Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 357: what you’re looking at

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SS 344 hand; and pressing it, with effusion, exclaimed, ‘Oh, dearest Ellen! such a discovery |” I trembled: for I knew that it must be some- thing relative to her supposed uncle—her real father, the Duke of Ardleigh. But veiling my agitation, I said, “ What is it, Mary ?”’ “‘ My uncle—I have seen him!” she cried, half bewildered with joy. “ And did he see you?” I hastily demanded. “No: the carriages passed so rapidly. But I knew himin a moment! Oh, yes—I knew him! it was impossible to mistake him! And, Oh! what a splendid carriage was he seated in!— armorial blazonry upon the panels—the coachman on the box and the two footmen behind in gorgeous liveries, and with their hair powdered! Ah, I told you that Mr. Glentworth must be a gentleman; but I had not an idea that he was so rich as this !” “And he did not see you?” I said, scarcely knowing what I did say; for I was musing ina perplexed and painful manner. “No—he did not see me,” rejoined Mary: “he was seated with a stout red-faced gentle- man 33 “ Mr. Peaseblossom,” I mentally ejaculated. “ And he had something in his hand—I think it must have been a violin—but I really could not tell. Oh! now Iam resolved to take some mea- sures to find him out—at least with your consent; for of course I would not do anything without And you must remember, dear Ellen, that for the ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS, at Dover, where it appeared the Duke and Duchess were temporarily staying with their family, previous to passing over to the Continent, as they were going to spend the winter in Italy. The Duke informed me that my letter relative to Mary had given him great pain, and that he was most anxious to see me, if only for a few minutes, previous to his leaving England. He said that for certain reasons (which he did not however ex- plain) it was quite impossible for him to come up to London; and he entreated me, as I was in the secret and was Mary’s friend, to run down to Dover and grant him an interview. He intimated how such a meeting might be arranged; and wound up by a renewed entreaty that I would grant his request. Now it happened singularly enough that almost at the same time that I received this letter, a footman from the Marquis of Campanella’s brought me a note from Beatrice di Carboni, to the effect that she was going to Dover—that the Marquis and Marchioness were unable to accompany her —and that she appealed to my friendship to be her companion for the trip. A hint, contained in a couple of lines, gave me to understand that it was for something in connexion with her husband that she was desirous to pay a flying visit to Dover. For Mary Glentworth’s sake I was al- ready inclined to grant the Duke of Ardleigh his request ; and the opportunity of being accom- panied by the Countess of Carboni, confirmed me in the idea. I therefore despatched an aflfirma- last fortnight I have not alluded to the subject, ; tive answer to Beatrice,—specifying the following although you promised me that in the course of | day asthe one on which I should be enabled to a few days you would tell me how I should act?” | staré on the journey; for circumstances fortu- ‘“ Yes—and I have been thinking of it,” I an-| nately enabled me to obtain a dispensation from swered. “Now I must again ask you, dearest Mary, to be guided by my advice? Indeed, I will see into this matter af once.” “ Ah, then you know something of which I am ignorant !” exclaimed Mary. “I thoughtso: I was sure of it! But have your own way. I know that you are my dearest friend, and that whatever you do is for my good. Only keep me not in suspense longer than you can help, I con- jure you, dear Ellen !” “ No—I will not,” I responded, deeply affected by the sweet confiding manner in which the amiable girl addressed me. ‘‘ Do not speak to me again on this subject until I myself renew if, and then it shall be to tell you something decisive.” On reaching Hunter Street, I repaired to my own chamber to write a letter to the Duke of Ardleigh. During the fortnight which had elapsed since Mary Glentworth first broached the topic, I had postponed from day to day the disagreeable task of renewing any communication with that nobleman: but now I was determined to procras- tinate it no longer, for the matter was becoming serious. I therefore wrote to him in a guarded strain, for fear lest the letter should fall into the hands of others; and I sent it to the post. All the next day elapsed without bringing any answer; and I was surprised at the circumstance. The next day likewise passed iu silence so far as th Duke of Ardleigh was concerned; and I dreaded lest my letter should have been intercepted by his imperious, jealous wife. The ensuing morning’s post, however, brought me the anxiously expected response. It was dated from the Ship Hotel rr ee eee attendance at the theatre on the evening of the day next ensuing, so that I could command four clear days for the purpose. To Mr. and Mrs. Norman, as well as to Mary Glentworth, I merely stated that I was going to accompany the Countess of Carboni (with whom they knew I was well acquainted) on a flying visit to Dover: but I of course promised the Normans that I should call at River House to see Lord and Lady Frederick Ravenscliffe. In the morning of the following day the Coun- tess of Carboni called for me in the Marquis of Campanella’s travelling-carriage ; and I was soon seated by her side in the vehicle. I should ob- serve that I did not take.Beda with me on the present occasion. “This is most kind of you, my dear Ellen !” said Beatrice: “for I should not have liked to travel alone—which would have been the case were it not for your goodness in bearing me com- pany. My sister the Marchioness is suffering, as you know, with a very severe cold; and the Mar quis has important business which retains him in London.” “ And it is your husband, my dear Beatrice,” I said, “ whom you are going to see?” “Yes,” she responded, with a mournful look: “and you can easily comprehend that I dread the interview. You were kind enough to inform me the other day how it had come to your knowledge that he had settled in a cottage in the neighbour- hood of Dover; and the intelligence proves to be strictly correct. He desires to see me for the last time, if only for a few minutes. The lettor CORNICLOOKS Gom