Notwithstanding the condescension of his majesty’s words and manner, and the polite promptitude to attend to any business that concerned his lordship, it was evident to Lord Oldborough’s penetration that there was an unusual coldness and formality in the king’s countenance and deportment, unlike the graciousness of his reception when satisfied and pleased. As soon as the business of the day had been gone through, Lord Oldborough said he must now beg his majesty’s attention on a subject which principally concerned himself. The king looked as one prepared to hear, but determined to say as little as possible.
Lord Oldborough placed himself so as to give the king the advantage of the light, which he did not fear to have full on his own countenance.
“Sir, certain letters, signed with my name, and sealed with my seal, have, I am informed, been laid before your majesty.”
“Your lordship has been rightly informed.”
“I trust—I hope that your majesty—”
At the firm assertion, in the tone with which Lord Oldborough pronounced, I trust—his majesty’s eye changed—and moved away from Lord Oldborough’s, when he, with respectful interrogation of tone, added, “I hope your majesty could not believe those letters to be mine.”
“Frankly, my lord,” said the king, “the assertions, the insinuations of no man, or set of men, of any rank or weight in my dominions, could by any imaginable means have induced me to conceive it possible that such letters had been written by your lordship. Not for one moment could my belief have been compelled by any evidence less strong than your lordship’s handwriting and seal. I own, I thought I knew your lordship’s seal and writing; but I now see that I have been deceived, and I rejoice to see it.”
“I thank your majesty. I cannot feel surprise that a forgery and a counterfeit which, at first view, compelled my own belief of their being genuine, should, for a moment, have deceived you, sir; but, I own, I had flattered myself that my sovereign knew my heart and character, yet better than my seal and signature.”
“Undoubtedly, my lord.”
“And I should have hoped that, if your majesty had perused those letters, no assertions could have been necessary, on my part, to convince you, sir, that they could not be mine. I have now only to rejoice that your majesty is undeceived; and that I have not intruded unnecessarily with this explanation. I am fully sensible, sir, of your goodness, in having thus permitted me to make, as early as possible, this assertion of my innocence. For the proofs of it, and for the detection of the guilty, I am preparing; and I hope to make these as clear to you, sir, as your majesty’s assurance of the pleasure you feel in being undeceived is satisfactory—consolatory to me,” concluded Lord Oldborough, with a bow of profound yet proud respect.