The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 349: what you’re looking at

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

THE DESERTED MISTRESS 323 it should take place previous to his departure. Then I assured him that what I had hinted at as a possibility a month back had now become a certainty. Oh, mother, I expected — no, I cannot say that I expected, for my mind had been previously haunted with sore misgivings on the subject, but I had hoped that his manner might change, and that when he learned that he was beyond all doubt to become the father of my child in due course, he would treat me with tenderness and affection. But, ah! if you had beheld the careless indifference, nay, even the coldness, with which he received my words —”’ Here Penelope stopped suddenly short, and burst into tears. “My dear child,” said Mrs. Arbuthnot, now becoming frightened, ‘‘ this in indeed serious. I had not anticipated such a thing.” “No, mother,” exclaimed Penelope, bitterly, as she wiped away her tears, ‘‘ I am well aware of all that has been passing in your mind. You have buoyed yourself up with the hope that the prince would provide brilliantly alike for me and the coming babe, and that in the splendour of the position to which he would raise me, my disgrace should be altogether absorbed. Judging by all he had done for Lady Sackville, you flattered yourself that he would make a peeress of me, bestow upon me a handsome pension, and by loading me with favours, make me the object of envy and adoration in the court circle, so that some proud noble- man would be glad to lay his coronet at my feet and sue for my hand. Yes, these have been your hopes, these have been your dreams. To this end have all your intrigues and machinations been directed.”’ “Penelope, you are right, you are right,’ exclaimed Mrs. Arbuthnot. ‘“ But do not tell me that my hopes are to be disappointed.” “They are, they are,” rejoined her daughter, now greatly excited. ‘I tell you that I have no hold upon the prince’s affections. I never had; it was as a toy and a plaything for the moment that I have served. He is sated with me, and he scarcely had the delicacy to conceal it.”’ “ Oh, the ungrateful monster !”’ cried Mrs. Arbuthiot, now trembling with rage. Then the next moment she began to shed tears of vexation. ‘‘ But perhaps he was in an angry (C(O) nn) GDoOo “Si in