Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 296: what you’re looking at

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——_— ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS, and serious, as was fitting for the solemn occasion. That ceremony terminated; the certificate was duly signed—Zarah took possession of it—the minister and his clerk withdrew. I was then all Buspense and anxiety. I more than half expected that St. Clair would turn round upon his bride, tell her that her ambition was now gratified, and that their pathways in the world thenceforth lay in different directions. As for Zarah herself, her de- meanour was that of a calm dignity, whatever her inward feelings might have been. There was a silence of perhaps a minute—buf certainly not more, after the minister and the clerk had with- drawn ; and then St. Clair said, with a voice of cold politeness, ‘Madam, I am prepared to con: duct you to your future home. Itis not my fault if the preparations have been so hurried, and in- deed have been of such a nature as to render it inconvenient for a better equipage to be in attend- ance than that which if now waiting at the door. I presume that this young female,’ he added, alluding to me, ‘ has your instructions in reference to a certain matter to which I need not more par- ticularly refer. —‘ Yes,’ responded Zarah : ‘ this faithful girl will procure the packet from the hands of the friend to whom it has been consigned ; and she will commit it to the flames. You may rely upon her.’—‘I know that she is perfectly trust- worthy,’ remarked Captain St. Clair; and me- thought there was a slight tincture of bitterness in his tone, beneath its glacial surface, as if he re- membered how signally he failed in his endeavours to bribe and tempt me. Zarah hastened to em- brace me in a most fervid manner: she then ac- cepted the arm which her husband with cold politeness offered her ; and they descended from the room. He handed her into the vehicle, which immediately drove away in the direction of the Regent’s Park. I watched its departure from the window ; and then I also left the lodging-house— with difficulty however escaping from the torrent of questions overwhelmingly put by the landlady and the servant-maid, who intercepted me in the pas- sage. And thus, my dear Miss Percy, all is accom- plished! The once obscure gipsy is now the bride of Edwin St. Clair! I need not add that the part- ing mission which was confided to me—of seeking the faithful friend to procure the restitution of the packet, and to commit it to the flames—was a mere fiction, no such packet having been confided to any such friend at all!” “There is only one thing which I could have wished to have been differently managed,” I re- marked, as all the perfidy which had. been accom- plished by Lord Frederick Ravenscliffe towards Juliet Norman came up into my mind. “TI should be better satisfied if some proof had been afforded that the clergyman was really what he represented himself to be.” “Ob, my dear Miss,” exclaimed Beda, delighted at being enabled to ease my mind on that point, “there can be no doubt that the minister who officiated was really the Reverend Mr. Calvert of Saint parish: for amidst the multitudinous questions with which the landlady of the house sought to overwhelm me, she mentioned that gentleman’s name. She had recognised both him and his clerk as they were taking their leave.” “TI am indeed rejoiced to hear this statement, Beda,” I observed. “And now may heaven so 283 rule Zarah’s destiny that she shall never repent the step which she has this day taken !” The same wish was echoed by Beda;—and I then proceeded to the mansion of the Earl and Countess of Carshalton. CHAPTER XLIx. THE PARDON, ON arriving at Carshalton House, I was at once introduced into the presence of the Earl and Countess, who received me with the kindest wel- come; and I saw by their looks that the hope which I had formed was not destined to be de- ceived, but that they had agreeable intelligence for me. The Countess almost immediately began by giving me the assurance that the secret of my birth had been faithfully kept, and that not even to ally member of their family had they mentioned the fact that I was the daughter of the delinquent clergyman. “ And here,” said the Earl of Carshalton, pro- ducing a sealed packet of official shape and dimen- sions, “is your father’s pardon.” A strange wild feeling of joy seized upon my heart at that moment: I sank upon my knees— with both my hands did I clasp the hand which proffered me that precious document : but the Earl raised me up, and the Countess kissed me on both cheeks. “You know not, my dear Miss Percy,” she said, “ the pleasure which his lordshippand myself ex- perience in being enabled to render you this little service. Itisa free pardon, without any specific condition contained therein : but remember, it has been granted onthe understanding that the affair is to be kept as secret as possible. It is an unpleasant subject to dwell upon,” continued ‘her ladyship ; “but still it is necessary that you should be made acquainted with certain particulars. His lordship had perhaps better explain them.” “The explanations can be speedily given,” said the Earl. Suppose, Miss Percy, for example’s sake, any individual recognising your father in England, and having a spite against him, should seek to hand him over into the custody of the law’s officers—the production of that document would prove sufficient to induce any constable or other authority to decline interference in the matter.” “ Then, heaven be thanked!” I said, while tears of joy rolled down my cheeks, “my father may once again tread the soil of his native land without apprebension of danger !” With a heart full of emotion I poured forth the expressions of my gratitude for the immensity of the fayour thus bestowed upon me: but the Harl and Countess declared that they should still always esteem themselves my debtors. “There is now another thing in reference to which I must speak,” saic the Earl of Carshalton, * Neither the Countess nor myself have forgotten the interesting circumstance that your attendant, Beda Robinson, is the daughter of those worthy gipsies who restored our own child to our arms, and who thus relieved our minds from an excrus clating sense of agony. Beda’s parents were wont > GOmiGcdoo <S Com