Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 223: what you’re looking at

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oe = ee ee ee 210 ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. dishonour thither ; ;—and it was enough for me to Need I state that we—the three horrified and suffer without carrying distress and affliction, | afflicted listeners—lavished upon her all possible shame and scandal, into the home of a sister whom | consolations ? or that she received from the Mar- I so dearly loved! I came to England: I buried quis and Marchioness the assurance that thence. myself in a seclusion which best suited my meagre ‘forth she should finda home with them? I left finances and my desolate spirit. Weeks and|it to her sister to inform Beatrice on a more months passed—penury stared me in the face—I fitting occasion all that had come to my know- awoke to the necessity of doing something to earn | ledge in respect to the Count of Carboni, and how my bread. I thought of the stage; for at the/| he gloated vindictively over the pictorial represen- Count’s chateau we often had private theatricals— tation of the appalling scene which she had been the only recreation to which he had been at all describing to us. The Marquis intimated that attached ; and I had received many flattering com- | some measures should be adopted to render, if pos- pliments upon the manner in which I had ac-| sible, the innocence of Beatrice apparent: but it quitted myself of the parts undertaken by me. Then it was that I applied to Miss Trafford. Oh! from your lips, my dear friend, did I receive the first syllables of sympathy which for a long, long period had greeted my ears. You exerted your- self on my behalf; and I received the promise of an engagement. One night—it was after I had parted from you at the private entrance of the theatre—I suddenly encountered my husband. Ejaculations burst from our lips; and it instan- taneously struck me that the measure of his vin- dictiveness was not yet filled, and that his ran- corous persecutions of his unhappy wife were now to be renewed. I even trembled | lest he should by some means haye learnt intention to appear upon the stage, and that fey meant to thwart and to expose me in order ‘that he might plunge me still more deeply down into the vortex of hopeless misery. He bade me follow him; and I obeyed. He led me into some secluded street—where he suddenly stopped, and sternly demanded what I wanted of him? I could only reply by putting a similar’ question, and asking what he mr of was agreed that nothing should be done until the maturest deliberations had taken place upon the subject. I bade a temporary farewell to my un: fortunate friend, her sister, and her brother-ins law; and I returned to Hunter Street, reflecting with varied feelings upon all that had, this day happened, and upon all that I had heard. CHAPTER XXXVIII. BEDA. On the following day, af about the hour of noon, I repaired according to promise, to Zarah’s lodg- ings: for I was not only desirous to see Beda, but I had likewise been reflecting whether through Zarah’s instrumentality in some way or another, the Count of Carboni might not be brought to the understanding and recognition of his wife’s inno- cence? Not that for an instant I deemed it pos- sible that the Count and Beatrice could ever again live tozether—or that the strong loathing which the peer ones lady naturally experienced towards me? He said that be bad renounced | me for ever —that I was no longer his wife—t oathed, detested, and abhorred oan it x4 bi had expected to meet me ¥ England, ould not have come hither. I to la him that I had nO r a ee anxiety to claim him as a husband than he had to acknowledge me as a wife—that I was passing under a feigned name—that I was necessitated to earn my bread by appearing upon the stage—and that if he would consent to keep the seal of silence upon his lips in reference to myself, I would ob- serve a corresponding forbearance with regard to him. He agreed; and we separated. ‘The re- mainder of my narrative may be summed upina few words. On that memorable day when you re: turned not to me, Miss Trafford, I thought that I had lost my only friend: I naturally conceived that from my sister’s lips you had heard sufficient to prejudice you against me—in short, that you had abandoned me utterly. Oh! I could not then ap- pear upon the stage—I felt that my heart was breaking—that my spirit was crushed! I fled from my humble lodging. It was my intention to quit for ever this great metropolis where my last hopes were destroyed, and where I dreaded lest at any moment I might encounter a sister and a brother-in-law who believed me guilty, and a friend who had become prejudiced against me. In the distracted state of my mind, I wandered amidst the mazes of this modern Babylon, until utterly Jost in its labyrinthine intricacies; and then, ex- her fiend-like persecutor, could ever be dispelled. But still it was important for her innocence to be recognised, so that she might be enabled to look the world in the face, and that there might not be any inconvenience in her residing with the Mar- quis and Marchioness of Campanella. But as for any settled plan in reference to the way in which I proposed to enlist Zarah’s services—I had really none. Indeed, the idea of adopting this course at all was only as yet floating dimly and vaguely in my mind. I reached the house in which the gipsy resided : and as [ was ascending to her sitting-room, I met upon the stairs a swarthy-faced Italian, dressed in a suit of black, with a white neck cravat, and having the air of a valet out of livery—as indeed I felé convinced that he was. He was short and slender—about thirty years of age—tolerably good- looking—yet with a certain expression of coun- tenance which even at the very first glance I did not much like. He however stood aside in a most respectful manner to aliow me to pass; and in a few instants more I was with Zarah. I found her alone, engaged with her books; and I was somewhat disappointed at not beholding Beda there. “She will be here presently,” said Zarah, read- ing my thoughts; “and I have so far paved the way in furtherance of your generous design, that hausted, I sank down on the doorstep of that very | my grandmother will consent to part with her, in house where you this evening found me.” the belief that she is coming to attend upon me. Beatrice ceased: her narrative was completed. | Thus, if after an interview with Beda you still >? mS ee eee > a OOOO OS eee oe ee ae CORNICE LOOKS, COM