Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 88: what you’re looking at

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worthy of mention. ELLEN PERCY 5 OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. journey of some hundreds of miles to the great Scotch manufacturing town which is situated a short distance from Giasgow. Suffice it to say that I proceeded with all possible despatch, and that I reached my destination without any incident On my arrival in Paisley, I immediately obtained a guide to carry my box and conduct me to my aunt’s address. He led me to the outskirt of the town; and indicat- ing a small but neat cottage-residence, which stood ee 75 her, dear Henry, that I should have enjoined her to cling to the simplicity of those habits which she cherished when with us—to avoid costly apparel, no matter how competent her means may be —to attend regularly at a place of worship—and espe- cially to avoid theatres and all those places of public resort ——But, Ah ! what is that 2?” So strong was the burst of anguish with which my cousin Harry had first spoken—and so plain- tively mournful was the voice in which his mother isolated in a little garden, informed me that this | had answered him—that I was transfixed to the was my aunt’s abode, ; As we approached the | door, a young woman—evidently a servant-maid | spot with the overwhelming agony of my own feelings. Then, as my aunt had begun to speak —was issuing forth; and on perceiving me, ac»! of myself in terms so tender and so loving, I was companied by a man carrying a box, she at once | affected to a degree that I again leant against the accosted me. I announced my name, and found | wall for support. The tears were raining down that I was expected.. Then, in _ suspenseful anxiety, L inquired after my aunt. The domestic shook her head, and tlie tears started from her eyes, as she faltered forth a few words, which gave me to understand that Mrs. Wakefield was still living, but that there was little chance of her re- covering. The doctor had just been; and the ser- vant-girl was hurrying to his surgery to fetch some medicine which he was desirous that his patient should at once take. : I bade the girl speed on her errand, and not uselessly waste time by tarrying to announce me, The front door stood open: the porter deposited my box in the passage; and I began to ascend overwhelmed by affliction. my cheeks; and though my sobs were at first in- audible to those within the chamber, they were not the less powerfully convulsing me within my own bosom. I listened to every syllable that fell from the lips of my dying aunt: I was treasuring up the precious counsel thus wafted to my ear, but of which she little thought that I was an auditress;—and then all in a moment came that one injunction which fell upon me like a blight ! Searing, scathing, withering as a lightning-flash, were those words which thus all in an instant care ried to my mind the horrible conviction that so far from having a seeret to tell which would give | satisfaction, the revelation thereof would fill with the stairs softly. But 1 was now almost completely | anguish the heart of the perishing woman! And I pictured to myself | then it was, too, that my convulsing sobs became how great would be the anguish of poor Henry at | suddenly audible to the inmates of the chamber, losing that affectionate mother of whom he was so | and that my aunt’s speech was brokea off by an fond ; while 1 myself felt that a dear relative and | ejaculation elicited by the sounds which from the a valuable friend might be about to pass away | threshold of the half-open door abruptly smote from me. already exhausted by my long journey, I was now well nigh erushed completely by mental excru- ciation. After thus pausing on the stairs for a few mo- ments, I continued the ascent, and on. reaching | cousin Henry’s arms. I leant against the wall for support :— | her ear. I advanced into the room with tottering steps, and with vision nearly blinded by the séorehing tears that were profusely pouring forth from my eyes; and the next instant I was clasped in my Then, in a few moments, I the little landing on the first floor, my ear caught | was folded in the embrace of my dying aunt; and the sound of voices. The door of the invalid’s chamber stood partially open ; and it was from the interior of this room that the voices emanated. “Ob, mother! dearest mother!” I heard Henry exclaim, with a burst of anguish, “ do not tell me this—do not tell me that death is to se- parate us so soon! Ob, no! sucha calamity is too frightful, my deat mother!—it is something too dreadful for me to contemplate!” “My poor boy,” replied Mrs. Wakefield, in feeble accents, and with an indescribable mournful- she wept over me, I knelt by the couch: my cousin Henry knelt by my side—Mrs. Wakefield bestowed her bless- ings upon us. But her speech was feeble--her utterance was painful—her words soon grew inar- ticulate ; and, Oh! they mingled with that unmis- takable sound which once heard by any one pre- sent at the departure of a fellow-creature to the other world, never can be forgotten! It was the death-rattle! LIhad heard it before—I had heard it on that memorable night when my grandfather ness in her tone; “it is better that you should | died; and I knew that no earthly power could know the worst at once, so that you may prepare | now retard the flight of my perishing aunt’s spirit yourself for that which is inevitable. Listen to | to the nnkuown mansions that lie beyond the graves me, my dear Henry! If your cousin comes not} Full of indescribable anguish were my sobs as I ere the last breath wavers upon my lips, tell poor Ellen that I bequeathed her my blessing—which was all that I had to leave her! Tell her like- wise, Henry, that in my last moments she was not forgotten ; and that amongst my last words her name was mentioned. I know that she isa steady and good girl; and I feel convinced that in her Capacity of companion to Miss Norman, she is eating the bread of honest industry. But she dwells in a. great city, Henry, which is full of vices and temptations ; and were she now present, pressed her hand to my lips: but poor Heury— he knew not that his mother was already dying! Nevertheless he gave vent to passionate lamenta- tions; for he fancied she was very ill; and recol- lecting that the girl had gone for the medicine, he suddenly started up, declaring that he himself would speed for it, as he knew that it would do his dear mother good! But at that very instant all was over; and when with a solemn and awful feeling which now predominated over my intense grief, I whispered to him that she was no more, I should bestow upon her my last advice. ‘ell! he seemed smitten with a terrific consternation. ’ COMMIG 9)(0(0)|;< Gon: