Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 185: what you’re looking at

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

——————— li ee) a ee ee OC 172 together to Juliet’s chamber. My poor friend was lying upon the sofa: and she had loosened all her garments ; for, as I subsequently learnt, she had felt as if she were about to swoon. She had like- wise rung the bell and desired the maid to fetch me ; for she was afraid of being left alone in her chamber, lest she should sink completely off into a fit. Indeed, she was so unwell when Mrs. Old- castle and myself entered the room, that she did not immediately perceive her relative was with me. I supported her in my arms; and Mrs. Old- castle, advancing towards her, spoke most kindly and affectionately. Juliet was galvanized by her voice into completest life once more; and she stared almost wildly upon the old lady. “You are better now, my dear child,” said Mrs. Oldcastle. “I will leave you with your friend ; and I hope that presently you will be enabled to join me in the drawing-room.” Having thus spoken, Mrs. Oldcastle somewhat abruptly quitted the chamber. “Good heavens, how wretched and miserable I am, Ellen!” exclaimed Juliet, throwing her arms about my neck and weeping passionately, “ What has she been saying to you? Does she suspect— does she know 5 “ She knows nothing,” I hastily replied ; “‘ forI would not for the world betray your secret.” I then gave Juliet a rapid outline of what had taken place between her aunt and myself; and I concluded by observing, “If you were to follow my advice, Juliet, you would tell her every- thing.” “Let me think over it,” said Juliet: “itis a step that must not be taken in a hurry, and at all events not without the concurrence of my parents. Return to her—or she will think I am worse than I realiyam. Leave me to myself a little: I am quite well now—the indisposition has passed— and I will rejoin you presently in the drawing- room.” I complied with my friend’s request; and I re- turned to the drawing-room. There Mrs. Old- castle was seated, just as if she had never once quitted her upright prim position in the chair which she occupied. “T have been thinking, Miss Percy,” she at once said, “ upon all that has passed between us ; and as I am convinced that you yourself are truthful, I shall act upon the assurance you have given me in respect to Juliet. You will presently see how.—And now, if you will not think me im- pertinent, might I ask a question in reference to yourself ? I understand that you are an orphan: do you happen to know if there be any kinship between yourself and a family of the same name that dwelt a long time back in one of the northern counties ?” “Good heavens—yes!” I exclaimed. ‘“ But why do you ask? Oh! I remember that when my name was first mentioned to you, Mrs. Old- castle, you appeared startled and surprised! Yes —and you are agitated now!” * Do you mean to tell me, Ellen,” she asked, with rapid utterance, and for the first time calling me by my Christian name,—“ do you mean to tell me that you belong to a family which was associated with the Forsyths and the Wakefields >” “Yes, yes!—that is my family! My unfortu- nate father & > ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. But I stopped short; and I trembled exces. sively—for I saw by Mrs. Oldcastle’s look and manner that my father’s guilt of former days was no secret to her. Her eyes were fixed upon me with a degree of compassionate interest which I had previously thought her countenance to be but little capable of expressing. | “My poor child,” she said, “ this is a most sin- gular coincidence. Perhaps there is even some- thing providential in it! Your father—the un- fortunate Charles Perey——for I will not use harsher language while speaking of him—— was the nephew of my husband—the only son of that husband’s much loved sister !” * Yes—this is strange indeed!” I murmured, as Mrs. Oldcastle kissed me several times upon the forehead. “Tt is not however singular,” she proceeded to observe, “‘ that the Normans should never have sus- pected the connexion : for they knew nothing of my husband, nor of his family or relations.—And your father, Ellen—he has long since been dead— has he not ?” The tears were streaming down my cheeks ; and after some hesitation, I murmured, “ No—he yet lives !” “He lives!” ejaculated Mrs. Oldcastle in as- tonishment. “ A rumour of his death was long ago wafted to me—I remember not precisely how But where is he ?” * Oh, do not ask me!” I exclaimed, with pas- sionate grief; for I thought that if ever Mrs. Oldcastle should learn the secret of Juliet’s mis- fortunes, she would at the same time-comprehend that the Mr. Croft who was so fatally connected therewith, was none other than my own father, —I mean that she would make this discovery if I were now to reveal to her that he was passing under that name of Croft. * ‘Yes—I understand, poor child!” she said, again kissing me: “it is only too painful a sub- ject for you!”—and she evidently thought my father was still in a penal colony. “Are the Normans acquainted , * No—Oh, no!” Texclaimed: “thaé is a secret which I would not have known even to my best and dearest friends !” “ And this secret shall be kept inviolate,” said Mrs. Oldcastle. “ Nothing of all that has now taken place between us, need be mentioned—none of these explanations—no, not even the fact that there is the slightest kinship betwixt yourself and me! At the same time, my dear Ellen, rest as- sured that I shall not forget that which we never- theless agree to retain secret. Continue to be a good girl—as you now are; and you shall find at my death that I have not failed to remember you. And now not another word !” Thus speaking, Mrs, Oldcastle again kissed me; and she placed her finger upon my lips to silence the expressions of gratitude to which I was about to give utterance in acknowledgment of her gene- rous intentions towards me. We resumed our seats; and we had scarcely composed our looks, when Juliet made her appearance. “ My dear girl,” said Mrs. Oldcastle, after a kind inquiry how she felt, “you may make your arrangements to accompany me to Dover to- morrow. You shall at least pass a week with me; and if at the expiration of that time you wish to CONNIEDIOOKS Com