Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 336: what you’re looking at

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ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS 823 during this speech—that the colour was going and coming in rapid transitions upon her cheeks —that the tears were gathering in her fine violet eyes—that her rich full lips were quivering—and that her bosom was rising and sinking with quick heavings. She was touched—she was moved: the bitterness she had for some time experienced towards the young nobleman was melting within her: her breast was softening with the returning sense of that love, once so passionate, with which she had regarded him; and it was in a tremulous voice that in reply to his question she said, “I will.” ' * But pause and reflect yet a little while,” re- sumed Lord Frederick, who having made a step forward as if to embrace her, had suddenly stopped short: “ pause and reflect, I sey, whether you will consent to follow the steps of a man whose for- tunes are desperate indeed! Embarrassed with debts— my independent means made away with— totally dependent therefore upon my father for the present, and on my brother who will succeed kim in the peerage and his hereditary estates—— mine is but @ sorry position for a bridegroom !” “You have asked me if I will live with you,” responded Juliet; “and I have replied in the affrmative—because as a wife it is my duty to obey my husband—and because the observations you have made seem to manifest—O God, I hope s0!—-contrition for the past! If therefore your lot be poverty, mine shall be poverty likewise, shared with you!” * Ah, Jaliet !” exclaimed Lord Frederick, “the wrongs you have suffercd at my hands have been siznal and terrible: and beholding you now, hand- some as you are—lhcaring the sound of your voice receiving fresh proofs of your kind and generous disposition, I feel astonished that I could ever have acted towards you as I have done! But when a man once commits a base aetion, he is compelled by the force of circumstances to perpe* trate a thousand other basenesses to sérve as de- fence-works for the first. This, Juliet, has been the case with me! And now I am ashamed to lock you in the face But, oh! I will kneel at your feet and implore your pardon !” * No—you must not kneel to mo!” exclaimed Juliet: and bounding forward, she threw herself into her husbend’s arms. Tt was a scene calculated as much fo astonish as to affect the minds of those who beheldit. It was impossible to suppoee that Lord Frederick was playing the part of a hypocrite now: there was no necessity for any such dissimulation. But there are few souls so utterly depraved as to be without their moments of weakness ; and the good angel takes advantage of those moments to infase better thoughts and better feelings into the heart that is thus melting, The solemnity of the bridal service had no doubt produeed its effect on the young man’s mind: then, when he again looked at his bride, he saw that ske wag a being of whose beauty any husband might be proud; and his former passion began to resuscitate itself within him. And then too, he had doubtless reflected, in @ more worldly-minded sense, that as she was now his wife he had better resign himself with the best possible grace fo the acceptation of his destiny ;— and he had probably reasoned also, that the only | excuse which he could offer to his parents and to Oo the world in general for having married a ballet- dancer, was the love with which she had inspired iim. Thus, all things taken into account, it was not really so much a subject for wonderment as it first appeared, that Lord Frederick should adopt the course which he was thus pursuing. When Juliet flew into his arms and wept audibly upon the breast to which she was strained, Mr. Norman turned aside to conceal his tears— Mrs. Norman sobbed as audibly as her daughter — and my tears were egain flowing fast, but for more reasons than one, “This is a happier result than we could possibly have anticipated,” whisperod my father, bending his face down to my ear, “ Yes—and in one sense it shall still be hap- pier!” I exelaimed, starting up from my seat. All eyes were now fixed upon me: for none but my father comprehended how sueh an observation had been evoked from my lips; while even he himself wag still ignorant of the significancy of my words, “ My lord,” I said, advancing towards the young nobleman, from whose embrace Juliet had disen- gaged herself in startled surprise at my abrupt ejaculation, “ you have spoken and you have acted in @ manner which has gone far to redeem you in the estimation of those who are now present.” “And I take heaven to witness my sincerity |” he exclaimed. “Juliet shall leave the stage—and we will repair together to the Continent until the state of my affairs can be thoroughly looked into. Perhaps my father will not prove altogether re- lentless. But if so; he will at least use hig in- fluence to procure me some smali post. by which I may earn my bread;—and I swear to you, Juliet,” he added, emphatically; “ that since you have agreed to share my poverty, I will never niake it the subject of reproach or dispute!” “You will see, my lord,” I said, “that your good angel has not altogether abandoned you, and that heaven has not utterly cast you off. You will not be doomed to poverty !—and Juliet, with- out being compelled to return to the stage, will prove to you the source of means to live in comfort, if not in positive affluence,—Juliet,’ I added, in a solermn tone, while the eyes of all present were fixed upon me in bewilderment and amaze, “ by the death of your auat Mrs. Oldeastle you are the heiress to an income of eight hundzed a@ year.” — “Ab, my poor aunt dead!” said Juliet, clasping her hands,—“ she who was so kind to me !” “ Mrs. Oldeastle doad !” ejaculated Mr. and Mré. Norman, as if both speaking in the game breath, “ Yes—it is so,” I replied. ‘‘ She breathed her last yesterday. The event is announced in a letter from Mary Glentworth, whiel arrived by this morning’s post, but which from various circum: stances I have only just opened.” There was a brief. pause, during which all pre- sent gave way to their reflections ; and then I read Mary Glentworth’s letter, the contents of which were as follow :-— * River House, Dover, * September 24, 1841, “My dearest Ellen, “Tt is my painful duty to announce a sad, sad event—ore which I know will afflict you greatly ; a COUN o(OO)|;< (COU