Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

xwwe—— ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. = apartment were now busy in the arrangements of the table. ** Ellen,” he said in a low voice, but which was tremulously clear, “is it possible that I could have misunderstood you, or that you could have misun- derstood me at the theatre the other night? for I know you too well to believe for an instant that you would be guilty of a heartless coquetry. In- deed, I would not insult you by such a suspicion!” “Yes—there must have been some serious mis- understanding,” I answered, quivering with ner- vous agitation: “and, Oh! Captain St. Clair, I shall be very, very unhappy if through any folly or in- advertence on my part But no!” I suddenly in- terrupted myself, as I regained my presence of mind: “TI merit not the reproach of either folly or inadvertence ; and as for coquetry, I am incapable of it. But 1 was so shocked with the idea of that duel the spectacle of your injured arm pro- duced such an effect upon me and there were other reasons—other feelings indeed in a word, Captain St. Clair, my brain was in a whirl—I was not the mistress of myself—and as heaven is my witness, I scarcely comprehended all that you said to me at last!” “Ts this possible, Ellen P” and St. Clair. looked at me with an earnestness as if to penetrate into all the purposes of my soul and fathom its very depths. “Tt is true, Captain St. Clair!’ I responded, steadily meeting that gaze for a sufficient time to prove my sincerity—though at length my looks sank beneath it, as the blush of confusion rose up to my cheeks, * But one word, Ellen!—one word!” said St. Clair, in a feverish state of the most anxious sus- pense. ‘ AmTJ an object of indifference to you?” An object of indifference Captain St. Clair can never be,’ I replied; “for he has laid me under too many obligations. Gratitude has engendered friendship * Friendship? O Ellen, that is a cold word!” he interrupted me; “and after all that I had hoped— all that I had fancied—all that I had believed—it falls like ice upon my heart! Good heavens, under what a delusion have I been labouring! The other night I spoke as delicately and considerately as I could; for I did not choose to have the appearance of ungenerously availing myself of the little ser- vices I had rendered you, in order to urge my own suit. But you gave me to understand that you would be mine—that you would renounce all idea of going upon the stage—that our engagement for the present was to be kept a secret until the requisite arrangements a “Captain St. Clair,’ I interrupted him, “ you know not how ineffable is the pain which your words occasion me! Alas, I feel that they are in- deed only to true! I now comprehend it all!—that which was before dim, hazy, and obscure, has be- come light and transparent. I am shocked at the error which has occurred; and though inno- cent Oh! God knows, that I am innocent of any wilful deception or dissimulation!—yet do I blame myself—I could weep in very anger, vexa- tion, and despair at my own weakness and absence of self-command !” “ But it is impossible, Ellen, that you can plunge me into such misery!” said St. Clair vehemently; 45 for the servant-girls at the other end of the spacious Se erie a pailile that you can dash down and break the golden bowl of hope which you yourself placed in my hands!—or that you can all in a moment distinguish the lustre of that ineffable star on which my adoring gaze has been fixed! Say not that you will do it, Ellen !—admit that things have gone too far! Some days have elapsed since that conversa- tion at the theatre I have seen you daily—and if in consequence of the Normans’ presence I touched not upon the subject, it was because of that agreement of secresy ? “ Captain St. Clair, listen to me!” I interrupted him: and again I was armed with all my self-pos- session. “ Deeply, deeply do I deplore the misunder- standing which has occurred, and which must even tend to place my conduct in a peculiar —aye, al. most indelicate light—unless you in your gene- rosity give me credit for the sincerity of my pre- sent explanations. And pray remember that a sense of gratitude in the first instance induced me to listen the other night to language which other- wise I should have suffered you to perceive was disagreeable. Now at length let every thing bo intelligible! Pray suffer me to regard you asa friend!—pray continue to honour me with your friendship!—but on the one subject let nothing more be said !” St. Clair listened with every appearance of the deepest distress, and infinitely was I pained by the expression which his countenance wore. Then all of a sudden I observed that strange—that peculiar —that almost affrighting look take possession of his features—that look to which I have before alluded, and which it did one harm to behold! “Ellen,” he said, clutching me by the wrist so forcibly that for an instant I could have shrieked out with the pain, “tell me, once and for all, is it impossible that you can become mine P” The service he had rendered me in the adventure of Colonel Bellew—the duel he had fought—the wound which he had received—the indisposition which had followed—the sincerity of that love which was proved by the offer of his hand to one so humble, so obscure, so poor as I—and the delu- sion of hope in which my own conduct, though so involuntary and so innocent, had cradled him—all these considerations swept like a whirlwind through my mind; and for an instant the purposes of my soul were utterly giving way—my fortitude was melting into thinnest vapour—my self-possession was sinking like a thaw when the sun is up. But the next instant I was again the mistress of myself; my sense of duty became paramount; and along the vista of distance the countenance of my cousits Harry appeared to be looking with the saddest expression of reproach upon me, until all in a mo- ment the handsome brown eyes appeared to light up with joy as the resolve grew strong in my own heart. And thus was it that even with emphasis did I find myself nerved to breatbe the response to St. Clair’s question—and that response was con- veyed in the word, ‘ Impossible! ” St. Clair gazed upon me for a few instants with a look the indesribable reproachfulnesa and anguish of which struck like the sense of a calamity or a crime upon my heart. Then he slowly rose from his seat, and said in a deep, ecarcely audible tone, “ Farewell, Ellen! farewell for ever !” I was petrified with the idea of having perpe- trated some enormous iayratitude towards one who CORNIECLOO Ss Com