued with a Prined, tween her diuchter and the Prince. if you had married alain Mr. Smith or a humble Mr. Jones, your child would be ¢alled Thomas or Jane Smith, or Henry or Mary Jénes, just as the circumstances of the sen might be: but aa it is, the father of your child can make it a Lord or a Lady; and it & but to look over a list of the most high- vounne names and choose the one that pleases you est.” “Mother,” anewered Penelope, fixing a strange look upon her parent, wifile the colour suddenly fled from her cheeks, leaving them as pale as marble, —do you remember that when you first proposed to me that I should abandon fhayself to the Prince; I bade you beware lest all this should teach me to despise and contemm—perhaps even hate—my can mother? Ab! I fear that that hour is now come: and assuredly, whatever feeling of bitterness I might have entertained towards you when you first entered the room ere now, it has been enkanced by the flip- pancy of your last observations.” ° “Flippancy, my dear child!” exclaimed Mrs. Arbuthuot. “I was merely talling you tho truth.” “Ah! but even allowing your words to be taken seriously,” cried Penelope, “let us suppose that I had married a plain gentleman or an honest shop- aeeper—would not my chiid have had an honour- able name, and from its very birth the fond care of a father ?”’ P “ All this would be well enough,” rejoined Mrs. Arbuthnot, with a Jook very much resembling dis- gust, “if you were a young sentimental girl of seventeen or eighteen, who had been seduced under . very cruel circumstances by some treacherous ad- mirer and under a promise of marriage. But really, as matters now stand, there is something too absurd in a young woman of your age—past six- and-twenty—and with the Prince Regent as your love-———" ‘* Lover!” echoed Penelope, her Jools again ex- pressing astrange bitterness: “do you call an uuo~ grateful sensualist--an unfeeling profligate like that—a lover ?” “Penelope, there is something in your mind with which I am unacquainted,” said her mother, now surveying her with @ moge fixed and earnest at- tention than at first. “What has occurred ?— anything new? anything unpleasant ?” “Listen, mother—and I will tell you,” replied Penelope, 23 she pointed to a chair, while she resumed her own at the window. “ You kuow that the Prince Regent paid a hurried wait to the Castle last evening, to consult her Majesty upon some- thing of importance——-" “Yes, lam aware of its and I presume that you are offended because his Royal H:ghness was too hurried and too auxious to get back to London to pass the night here, so that he might have been ia your arms—or even to be able to snatch u short half-hour’s conversation with you ere he went.” * You are wrong, mother—you are wrong,’ ex- claimed Penelope. “The Prince did anatch half- au-hour to speak to me alone last evening; ani it is precisely In consequence of what then took place between us, that you see metas I am this morning. But again [ beg you to listan—that is to say, if you indeed desire explanations from my lips ?” ° “TI do: you must know [ do,” answered Mrs. Arbuthnot, now displaying an evident anxiety : fur ahe began tu fear that something sas wrong be- greatly excited, 6 e - eee OT 4 eee _ —~ » y = so s == Ph eadieee 2 OS. Pe a= ah re So buoyed yourself up with the hope that the Prince 365 —___2___. my dear child.” *T need scarcely remind you,” continued Pene- lope, “that when firat you proposed that‘L should become the mistress of the Prince, I listeved to you in amazement and in horror. But you told mea tale of pecuniary embarrassments—vwhich I have since discovered to be:false—and you used 80 much persuasion, that, in short, I kuew not what to do, unless i¢ were to yield. Asd I did yield. Then, the barrier of virtue onee broken down, I gave myself up to the enjoymaute of sensual pas- sion, and likewise to ambitious dreamings. The Prince, every time he came to the Castle, treated me with kfhdness—even with a show of affection he gave me a few presents, awyou are aware—and he made many brilliant promises. Three or four weeks ago I hinted to him my apprehension that the effecta of our amour would in time become visible: but he did not seem to care much about the intelligence I thus 4mparted to, his ear. In- deed, he receivdil it with a kind of indifference which struck me to be heartless and even cruel. But I dared not admit <9 myself that such was the case ; I endeavoured to reason my mind out of that belief ;—and therefore was it that I kept my fears from you. Bat last evening I took the oppor- tunity of whispering to the Prince that I besought afew minutes interview with him; and he contrived that it should take place previous to his departure. Then I assured him that what I had hinted at asa possibility a month back, had now become a cer- tainty. mother! I expected———No, I cannot say thas I expected : for tay mind had been previously haunted with sore misgivings on the subject: bat I had hoped that his manner might change, and that wheu he learnt that he was beyond all doubt to be- come the father of my child in due course, be would treat me with tenderness and affection. But, Ah! if you had beheld the careless indifference— nay, even the coldness, with which he received wy words-—” Her8 ‘Penelope stopped suddenly short, and burst into téars. ‘My dear chile,” coming frightened, * this @ indeed*serious. not anticipated such a thing !” ‘No, mother,” exclaimed Penelope bitterly as she wiped away her tcars, “I am well aware of al) You have said Mrs. Arbuthnot, now be- I had that has been passing in your mind! would provide brilhantly alike for me and the *omiig babe ; and that in the splendour of the po- sition to which he would raise me, my disgrace should be altuzether absorbed. Judging by all he had done for Lady Sackville, you flattered yourselt that he would make a pecress of me—bestuw upon me a handsome pension—and by loading me with favours, make me the object of envy and adora- tion in the Court circh, so that some proud noble- man would be giad to lay his cdtonet at my feet and sue for my band. Yes—these have been your hhopes—these have been your dreams. To this end have all your intrigues and machwations been directed.” «Penelope, you are right—you are right !" exe claimed Mrs. Arbuthnot. that my hopes are to be disappointed—" “They are, they are,” rejoined her daughter, now I tell you that I have no hold = =e YE Milesb12,—e-buh-l in aa ey Ey ay gl woe Coe a TS ER TER ham. EE TED “But do not well me. LDOC ( O) rT Proceed, a} cS) CO