Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 363: what you’re looking at

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

350 tap-room: the two sailors who had picked up the body, followed the Countess and landlord thither ; and the moment the door was thrown open, an Ominous object was discerned upon the table. A lantern dimly lighted the room,—which was of small dimensions, as well as of poor and sordid de- scription. The corpse was covered by an old cloth which had been thrown over it; and as one of the sailors lifted that cloth, he at the same time raised the lantern in such a manner that the dim flicker- ing light was thrown upon the countenance of the murdered man. That countenance was little in- jured by the fall from the cliff; but it subsequently transpired, from the surgical evidence given at the inquest, that the body and limbs were horribly mutilated and injured. One glance for Beatrice was sufficient!—she recognised her husband —it was indeed the Count of Carboni who had perished the victim of that horrible deed of assassination ! Beatrice turned away shuddering from the hideous spectacle; and she came back to the chaise in which I was waiting for her. The two sailors were close at her heels; for under the pre- tence of conducting her to the vehicle, they evi- dently sought to remind us that they were the individuals who had performed our bidding and had picked up the corpse. Beatrice was too much overcome by her harrowed feelings to compre- hend their meaning: but I hastened to make them a present of five guineas—and the chaise drove off. As it passed by the Mayor’s residence, I directed the driver to stop, that I might leave a message to inform his worship that the corpse had been identified; and we then proceeded to the hotel. It was now late; and thoroughly ex- hausted both in mind and body, Beatrice at once sought her couch. I remained with her until slumber stole upon her eyes; and then I repaired to my own chamber. We both rose at an early hour in the morning ; and we were seated at the breakfast-table, discuss- ing with a lingering sense of horror the incidents of the preceding evening, when a waiter entered and delivered a sealed packet to the Countess, ac- companied by the intimation that the Mayor had sent it with his respectful compliments. Beatrice hastened to open the packet the instant the waiter had withdrawn ; and she found that it contained several private papers belonging to the deceased Count, but amongst which was a sealed letter ad- dressed to herself. This address was in the hand- writing of her husband; and when she had perused the document which it contained, she handed it to me, As nearly as I can now recol- lect, the contents ran in the following strain :— “ The events which haye separated us for ever, Beatrice, sit so heavily upon my heart, that they seem to be crushing out the powers of life and rapidly arresting the vital springs of existence. I may die suddenly by the breaking of this heart of mine—or I may perish in the blood of a distracted suicide. I therefore write these few lines, to be delivered to you after my death, whensoever and howsoever it may heppen. There are moments when I feel as if I must take up my pen to write and implore that we may meet once again in this world, so that I may hear from your lips the repe- tition of that assurance of forgiveness which in the month of March last you vouchsafed when I sank —— dae ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. upon my knees before you and besought your pardon. But whether I shall ever have the courage to beseech this interview—or whether if I implored it, you would grant it, I know not! Therefore, at all events, I pen these lines, so as to assure myself that I shall not depart from this world without having renewed the expression of that deep affliction—that illimitable despair which I feel on account of all my horrible and diabolie conduct towards you ! *T have now something to tell you, Beatrice, You know that when I resigned to you the great bulk of my fortune and estates seven or eight months back, I made an exception in reference to the domain and chateau of Carboni. In deereeing this reservation I had more motives than one. In the first place I conceived that it would be not merely a flagrant insult, but a transcending ont- rage, to offer you that mansion which was the seene of my odious cruelty and of your ineffable wretchedness. In the second place I looked upon the spot as one that was accursed—a spot as com. pletely under heaven’s ban, as if if were the scene where gibbets are erected for the bleaching bones of murderers to swing and rattle in the cold night wind. And in the third place I was anxious that this spot whereof I am speaking should become the scene of an action whereby I might testify more than I had yet done the loathing sense that I entertain of my past iniquity. Listen therefore to the deed which I have accomplished for the furtherance of this aim. Upon parting from you after I had kneit at your feet and implored your forgiveness, I gave to a solicitor the requisite in- structions for the assignment of the great bulk of my property into your hands; and I then set out for Italy. I proceeded to the chateau of Carboni: I discharged the domestics who were there—I paid them all liberally—and I watched until the laet had left that mansion which [ held to be aceursed. It was the hour of sunset when I found myself alone there—sunset on an April evening, with the fresh breeze whispering around me, and wafting the perfume of the flowers that were folding their leaves! Thon I piled up quantities of dry wood in various places—I opened many of the doors and windows within the chateau to create a draught— and I set fire to the home of my ancestors. It was not with a fiendish rage nor with a malignant gloating that I did this: it was with a profound remorseful sense of the stupendous crimes which had led me to the accomplishment of such a catas- trophe. From a little distance I watched the conflagration. The farmers and peasants on the domain—the gardeners, the park-keepers, and the foresters—all hurried to the spot to proffer their assistance: but I sternly bade them leave the cha- teau to burn, for it was accursed! They gazed upon me with astonishment—they thought that f was mad: but I cared not. The mansion ap- peared to my view to be a temple of infamy—the monument of a horrible crime; and I resolved that its destruction should be complete. So I allowed not a single hand to be stretched forth to prevent the spread of the conflagration: but as the flames roared and the beams cracked—as all the splendid furniture was lapped up as it were by those lambent tongues of flame—I rejoiced; for I said within myself, ‘It is like the work of a just retribution !’ CONnNEDOOKS Com