“On the occasion of the removal, in 1837, of a stillborn child of the Duke of Cumberland (King of Hanover) to Windsor, a Secretary of State’s Warrant (which is necessary) arrived empowering the Dean and Chapter to open the vault. I was requested by the Dean to superintend the business, which took place by night. “In the middle of the vault, towards the farther end, stands the large stone sarcophagus, and against the wall _are still standing the two sides of the coffins which were withdrawn_. I saw and examined them closely, and have no doubt of the fact. The vault contains only the family of George the Second.” _H. H. Milman._ The King seems to have shown the utmost grief for his wife, and at first to a great extent to have secluded himself. A weird incident in connection with this period is related by Wentworth in a letter to Lord Strafford after the Queen’s funeral. “Saturday night, between one and two o’clock, the King waked out of a dream, very uneasy, and ordered the vault, where the Queen is, to be broken open immediately, and have the coffin also opened; and went in a hackney chair through the Horse Guards to Westminster Abbey and back again to bed. I think it is the strangest thing that could be.” He speaks of it again in another letter. “The story about the King was true, for Mr. Wallop heard of one who saw him go through the Horse Guards on Saturday night, with ten footmen before the chair. They went afterwards to Westminster Abbey.” There is no doubt whatever from the above account that the King was suffering from that awful visitation which comes so often to persons who have recently lost a dear one by death; the terrible fear that the beloved _has been buried alive_. Only those who have been victims to this haunting fear--which is far more common than is imagined--can give an adequate description of its terrors. Morbid as the thought is, the outcome no doubt of an exhausted nervous system, where deep grief has followed perhaps the wearing anxiety of watching a long illness, still it is not by any means restricted to those of an imaginative tendency, but comes to all temperaments alike. It would be perhaps quite safe to say that this was what made King George undertake his midnight journey, and give the order for the opening of the Queen’s tomb. But deep as his sorrow was for his wife, it did not keep him from his old ways. In a very short time Walmoden was brought over, and pending her arrival Lady Deloraine acted the part of understudy. “People must wear old gloves until they can get new ones,” was Sir Robert Walpole’s comment _to the Princesses_ on this arrangement, to which he had not only given his hearty approval, but as far as Madame Walmoden was concerned, strongly urged upon the King, as a duty he owed to his people to save his health breaking down under his grief, to bring her over.