Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 196: what you’re looking at

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ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOI"S OF AN ACTRESS, 183 which plunged Miss Howard into so dread a con- dition of penury. For months past she has lived in solitude and in wretchedness—friendless, as if she were society’s outcast; and now, as a last re- source, in order to saye herself from starving— for she is too proud to accept that which she looks upon as eleemosynary charity,—as a last resource, IT say, she is about to appear upon the stage.” “IT understand, Miss Trafford!” said the Mar- ehioness, still weeping. ‘She has found a friend in you!—you would have done much for her, but she would not permit you; and through your in- terest she has procured an engagement. Oh! I thank you!—sincerely do I thank you! But what more have you to tell me on her behalf ?” “‘ Miss Howard craves of your ladyship a single boon,” I proceeded to obserye,—“ the last which she will ever demand at your hands. It is that on those nights when she makes her appearance before a public audience, your ladyship will ab- stain from being present at the theatre.” _~ “QO Beatrice!—unhappy Beatrice |’? murmured the Marchioness: “has it come to this,—that you should dread to appear in a position from which you would shrink if the eye of your sister were upon you?” “Her sister?” i ejaculated, in amazement, “Ts it possible “Yes, yes—I am her sister!” replied the Mar- chioness. “The same father was the author of our being: but we had different mothers. Ah! I see, Miss Trafford, that Beatrice—for that is her real Christian name—has told you nothing of her antecedents. And no wonder! Alas, it is indeed no wonder that she should have been thus silent !” “She gave me not her confidence, and I did not seek it. It was sufficient for me,” I con- tinued, “that she came to me in sorrow and afilic- tion “Oh! and unworthy of the name of woman should I be,” exclaimed the Marchioness, “if I did not imitate so noble an example! Yes, yes— it must be sufficient for me likewise that she is in sorrow and affliction—and all the past must be forgotten! I will go to her——But, Ah! my husband !” The Marchioness of Campanella sank back upon the sofa from which she had half sprung up; and for a few moments she remained absorbed in re- flections that were evidently deep and painful. “I hope,” I said, in a gentle voice, “that there will be no barrier to the execution of your lady- ship’s generous purpose. You have spoken of the past which must be forgotten: but surely, surely there has been nothing criminal in the life of her whom you call Beatrice and whom you have acknowledged to be your sister P—Ah, I remem- ber! She declared that if aught fell from your lips to impair the good opinion which I had formed of her, she would on my return tell me everything; and she alluded to horrible things! Oh, believe me, my lady, she is very, very un- happy !—and it is next to impossible that witha mind so agitated as hers, she can achieve success in the sphere which she is about to enter !” “I declare to you most solemnly, Miss Traf- ford,” answered the Marchioness, “that if I were to obey the dictates of my own heart, I should speed at once to Beatrice—I should clasp her in my arms—and I should assure her that where I dwell, there henceforth is her own home. But I am bound to consult the wishes of my husband. To me he is all kindness, all goodness, all affection : but in one respect he is stern and peremptory — and he has commanded that the name of Beatrice shall never again be breathed in his presence. Oh! now that I have said so much, how can IL possibly conceal from you the truth ? Yes-—— alas that I should be compelled to make the reve lation !—Beatrice has erred; her name is covered with dishonour; she has disgraced the family to which she belongs; and heaven knows that you spoke ere now only too truly when you said that she seemed as if she were society’s outcast !” The profoundest mournfulness settled upon the countenance of the Marchioness of Campanella as she gave utterance to these words; and I reflected painfully for some minutes. “But are you sure,” I ejaculated at length,— “is your ladyship convinced that your sister Bea- trice has indeed erred? What meant she by de claring that if from your lips anything should fal to prejudice her in my estimation, she would revea. everything, although it would harrow her soul with horror? But yet her words could be taken in only one sense—they could mean but one thing,—and this is that she possesses the power of vindicating herself.” The Marchioness shook her head mournfully ; the tears again flowed from her eyes: but hastily wiping them away, she said, “ Listen, Miss Traf- ford! You are acting the part of a friend; and you must be made acquainted with everything. We may then consult how we may best serve the in- terests of the unhappy Beatrice; and you, in the charity of your disposition, will look mercifully upon her you will not cast her off altogether ?” “ Heaven forbid!” I exclaimed; “and unless the explanations which your ladyship is about to give me, carry incontrovertibility on the face of them—unless, indeed, the evidence be too conclusive to admit of a doubt—I shall endeavour to suspend my judgment until I have heard the answer from the lips of your sister Beatrice.” “Nothing can exceed the generosity of your conduct,” replied the Marchioness, taking my hand and pressing it warmly. ‘ But listen while I give the promised explanations.—My father,” continued the Marchioness of Campanella, “was an English gentleman, who in the earlier part of his life pos- sessed a handsome fortune : but partly by calamity, and partly by extravagance, he lost the greater portion of it. This happened in the lifetime of his first wife—my mother. They had not been mar- ried more than two years; and I was an infant of a few weeks old when the blow struck them. My father’s mansions were seized by his creditors ; and my poor mother sank under the misfortune. She died, leaving me an infant unconscious of the ter- tific loss which I thus sustained. Gathering toge- ther the wrecks of his property, my father repaired to Italy; and there, at the expiration of about eighteen months, he married a second time. In the gay city of Florence he encountered an Eng- lish lady who was possessed of considerable pro- perty ; and heespoused her. Beatrice was the off- spring of this union. My father did not profit by past experience: he plunged again into a course of extravagance as well as of reckless speculation; COMMUC 6)(6)) 6S Colm