On this Friday afternoon she asked the King whether “The Griff” had sent to ask to see her. “But sooner or later,” she continued, “I am sure we shall be plagued with some message of that kind, because he will think it will have a good air in the world to ask to see me; and perhaps hopes I shall be fool enough to let him come, and give him the pleasure to see the last breath go out of my body, by which means he would have the joy of knowing I was dead five minutes sooner than he could know it in Pall Mall.” Fine sentiments these, for a mother on her death bed to hold towards her eldest son! But the whole of this Friday the Queen grew worse hour by hour. But it was on Saturday that the true nature of her illness was discovered, and this by a hint given to Ranby, the Court Surgeon by the King, who then, for the first time, stated that he believed the Queen was suffering from an umbilical rupture, incurred at the birth of Princess Louisa thirteen years before. Incredible as it appears, there is not a question of a doubt but that the Queen had concealed this rupture for all those years simply and solely because if the knowledge of this ailment was bruited about, it would tend to render her objectionable to the King--though it appears he was aware of it--and that she would have died rather than disclose it. Her motive was plainly jealousy of his mistresses. However, once the hint was given, Ranby, the Surgeon, would not be denied, and insisted on an examination, which she strove by every means in her power to avoid. When this had been conducted and Ranby was whispering to the King in a corner, she started up in bed: “I am sure now, you blockhead,” she cried, “you are telling the King I have a rupture.” “I am so,” answered Ranby, “and there is no more time to be lost, your Majesty has concealed it too long already, and I beg another surgeon may be called in immediately.” The Queen did not answer, but, lying down, turned her face to the wall and wept. The only time she shed a tear, as the King stated, during her illness. As Dr. Ranby stated there was little time to be lost; the King sent at once for Dr. Busier,[56] a French surgeon, eighty years old, in whom they all had great confidence, but he not being found, Ranby was sent out to bring in the first surgeon of note he could find. The celebrated Cheselden, Surgeon to the Queen, appears to have been absent. Ranby returned however with Shipton, an eminent City surgeon, and shortly after, Busier, the French surgeon, arrived, who advised an immediate operation. This was objected to by the other two, and thus probably the Queen’s last chance went. The following may be taken as an example of the hatred which had grown up in the King’s heart against his eldest son. The ever-ready Hervey whispered a suggestion to him on this day which enraged him.