The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 115: what you’re looking at

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

vo i ee ee is Marea, waar ED ee ee ee ee ——— 102 with the Queen—and all was arranged. The pro- ject was to bend the minds of my sistera and my- eelf to a thorough acquaintance with all species of refined duplicity and exquisite cunning—to render us plastic to every kind of artifice and deceit—to demoralize us thoroughly in mind, without actually destroying what the world would call our virtue. This process has been going on for four years. First, my eldest sister, when believed to be pro- perly trained and broken into the specious system, was entrusted with the secret of its real motive : next my second sister was in due course initiated in the mysteries of the career for which she was destined ;—then my third sister's turn came to receive the explanations;—and it was only on ‘Puesday last—the day before y;esterday, in fact— that the veil was drawn away from before my own eyes. Ob! sir, it was dreadful—it was dreadful in the extreme—to hear a mother’s lips incal- cating such, lessons as I then heard: but when I was told that arrangements had already been made for myself and my sisters to enter the service of the Princess of Wales, in the capacity of waiting-ladies, and that we were not only to become spies upon her actions but also to lay snares to entrap her into situations that would give her conduct the colour of guilt,—when I heard all this, I say, it ecemed as if the very bottomless pit itself had sud- denly opened at my feet, displaying all ite ineffable horrors.” “Poor girl!” muttered Jocelyn, in a tone of deep compassion. “Ah! sir, you may well pity me,” exclaimed Mary, the tears streaming down her cheeks: then, hastily wiping them away, she said,“ At first I was 8o astounded, amazed, and bewildered that I knew not what to think or how to act. But I will not trouble you with minute details relative to my own feelings; you will do me the credit to believe, sir, that they were harrowing and poignant in the extreme, though outwardly veiled, no doubt, by the sense of despair and consternation that was upon me. It was on Tuesday morning that my mother received a letter from her Majesty the Queen, stating that the time had now come for my sisters and myself to enter the service of the Prin- cess of Wales. It appears that, whilst secretly plotting against the Princess, the Queen has all along pretended openly to be her friend; and they occasionally correspond. It was therefore an easy nyatter for her Majesty to recommend us to the notice of the Princess: and her Hoyal Highness was not likely to tefuse the Queen’s request that we should be thus taken into her household. The Princess, as you are of course aware, is now upon the Continent: and my mother having had an in- terview with the Prince Regent at Carlton House on Tuesday, returned home in the eveniug with the intimation that we were to proceed to Wool- wich on the ensuing day and thence embark for Krance. Accordingly, every preparation being made, we yesterday repaired to Woolwick< but as the moment for embarkation drew nigh, my feel- ings became wrought up to such an intolerable pitch, that I penned a hasty note to my mother, and fled! In that note I declared hew impossible it was for me to pursna the career for which I had been destined ; and bidding farewell, in the harried lines to my mother and sisters, I expressed a hope that God wonld soften their hearts to repentance. oo =o ee — a — Pa Lan Ge oe Ge ote THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. But I believe I appended an assurance to the effect that I would not betray them. However, { left the note for them—and fled precipitately from Woolwich. Avoiding the main road, I wandered hither and thither in all directions—not knowing what course to adopt,—at one moment maddened by my feelings—at another sitting down and giving vent to my grief in floods of tears.” “How you must have suffered!” exclaimed Jocelyn. “But you had no alternative than to flee from the bosom of your own family.” “Sach was the thought continually uppermost in my mind,” observed Mary: “and although I was horrified when I contemplated what was to become of me, yet I did not ofce repent the step I had taken. However—to be brief—after many, many hours’ wandering, and far into the night too, I reached the suburbs of London. My object was to obtain some respectable lodging: but when I déoade inquiries to that effect, I received so many insults that at last I wandered on without daring to accost another soul. Exhausted with fatigue I sank down upon the steps of a door, thinking that my very existence was ebbing away. A young woman came up and spoke kindly to me. I was cheered, and readily accompanied her to a house which she alleged to be her own home. But scarcely had I lain down to rest, when I was startled from my sleep by the presence of a man who had stolen into the chamber to warn me that I was in a den of thieves and murderers. I fled —I succeeded in effecting my escape, although pursued by some of the inmates of the house; and some honest labourers whom I met conducted me to a tavern near London Bridge, where I found alike security and repose. On rising again, I asked myself what course I should adopt: and I thought of visiting the Marquis of Leveson— throwing myself upon his mercy—and beseeching him to see my mother on my behalf. But on entering Albemarle Street, where his lordship lives, my mind misgave me: I remembered how deeply he was concerned in the conspiracy againat the Princess—-I recollected how artfully, un~ weariedly, and insidiously he had entered into the work of demoralizing the minds of my sisters and myself—and I dared not appeal to hax. At thar moment—in the momeht of my bitter distress and blank despair—you addressed me, Mr. Loftus: and now you know all!” “Miss Owen,” said Jocelyn, “you have behaved in a manner which demands my esteem, as you had already obtained my sympathy. You have shrunk from the performance of a detestable part—and this would be a dreadful world indeed, if you were to be left friendless and an outcast on that account. You have solicited my advico—and I will give its but you must first allow me to proffer you my friendship. I am engaged to be married to an excellent and amiable young lady who lives az Canterbury; and in her dwelling I can guarantee you an asylum until her union with me shall permit you to make my own house your home. Does this arrangement appear to suit you ?—and will you ac- cept it?” ‘‘Oh! cheerfully—oheerfully '” exclaimed Mary, with tears of gratitude. ‘ You are indeed a friend {> me—and I will love your intended bride as if sho were my sister. Yes—IJ acoept your generous proposal with a fervid joy: for I dare not return | a COMME OG Ss