“By all means!” cried all the noble lords simultaneously, and Dr. Hardman advanced.
“How is her most gracious Majesty?” asked Lord Gustavus, with his usual solemnity.
“Alas! my lord,” said Dr. Hardman, “her Majesty has slept badly, and is much worse this morning.”
“Is she still delirious?” asked the Duke of Exeter.
“Quite, your Grace,” returned the doctor, shaking his head.
“Then I fear there is no hope?” said the duke.
“None!” said Lord Noodle, shaking his head.
“None!” echoed Lord Doodle, shaking his.
“Thinking as I think, and as I am sure everyone here must think, or at least ought to think,” said Lord Gustavus, “we must not suffer the interests of the people to be invaded with impunity. The constitution requires watching over, and I consider this a matter which ought to be inquired into.”
“Then you think the senses of the Queen irrecoverable?” asked the Duke of Exeter, addressing Dr. Hardman.
“Not irrecoverable, I hope, my lord duke,” replied the doctor; “though I own her delirium is alarming.”
“What does she rave about?” asked Lord Doodle; curiosity being the only mark he ever gave of his being a rational animal.
“It is a delicate subject,” returned the doctor; “and if your lordships will excuse me—”
“Oh, no! you must tell us,” said Lord Doodle.
“Thinking as I think, and as I am sure everyone who hears me must think, or at least ought to think,” said Lord Gustavus; “concealment in this case would be a crime.”
“Since your lordships command me,” replied the doctor, “however reluctant I may be to betray her Majesty’s secrets, it is my duty to obey. The Queen raves incessantly of Prince Ferdinand.”
“I feared as much,” said the Duke of Exeter.
“And do you think if she recovers she’ll want to marry him?” asked Lord Doodle.
“I fear it cannot be doubted, my Lord:” returned the doctor.
“Then, thinking as I think, and as every freeborn Englishman ought to think,” said Lord Gustavus, “she will forfeit her crown.”
A deep silence followed this daring speech, yet, though no one assented to it, no one attempted to contradict it. In fact, every man seemed afraid of committing himself; for, though everyone thought Lord Gustavus would not have ventured so far, had he not felt assured the party against the Queen was strong, yet no one liked to be the first to declare himself her opponent. This awkward pause was broken by the entrance of Sir Ambrose and Father Morris, who came with a message from the Duke of Cornwall, imploring them not to decide upon any measure hastily, and informing them that on the following day his physicians assured him he would be able to assist their deliberations in person.
“We all esteem and respect the Duke,” said Lord Gustavus. “But, thinking as I think, and as I am confident everyone who hears me must think, or at least ought to think, not even our respect for him ought to induce us to consent that the Queen should marry a foreigner! No, no, we must not let private feelings make us risk the interests of the people.”
“I dare say they will not be in any danger,” murmured the soft, insinuating voice of Father Morris—“I dare say they will run no risk. Foreigners have sometimes been known to respect the interests of a people, and reign as gloriously as native-born monarchs.”
“Not often, I believe, father,” said Sir Ambrose. “At any rate, I am sure it would break the Duke’s heart to see his daughter married to Prince Ferdinand, and I am sure it would break mine to see him King of England. Weak, silly Elvira! I cannot account for her infatuation; and I have no patience with her, for causing all this misery solely by her folly.”
“You use strong language, Sir Ambrose,” said the Duke of Exeter.
“Not stronger than the occasion requires, my lord duke,” returned the worthy baronet. “I have known the Queen from her childhood, and loved her as a daughter; but now—”
“The matter must certainly be inquired into,” said Lord Gustavus. “It is the duty of every well-disposed patriotic Englishman not to suffer the slightest invasion of the constitution. Our laws are our bulwarks; we ought to die in defence of our laws; and if the Queen be no longer in a fit state to administer them, or if she contemplate the design of putting the administration of them into hands in which their purity will be contaminated, then, thinking as I think, and as I feel confident every individual who hears me must think, or, at least, ought to think, there can remain only one course for us to pursue.”
“Perhaps,” said Father Morris, “we may be deceived, and the delirium of the Queen may be transient, or, at least, her mentioning the name of Prince Ferdinand in her ravings quite accidental. It is not well to be too rash—”
“Oh, no, reverend father,” replied Lord Gustavus, “you deceive yourself. Your abstraction from the world, and the goodness of your heart, lead you to judge too favourably of others; but we, who know the world, see deeper. You, holy father, can form no idea of the folly of human passions; you are above their weaknesses, and cannot suspect that in another, which you are incapable of feeling yourself: but, as I said before, we that know the world see deeper. Elvira is in love with Prince Ferdinand, and is quite capable of sacrificing her throne and people to the caprices of a romantic passion.”
“Impossible!” cried Father Morris, with well-acted astonishment.
“It is very true, notwithstanding,” said Lord Gustavus, shaking his head sagaciously; whilst his attendant satellites, the Lords Noodle and Doodle, shook theirs for sympathy.
“Impossible!” cried Sir Ambrose; “she cannot surely carry her infatuation to such a height: she is too noble: but even if she be so mad, will no one step forward and save her from destruction?”
“I do not see how anyone can save her, if such be her intentions,” said the Duke of Exeter. “Women
