Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 157: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

er | “ re a a tN 144 ———— ELLEN PERCV; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS, of Lord Frederick’s villany—the letter which he wrote to me at Embledon, begging and imploring that I would send him a certificate in order to quiet Juliet’s importunities.” “ And what if you met Lord Frederick at Lady Cecilia’s house ?” I asked, trembling with appre- hension. “Oh! my dear child,” responded my father, “I have been too much accustomed to dangers and difficulties in the world not to proceed cautiously. I will in the first instance make inquiries, and ascertain whether Lord Frederick be at her lady- ship’s house or not. In a word, trust to me, dear Ellen—and tranquillize these alarms.” We had proceeded slowly together along the gravel walk while thus conversing—TI leaning on my father’s arm. We now sat down on a bench, behind which there was a mass of evergreens. “T mean to permit myself the indulgence of your society, dear Ellen,” said my father, “for a few minutes longer: forI shall not again see you ere I leave England. I shall write to you the issue of my interview with her ladyship; so that you may make to your friends whatsoever com- munication you shall think fit.” } | “Oh, my dear father!’ I said, “for heaven’s sake be upon your guard! Iam full of appre- hensions for your safety 4s “Let me endeavour to tranquillize them,” re- plied my father. “There are only five persons in all England who are acquainted with the fact that I am the escaped felon, Charles Percy, now pass- ing under the name of Croft.” * Hush! for God’s sake hush!” I murmured, fullof terror. ‘“ Why breathe these words ** Because, my dear child,” responded my father, “T can never too often remind myself of what I have become. But in respect to these five per- sons, there are the lawyer and his wife—and they would not betray me: there are the Earl and his son—the former I need not dread; the latter, even if I encountered him, would scarcely dare to play a hostile part, for he knows not that con- siderations on account of your friends would bind me to secrecy. lastly, there is your- self *“No—there is another!” exclaimed a voice, which I at once recognised: and at the same in- stant the individual sprang forth from amidst the evergreens. A low half-stifled duriek: burst from my lips; for if was Edwin St. Clair who thus made his appearance, He immediately seized my father by the collar, saying, “ Dare not attempt to fly! dare not attempt to use violence!—or I will shout for succour! Be tranquil—and you may yet go hence in security!” Oh, that evil genius, St. Clair! In a moment I comprehended it all. He was mufiled in a pale- tot: it was he who had recognised me at the gate; and he had evidently dogged me in a cautious manner and with stealthy steps. My father was for a moment transfixed to the spot with conster- nation—while I threw my arms in wild agony around him. But those Jast words from St. Clair’s lips elicited from my father the quickly uttered question, “ What terms have you to dictate? and who are you?” “Your daughter knows who I am,” hastily re- sponded St. Clair ; and she can be ‘at no loss to _—- conjecture the terms to which TI allude. Ihave heard enough to tell me who yow are, and to know that you are completely in my power. An escaped felon cannot possibly have much compunction in surrendering up to me his daughter as my mistress —especially as I can give him wealth, in the same way that I will surround that daughter herself with riches.” “Villain!” exclaimed my father, endeavouring to shake him off: “unhand me, or I will strike you down! Call for succour if you will—give me into custody: but imagine not for a moment that I will yield to your threats or your tempta- tions !” Unable to speak, I was still clinging to my father,—all my ideas in horrible confusion, save and except for the comprehension of what was passing between himself and St. Clair. At that desperate but vain effort which he made to shake St. Clair off, I clung all the more tightly to him; and then, my tongue being loosened, I exclaimed, “ For heaven’s sake provoke him not, father ! 0 God! I knew what it would be! my apprehen- sions were all but too well grounded! and this is the frightful result!” “ Console yourself, my dear child,” responded my father, in a voice tremulous with emotion. *“ Unhand me, sir! I swear that I will not at- tempt to flee away: but I beseech you to be mer: ciful to me for the sake of my daughter !” “Yes—I unhand you,” answered St. Clair, “ because at the very first evidence which you give of an attempt to escape, T shall precipitate myself upon you and raise an alarm. Listen, sir! I first wooed your daughter honourably—and she rejected my proposal. I do not hesitate to admit that I subsequently spread snares to entrap her— and she escaped from them all. She has baffled me—she has humiliated me: I have love and re- venge to gratify at the same time !” ** Enough, sir !” exclaimed my father. “TI see that you area villain; and I would sooner perish on the scaffold than place my own child in your power. Now do your worst! But stay !—let me bid farewell “Ellen!” ejaculated St. Clair, “will you see your own father dragged hence as a felon, with chains upon his hands?—will you behold him placed in the dock?—will you yourself have it proclaimed to the world that the brilliant Miss Trafford is the daughter of an escaped convict P” “No, no!” I exclaimed: “I would die sooner than one tittle of all this should happen! Oh, Captain St. Clair ** Appeal not to me, Ellen!” he interrupted me in a pitiless voice: “Iam inexorable! Decide!” —and he again laid his hand upon my father’s coat. “Am I to raise my voice? am I to send forth the cry which shall bring hither those who will drag your parent away to gaol ?” “No!” I ejaculated, a sudden recollection striking me, and which was previously lost in the anguish of my mind and the confusion of my thoughts. “Beware, villain, what your own fate may be!”’—and then I added with as much terrible significancy as I could possibly fancy might attach itself to the words, “ He who smells the white rose, sleeps the sleep of death !” The reader will remember how sudden, how ap- palling, and how overwhelming was the effect pro- <=) COMMIC OOO Colm