The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

—- THE DRAMA OF A NIGHT 13 “ What, your dressing up in male apparel, with a pair of false whiskers and mustachios?”’ said Julia, laughing in her turn. ‘Now did I not, when thus dressed up, personate Ber- gami to perfection? ’’ exclaimed Emma, as if the tremendous phase to which she was now alluding, in the hideous con- spiracy whereof she and her sisters were the instruments, could be made an object of triumph and seltf-felicitation. ‘Worthy Mrs. Ranger has indeed managed uncommonly well, for whenever I was performing the part of Bergam1, and when appearing to steal so cautiously along the passage, Mrs. Ranger always compelled the observant Mrs. Hubbard to retreat from her prying position at her chamber door the moment that I reached the entrance into the princess’s apartment. Ah! little thought the scandal-loving laundress that the Bergami she thus saw was but a false one, alter all, merely Miss Emma Owen dressed up to resemble the hand- some equerry, and that,so far from ever penetrating into her Royal Highness’s apartment in such a guise and at such an hour of the night, I stole hastily back to my own the instant I knew the said Mrs. Hubbard was no longer peeping forth at the end of the passage.”’ “There can be no doubt,” said Julia, ‘‘ that we are doing our best to fulfil the instructions of those who placed us about the person of her Royal Highness.’ “ Especially within the last few days,’’ said Emma, “‘ have we managed to heap together an immense amount of cir- cumstantial evidence tending to criminate the princess, and now, the proceedings of this night will tend to crown them all.’’ “ Yes,”’ added Julia, “‘ for good Mrs. Ranger has done her best to confirm Mrs. Hubbard in the belief that ’tis the princess herself who is about to become a mother, and thus is the web rapidly closing in around the unconscious and I must say undeserving and much-to-be-pitied wife of the prince regent.”’ “ Ah! if we were all well-off, rich, and independent, you, I, and Agatha,’ observed Emma, “ we might then afford to show pity and forbearance toward one of our own sex; but we dare not, no, we dare not, Julia. We must continue to steel our hearts against her, even as we have already hardened them. Methought that her Royal Highness was GOmiicdoo! cS (GO) im