The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 347: what you’re looking at

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doz THE MYSTERIES. a joyful surprise it would be for you, when that lewd scene burst upon my eyes. Oh! fie, George—I am sorry to have received such evidence—unmistaka- ble evidence — of the vicious courses which you pursue.” “ Are we to return, sire, to unpleasant subjects ?” demanded his Royal Highness, in a cold tone. “Th!—what? Unpleasant subjects!” echoed his Majesty. ‘“ No—certainly not—very far from it. Come—there’s my hand, George—let the past be forgotten—quite forgotton. I won’t even reproach you for all that took place at the Castle the other day, when your friend Beagles or Deagles——” ‘“‘ Meagles,”’ correctively suggested the Prince. “ Well—Meagles, then—Meagles—Meagles,” re- iterated his Majesty: “but, as I was saying, we won't even touch upon that topic. We will turn over a new leaf—a new leaf--an entirely new leaf. Yow’re going to be married—and you must become steady. And to show you that you really have an indulgent father, in spite of——but no matter—let by-gones be by-gones——I was about to observe, to convince you that I will do all I can to please you when you merit my favour, that in the course of three or four days Mr. Clarendon will receive an in- timation——”’ “Ah! Lam glad that this affair has not been neglected !” exclaimed the Prince. “ Neglected—no !” cried his Majesty. “I passed my word to your friend Mr. Meagles—Meagles— Meagles,” reiterated the King, dwelling with a species of childish pleasure upon the name. “ Let me see—to-day ’s Wednesday— Wednesday. Well —next Saturday—but not before, mind—you may cause it to be intimated to Mr. Clarendon that the offer of a peerage and a pension which he will receive on that same morning is a considera- tion ——” “JT understand you, my dear father—and I thank you,” interrupted his Royal Highness, “Shall I now order luncheon to be served up?” he asked, by way of putting an end to a conversation which was growing especially tedious to him. “ No—I must take my departure,” responded the King, rising from his seat. “ And now, my dear son,” he added, his voice suddenly assuming a solemn tone,—“ let me beseech you to be circum- spect in your conduct. You are about to enter the matrimonial sphere—and the eyes of the nation are upon you. Lord Malmesbury is about to set off for Germany in order to escort the Princess Caroline to England. ‘The portrait of her Serene Highness will be sent to you in a few days——” “ My dear father, I beg of you to abandon this topic—at least for the present,” interrupted the Prince of Wales, with an emphasis that was marked and resolute even tosternness. “ Were the Princess Caroline of Brunswick as beautiful as an angel, I could not look upon myself in any other light than as a man sacrificed to the most deplorable exigen- cies. My debts—the cruel necessity of a Prince of the Blood espousing a foreign Princess, instead of a British subject—and the circumstance that this alliance is a merely conventional one in which the hands and not the hearts are joined,—all these cir- stances afflict me cruelly. Indeed, I cannot bear to think of the marriage which has been planned _for me—and there are times when I recoil from the idea as if it were a hideous spectre haunting my imugipation, I consent to the sacrifice,” added his SK $e Ss ee nS ee ee Royal Highness, laconically: “but let us not talk of it.” “ Be it as you will, my dear son,” observed his Majesty: and, wringing the Prince’s hand with some degree of emotion, he took his departure without uttering another word. The Prince of Wales paced the room in an agi- tated manner for some minutes after his royal father had left him: then, suddenly making a strong effort to throw off the gloomy ideas which had stolen upon him, he rang the bell violently. Germain, the faithful and discreet French valet, instantly answered the summons. “ Are the ballet-dancers gone?” demanded the Prince. “They departed immediately after the arrival of nis Majesty,” was the response. “Tam sorry for that!” muttered the heir-appa- rent to himself: “their presence would have banished the care which now weighs, I know not why, upon my soul.” “ May it please your Royal Highness,” said Ger- main, “a young lady, whom I have shown to the Red Drawing-Room, solicits an interview.” “A young lady!” echoed the Prince. “ Of course she gave you her name ?” The valet handed his master a card. “ Miss Clarendon !” exclaimed the heir- apparent, glancing at the name which it bore: then, after a moment's hesitation, hesaid, “ Hasten and announce that L will be with her in ten minutes.” CHAPTER XCIV. THE VICTIM OF THE ROYAL LOVER. Tue Prince of Wales repaired to his own private apartment, where he at once adopted the most ap- proved measures to restore himself to a state of complete sobriety: for it struck him as something criminal—indeed, he reflected that it would be add- ing a flagrant insult to an irreparable injury, were he to appear half-intoxicated in the presence of that wronged and beauteous creature whose image still retained a certain influence over his heart. Having drunk a bottle of soda-water, he twisted a wet towel round his head, and then entered the warm bath. Issuing thence considerably refreshed, he summoned Germain, and by the aid of this skilful dependant, soon completed his toilette. His countenance was slightly flushed— but it seemed rather the animation of mental excitement than the eftects of wine ; and though his brain still felt somewhat heated, he did not regret this cir- cumstance, inasmuch as it inspired him with a bastard courage to encounter the lovely girl whom he had undone. Taking a last look at himself in the full length mirror, and feeling well satisfied with his appear- ance, the Prince of Wales repaired slowly to the drawing-room to which Octavia had been shown. Yes—slowly did he proceed thither : for, in spite of the feverish hardihood that animated him, he ex- perienced a certain dread, as if his soul quailed and his heart quaked at the idea of ina few moments finding himself face to face with the confiding young woman whom he had made the victim of so black atreachery. But at length he reached the door: for a few (C(O) nn) (@ 6)(0)©) Ha(CO)