Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 345: what you’re looking at

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

ee en regener aon . — a 332 weigh with him and induce him to behave honour- ably. It was evident that his career had reached a crisis to which he himself must give the tucn ; for after the manner in which the matter had been put to him by my father, he could only contem- plate the two alternatives of payment or flight. I must candidly confess that the thought of what the morrow might bring forth kept me awake for a considerable portion of the night; and when [I arose in the morning, it was with a fluttering and suspenseful sensation at the heart which I could not possibly control. I was seated in my chamber, while Beda was combing out my hair, when Mary Glentworth, who was already up and dressed, made her appearance. This amiable girl was most devotedly attached to me: she loved me as if I were a sister—but an elder sister to whose opinion she would in all things defer. She now came to consult me upon a particular subject; and not suspecting that there was any reason why it should not be discussed in the presence of Beda, she at once said, “ I have been thinking, my dear Ellen, that it is my duty to call with the least possible delay upon my uncle Mr. Glentworth. He lives in London, you know “You can retire, Beda, now,” I said: “I can perform the remainder of my toilet without your assistance.” The young girl at once glided from the room ; and when she was gone,I said to Mary, “ But you do not know the address of Mr. Glent- worth ?” “ True !” she exclaimed : “but surely it can be found by inquiry ? I know there are Guides to the residences of the gentry in this huge metro- polis; and I am sure that my uncle must bea gentleman—he is my poor oe brother, you know—and he is evidently well off, as he allows me two hundred and fifty pounds a year.” “Do you not think, Mary,” I said, considerably embarrassed how to act in the present case, “ that your uncle may have reasons for desiring that you should not call upon him P” ““What possible reason could he have?” ex- claimed Miss Glentworth in astonishment. “ It only seemed to me that he used to visit the cottage at River under circumstances of privacy,” I calmly observed. “ True! it never struck me before!” ejaculated Mary Glentworth: and she seemed to be some- what troubled and perplexed by the thought. I feared that I had said too much, and I has- tened to observe, “ Relatives, you know, have sometimes peculiar reasons for their modes of ac- tion. Look at the case of Mrs. Oldcastle !—so long keeping herself estranged from the Nor- mans, and then leaving them—or at least to Juliet —the bulk of her property at last! I think, Mary, that it is always better for us to take sug- gestions from the conduct of our relatives with regard to the conduct which we ourselves should observe towards them.” “Tt may be so, Ellen,” replied Mary: “ but look how I am situated towards this uncle of mine! He is the only relative whom I know on the face of the earth ; and he has a right to be acquainted with my proceedings. He knew that I obtained a home at River House: but now that death has snatched away the excellent lady who gave me that asylum, am I not bound to inform ELLEN PERCY; OBR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. my uncle where I have found another happy home? He is my natural guardian —— Besides,” ejaculated Miss Glentworth, “how will he now know where he is to transmit me my income as it becomes due ?” “ Ah, I forgot that!” I said, struck by the ob. servation : and becoming more and more embar- rassed how to treat the subject, I affected to be pasy at my drawers in selecting articles for my toilet. “Therefore you see,” continued Miss Glent- worth, ingenuously, ‘‘it is absolutely requisite for more reasons than one that I should endea- ee to find out my uncle and communicate with im.” “Will you leave it to me, dear Mary,” I said, “to think over the subject—and if necessary, to make the proper inquiries? . There is no hurry for a few days.” “Ellen, do explain yourself!” cried Mary, ad- vancing towards me and taking my hand, while she gazed up into my countenance in an appeal- ing manner, “It seems to me as if there were some mystery which I cannot fathom—as if you knew something which I do not IT can scarcely explain myself—but new ideas are agitating in my brain ™ I reflected for a few moments; I was pained and distressed by the turn which the conversae tion had taken, I did not wish to reveal the mystery of Mary’s birth; and yet I did not see how it was possible to hide it much longer. “ Will you do me the favour I have asked?” I at length said: “will you be patient for a few days?” **Now I am more than ever convinced,” ex- claimed Mary, “that you have something to re- veal—that there ave circumstances known to you, but hitherto undreamt of by me! Yet I will not press you farther, Ellen. I love you—I know that you are my friend—and I am convinced that in whatsoever you may do, you are acting for the best. I will not,” she added, in a mild and affec- tionately docile manner, “renew the subject until you yourself may think fit to revive it.” So soon as I was again alone, after breakfast, I seriously reflected on the discourse which had taken place between myself and Mary Glent- worth. When I had first proposed that the Nor- mans’ house should henceforth be her home, my mind was under the influence of the feelings pro- duced by Mrs. Oldcastle’s death, and I had not leisure to reflect on whatsoever inconveniences might arise from the circumstance of bringiag Mary to London. Besides, how was it possible tc avoid offering a home to the amiable girl who had no home elsewhere to fly to? Nevertheless, a serious embarrassment was now arising. It would be impossible to persuade Miss Glentworth for any lengthened period that she must not seek out her supposed uncle: and then too, in the chapter of accidents, it was inevitable that she must sooner or later meet the Duke of Ardleigh, to whom she would naturally present herself, no matter who might be with him at the time. But how could I tell Mary the whole truth ?—how with a single word destroy the sublime faith which she enter- tained in the purity and virtue of her deceased mother’s character ?—how could I bring myself to make the announcement which should shock CONMEMOOO!< ¢oim