The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 175: what you’re looking at

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162 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. Oh! I do not blame you—I cannot be angry with you on that account. Had I become the happy wife of him whom I loved, I feel that I could have kept nothing from him. But your husband has preserved an inviolable secrecy ?” *“ Oh! inviolable,” exclaimed Pauline. “ Not for worlds would he breathe the tale to mortal ears! His honour is beyond all question [° “You are happy—supremely happy in the pos- session of such a husband, Pauline,” said the Princess Sophia. “So far as the indulgence of the heart’s best and purest affections is concerned, my life is an impenetrable blank. Not forme may beam the smiles of a fond husband—not upon the pathway of my existence may the sunny eyes of innocent children shed their ineffable light! Chained to my royal destiny, I am compelled to mingle in the splendours, the pomps, the luxuries, and the ostentations of a Court: but those chains which thus bind me are galling and scathing, golden though they be! Iam caressed—courted —flattered: but no particle of that adulation can give balm to my aching heart—my burning brain ! Every eye contemplates me with respect: Oh! could those looks penetrate deep down into the profundities of my soul, they would find naught to envy there! @When I know that I am the centre of all attraction in the brilliant assembly of rank, wealth, and fashion, that lofty elevation which to other women would be the proudest triumph, is to me the veriest mockery of my matchless, immiti- gable woe! The smiles that I force myself te lavish upon the gay and giddy throngs which then surround me, may appear to beam with the heart’s happiness: but the efforts which they cost me are purchesed with the agony of life itself. Or if for a brief space I do at times outstrip the whirl of cracifying remembrances, the reprieve is but short: on, on tear the harrowing recollections— they overtake me—enguif me in their furious sweep —fix their vulture-talons upon my heart — and shoot Eke millions of red-hot needles through my brain. For I feel that I am guilty—I know that my frailty and shame have enfered into the causes which extinguished the light of my unhappy father’s reason: I know also that my sister Amelia was very guilty—and that her love was charac- terised by circumstances of an appalling horror! Yes—my dear Pauline, I will tell you everything now. Know, then, that in his youth my father— the King of England—loved a beauteous creature —a certain Hannah Lightfoot, of whom you have doubtless heard. A son was the issue of that amour : and by a strange combination of circumstances, he was adopted by a baronet and his wife, who passed him off as their own son. He succeeded to their title and property: he became that Sir Richard Stamford whose misfortunes created so deep a sensation about nineteen years ago. Alas! he it was who gained my sister Amelia’s love—he it was to whom she surrendered her virtue—and he was the father of her child which perished at its birth |” “Her own half-brother !* said Pauline, with a cold tremor and in a subdued tone. “He was—he was,” returned the Princess. “And now, think you not that the reminiscences which often goad me almost to madness, are harrowing to a degree? A spell is upon the family to which I belong, Pauline—a spell that has stricken my a a TN father, my brothers, my sisters, and myself— e spell that often sends the shadder of death through- out my entire frame!” “ Talk not thus despondingly, I implore you,” said Lady Florimel, in a voice of tender entreaty. “ You are unhappy—and heaven knows you have enough to embitter your existence. Bat your Roya! Highness will experience solace and comfor¢ from the resolution which you have taken concern- ing your son: and to-morrow | will enter upon the inguiry which your Royal Highness has entrusted in my hands.” “Do so, dear Pauline: and write to me the mo- ment you obtain the requisite information.” The Princess then embraced Lady Flarimel with affectionate gratitude, and took her departure, somewhat soothed by the outpourings of her sor- rows into the bosom of a faithfal friend. Nor did she regret having suffered the tide of her feelings to hurry her into such delicate revelations to Pan- line's ear: for the seoreta to which her lips had thus given utterance, constituted a burthen too tremendous for her heart to bear alone any longer. CHAPTER XLVIII. THE TWO PHYSICIANS. Iv was about one o'clock in the afternoon of the day following the above scone; and Dr. Thurston was sittiag at lench in en elegantly-furnished par- lour of his mansion in May Fair. His wife had gone out in the carriage to make some morning- calles but the Doctor was not alone—for a brother- snewmber of the faculty was keeping him company at the well-spread tabie. Dr. Thurston «418 now in his sixtioth year. He had grown stout, sieek, and had a comfortable well-to-do appearance. The crown of his head was completely bald; and he wore powder. His eyes had a somewhat sinister, sharp, restless ex- pression: but he could assume all the bland smiles and paternal benevolence of the fashionable physi. olan, so that the disagreeable peoullarity of his re- gards was searcely noticed. His friend was Dr. Copperas, who was quite as celebrated as Thurston himself, and enjoyed an equal amount of practice. In fact, they had for years played into each other's hands, rendering mutual assistance in filling their pockets and paf- fing each other off. If Thurston had a difficult or dangerous case, he would of course suggest &@ con- sultation; and when requested to name some emi- nent practitioner to be called in, he would say, * Really I am loath to offer my sdvice upon the point: but every one knows that Dr. Copperas has made this malady his. particular stady.” On the other hand, Dr. Copperas, when similarly situated, would observe after a little apparent reflection, “Well, I really don’t know; but if I must name some eniinent gentleman, | think that Dr. Thurston should be the one—for he excels in the treatment of this particular disease.” Thus, according to the opinions which the two doctors were wont to pass apon each other, they had both made every malady uoder the sun their special study, and both excelled in the treatment of every physical evil to which flesh is heir. If Dr. Thurston wrote an article in a medical COMME OG CO