The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

THE SEARCH AFTER A SON 67 conscience is satisfied. In the same manner does com- punction frequently smite the hearts of men who have suc- ceeded in what is called ‘‘ defrauding the revenue;”’ and hence those anonymous remittances to the Chancellor of the Exchequer which are acknowledged day after day in the Times newspaper. Such is the wondrous texture of the human mind; and therefore it cannot be a matter for aston- ishment if King George III now experienced those inscru- table yearnings which prompted him to seek out his son and at least set eyes upon him once in this world, if not to reveal to his ears the tremendous secret of their close affinity. Throughout the day following his interview with Meagles and the huntress at St. James’s Palace, this inclination grew stronger and stronger in the breast of the king. It settled down into one of those invisible longings which so often take possession of the human mind, especially when in a morbid state. It assumed the character of an irresistible craving that would upset the very reason if not gratified. Hours passed away thus, while the monarch at one time paced his apartment in a condition of fearful excitement, and at another flung himself upon a sofa and gave way to the bitterest anguish. The image of Hannah Lightfoot seemed to haunt him, to stand before him whichever way he turned his looks, to be there, in his presence, even though he shut his eyes with the thought of testing the reality of the apparition. He saw her, young and lovely as she was when he first knew her, but with a melancholy air subduing the captivating sweetness and the winning charms of her modest beauty; he saw her with her sylphlike form so full of the elegance and grace which her sectarian dress set off and did not mar; he saw her with those melting liquid eyes, so full of a mournful tenderness, and with the roses of her lips parted by the saddest smile above the strings of pearls that shone between. Yes, it was thus he saw her now, saw her only in imagination, it was true, but still saw her as plainly, and as clearly, and as visibly as if she were indeed there as a being of flesh and blood. “Oh, do not haunt me thus, Hannah, do not haunt me thus!” exclaimed the king aloud, in the bitterness of his mental misery. ‘‘ Ah! I wronged thee—my God! lI wronged thee — I know that I wronged thee! But thou wilt forgive me, Hannah, thou wilt forgive me! Oh, do not look (COMMUG Doo eS (EO)