"Your Majesty must remember the observation I made ere now," interrupted Georgiana. "Before a woman, whose affection is really worthy of being possessed, can consent to surrender herself entirely even to one so highly placed as you, sire, her heart must be won by kindnesses shown—by proofs of attachment given——"
"I accept the condition implied, charming Georgiana," exclaimed the King. "You imagine that I am now influenced by a sudden caprice—that the love which I bear for you is the phantasy of a moment. Well—I will convince you to the contrary; and when I shall have proved to you that my passion survives the passing hour—then—then, sweet lady, you will not suffer me to hope in vain! Come—let us return to the drawing-room; and believe me when I declare that you have made me supremely happy. But, ere we again seek that society where a cold ceremony must keep us under a rigid restraint, allow me to seal upon your lips that pledge for which I have already given my royal word."
"No, sire—not now—not yet!" cried Lady Hatfield, in a tone which showed that she felt herself to be in a position to dictate to her regal admirer.
"Cruel charmer!" said the King: "but I suppose you must be permitted to have your own way. Send me the paper to-morrow—let it be addressed to me under cover to Sir Phillip Warren;—and you shall see by the haste with which it will be returned to you, that I shall count every minute an hour, and reckon every day to be a year, until that happy moment comes when you will be wholly and solely mine."
George the Fourth then opened the door, and led Georgiana away from the room in which this singular scene had taken place.
But what of the Earl of Ellingham?
So completely stunned and stupified was he by all that had occurred, that he never moved a muscle and retained his very breath suspended while his ears drank in every word that passed between the King and Lady Hatfield. Thus did he become an unwilling and unintentional listener to a discourse which created the most painful emotions in his breast.
Was it possible that the Lady Hatfield whom he looked upon as the very personification of virtue, in spite of the terrible misfortune which had deprived her of her chastity,—was it possible that she, whose soul he had imagined to be so pure, though dwelling in a body polluted by the ravisher,—was it possible that she had already suffered herself to be dazzled by the delusive overtures of royalty? and was she seriously about to resign herself to the King's arms—to become the mistress of that regal debauchee of sixty-four?
"My God!" thought the Earl: "I, who had such an exalted opinion of female virtue!"
Then he remembered that portion of the conversation which had turned upon the document Lady Hatfield was to send to the King for his royal signature, and which she had prepared him to find of a most singular character. Of what nature could that document be? Conjecture was vain and useless.