Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 353: what you’re looking at

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

OL SS 340 ee ae eee ee ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. “ Or perhaps we ought to take a constable with | us,” ejaculated my father, “and give him into custody for forgery, embezzlement, robbery, and fraud of every infamous description !” “Tet us then seek the advice of some clever attorney,” I said. “For God’s sake, my dear father, do nothing rashly! Remember,” I added impressively, ‘Parks is acquainted with the ter- rible secret of your life; and it were utter mad- ness to provoke him to give publicity thereto, if we at the same time shall be doing no good to ourselves in respect to this money.” ‘We will at all events go to him at once, Ellen!” cried my father, who was so maddened by rage as to be scarcely capable of listening to the voice of reason or the suggestions of prudence. “We will confront the villain—we will hear what he has to say And besides,” added my father, clutching at a straw of hope even in the midst of his boiling passion, “it is just possible, Ellen— and only just possible—that he may have by acci- dent given you that blank slip of paper instead of the cheque which he had drawn out ?” “ Yes, yes—it is possible!” I said, not precisely catching at a hope, but clutching at something which might serve as a means of appeasing my father’s almost frenzied anger. “ Well, then,” he rejoined, “let us suspend our judgment. But, Ah! we will take Hunter Street in our way—you shall just glance at the deed of conveyance which he gave you in respect to the house at Leeds—and you shall see whether that likewise has become a blank or not.” « And if not, dear father,’ I hastened to reply, “there is some hope—tell me, is there not some hope that it may after all prove a mistake in re- spect to the draft P” “Yes, yes!” exclaimed my father: “the matter will certainly look less suspicious !” He gave a fresh instruction to the cabman; and we proceeded to Hunter Street. There he waited in the cab while I proceeded up-stairs to my cham- ber; and it was with nervously trembling hands that I unlocked the writing-desk. A thrill of joy swept through my heart as I opened the docu- ment: the writing upon that parchment was as black, as clear, and as legible as it was at the first moment when my eyes glanced over it at the law- yer’s office on the preceding day. Restoring the deed to the desk—which I carefully locked again —I sped down the stairs; and the moment I ap- proached the cab, my father read in my counte- nance the result of my investigation. I took my seat in the vehicle again; and it drove away in the direction of the Square at the West End where the house of Mr. Parks was situated. ‘‘Then there is indeed hope!” ejaculated my father, as I told him that the conveyance deed was precisely in the same state as when first delivered into my hands. “With this impression, therefore,” I observed, you will with a becoming calmness and compo- sure seek the presence of Mr. Parks?” “Yes, yes!” replied my parent: “I will afford him the fullest opportunity of rectifying the error —if an error it be. And truly it may prove so!— I may have been too quick in jumping at a con- clusion !—for now that I recollect, there were seve- ral slips of paper lying about on his desk How- ever, we shall soon know!” disengaged too. us instantly ! a similar opinion. his master’s private office, where the business of of October ! he laughed heartily. In a few minutes we reached the lawyer’s resi- dence; and both of us glanced forth with eager- ness at the windows, to see if there were any signs of a flight having taken place during the past night. But the footman in the gorgeous livery was standing at the front door, angrily dismissing a beggar who had audaciously (as the lacquey thought) summoned him to solicit alms; and at the sight of the servant my heart was cheered. The domestic hastened to open the door of the cab; and my father, in a voice of forced composure, in- quired, “Is your master at home ?” “Yes, sir,” replied the lacquey; “and he is Please to walk in.” At home—and not denied to us—but about to receive us with as much readiness as if he had ex- pected our visit and had bidden his footman admit This certainly was a good sign!— and my father’s looks showed that he entertained The lacquey conducted us to the preceding day had been transacted; and there we found Mr. Parks seated at his desk. On our names being announced, he rose—not with that diffident and abashed air with which he had met us the day before, but with the ready off-hand assurance of one who felt as if he had put himself entirely right with regard to us, “Ah! how do you do?” he exclaimed. “ Pray sit down. A fine day—isn’t it? Beautiful wea- ther, consicering that we are now in the first week By the bye, Miss Percy, may I ask when you are to appear again? for I have some friends coming up from the country in a few days, who are most anxious to see you.” “T am not to appear again for a fortnight, Mr. Parks,’ I replied, in a courteous tone; for I felt convinced by his off-hand unembarrassed manner that everything was right, and that we in our suspicions had accused him of a crime when it might only be an accident of which he himself was stillignorant. “On account of the death of my relative, Mrs. Oldcastle, I consider it decent and becoming to withdraw from the theatre for a brief period.” “True!” ejaculated Parks: “ quite proper! And now, to what may I ascribe the unexpected plea- sure of this visit ?” “ A little mistake has occurred,” said my father, now acting the part of spokesman,—“ but a mis- take which I see is unknown to you.” “ A mistake P Indeed !” ejaculated Mr, Parks, with a look which fully confirmed my idea that he was innocent of the detestable fraud which we had imputed to him. ‘ What sort of a mis- take P” “ One that you can rectify in a few moments,” rejoined my father. “Only think of what a fright we have beenin! Look here! Instead of giving us the cheque, you gave us this slip of blank paper.” “The deuce!” exclaimed Mr. Parks, with a look of perfect amazement, as he took the paper from my father’s hand. “ Well, ’pon my soul! this is the strangest mistake that ever was made !”—an¢ “Blank P So it is! blank on both sides!”—then with another laugh he tore up the slip and tossed it into his waste-paper basket. “ Yes, it is a droll mistake,” said my father, now ne ——EeEeee eee CONnNIEDOOKS Com