The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 314: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYATERIES. Niee Lightfoot and Lady Stamford were in daily expectation of becoming mothers. And, as a natural sequence to that simuitaneousness.of preg-- naney which I have before alluded to, they were delivered within a few hours of each other. And ] now comes the tremendous secret which is con- tained in the explanatory comments appended in Lady Stamford’s own hand-vwriting, as it appears, to the correspondence which has fallen into my possession. But your Majesty is aware of it all! Yes—your Majesty is aware that Lady Stamforg’s child died a few hours after its birth, and that, with the concurrence of her husband Sir William, she adopted Miss Lightfoot’s child as her own !” “It is true—too trne—al) too true!” groaned the unhappy monarch, writhing in his chair, but stil) maintaining his hand over his countesance, “Go on—go on! What more do those papers reveal?” “ Have they not already proelaimed enough ?* demanded Meagles. “Ordo you wish me to re- peat to your Majesty how the substitution of your child by Hannah Lightfoot for the child of Sir William and Lady Stamford, was duly communi- cated to you—how you approved of the proceeding as the only means of veiling the disgrace of the beauteous Quakeress and sparing her the crown- ing ignominy of expulsion from her sect—and how Sir William and Lady Stamford brought up the child.as their own, adopted him as their heir, and le:t him: all their property? Does your Majesty wish me to enter into such details as these ?—and does your Majesty need to be reminded that your son by the unfortunate Hannah Lightfoot still lives——-yes, lives in the person of that Sir Richard Stamford who has himself been so unfortunate? Ah! no wonder that he bears such a marvellous resemblance to the Royal Family of England——” “Ksnough, enough!” exclaimed the King, now starting nervously from his seat: then, after pass- ing to and froin a state of dreadful agitation for several minutes, he suddenly stopped short— clutched Meagles violently by the arm—and said in a hollow voice, “I must have those papers! What is your price ?” “It is high, your Maiesty,” observed Meagies. “ Name it—name it,” said the King, impatiently. “ A Dukedom !” was the startling response. George IIT was rooted to the spot with the con- sternation that seized upon him at this demand ;— and for upwards of a minute he stood with his eyes fixed in vacant wonderment on’ Meagles—his brows lifted—his mouth half open—and his whole aspect that of stolid amazement. “A Dukedom ?” at length he gasped forth ;—and, turning abruptly away, he renewed his agitated walk to and fro in the Royal Closet. “Don’t be beaten down, Tim,” whispered the Amazon, encouragingly,—“ even though he should offer you a Marquisate.” “Yes, my beauty,” responded Meagles: “I widd take a Marquisate, with ten thousand a-year—bnt nothing less.” . “Well—nothing less than a Marquisate, then,” rejoined Lady Lade, in a tone of decision. “Mr. Meagies,” said the King, ones more stop- ping shert and addressing Tim in that same hoew voice which indicated feelings profoundly. stirred, “your price is too high! I could invent no pos- sible excuse for conferring such a dignity apon you. But were your views less exalted—an Kart- dom, for instance———” “T wail nat be too hard upon your Majesty,” in- terrapted Tim ; “and therefore I am willing to pat up with a Marquisate. And surely your Majesty cannot be very fustidious upon the subject, when i¢ is cemembered that there are several Dukes in the peerage who have no better nor loftier claim to the distinction than the infamous character of their aneestresses. [I allude to the titled descendants of the filthy strumpets. who solid themselves to Charies II-——” “‘Enough, sir,—enough !” ejaculated the King, sternly : thon, in @ more coneiliatory tone, he. added, ‘“‘ Well—you shall have a Marquisate |” “Ah! Tim, I always knew you would rise in the world i". exclaimed the Amason, ina joyous tone: then, in a low and hurried whisper, she said, “ And you will make me a Marohioness ?” “ What does she say? what does she say ?” de- manmded the King, his irritability returaing, and his habit of reiteration along. with it. “ Lady Lade deaires me to bring this interview to an end as speedily as possible,” returned Tim, with the utmost gravity; ‘‘ inasmuch as she feels. con- vineed it must prove painful to your Majesty.” “Did she say that ? did she say that 2’ exclaimed the King. ‘“ Well, weH—she’s a good creature—a good creature. Aad now give me the papess—and you shall hear from me in a few days.” “Don't be such a.fool, Tim,’ were the emphatio words which the huntress now whispered in ner friend’s ear. “ What does she say again? what does ehe sav again?” cried the monarch,.his nervousness in. creasi “Lady Lade most respectfully suggests.” answered Meagiles, with s low bow, “that it woud be much more business-like to exchange the papers for the patent of nobility, and thus settle the whae thing at one and the same time.” “Eh! what? You don’t mean to say you-can’t believe my word—my royal word?” exclaimed the King, becoming purple in the face, and fidgetting about as if he were standing with naked.feet-upua hot tiles. “7 am only afraid, may it please your Majesty,” said Meagles, with another low bow, “that were I to deliver up the papers at present, so trifling an affair as the bestowal of a Marquisate might slip your Majesty’s memory in the constant hurry, bustle, and excitement of the nation’s business.” “Ah! I understand you, sir—I understand you,” cried the monarch, scarcely able to. restrain his spite and malignity at the galling hamiliation to which he was. thus subjected. “ You won't take my word—my royal werd—eh? But this is an in- sufferable insult, sir! And I am sure you don’t want to insult your Sovereign, sir—insult your Sovereign? Come—did you ever know me break my word, sir? Speak—speak, man~I say. Did you ever know me to break my word 2?” “ Yes--and a womans heart also!” was the dsuntless reply given by Tim Meagles. “My Godi this is retribution!” murmured the wretched old manarch, as he staggered beck. and sank once more into the arm-cheiz: then covering . his face with his hands, and apparently ceasing to recollect that any one was present to observe ox hear him, he exclaimed in a voice of bitter anguish 303 ElOOO® SS