Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 130: what you’re looking at

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ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. that Sir Robert was scarcely able to walk, and | that it would be therefore preposterous to expect he could ever mount the stairs to the drawing- room. I hastened forth from that room—I de- seended the staircase—and I hastily said to my parlour-maid as I passed her in the hall, “I will receive Sir Robert in the dining-room.” On entering that apartment, I left the door ajar; and I now caught the ejaculations which in a hoarse voice and with irritable accents, the nabob was addressing to his lacquey and to Wil- liam Lardner. “Now, then, the left foot! Come—lift it, can’t ye? There! there! gently now! Stop! let me lean on you, William, Perdition take the fellow! what an awkward brute itis! Now for my poor gouty leg! Mind, Reuben—mind! Do you hear, sirrah? By Jove, if you don’t take eare, 1’ll pack you off with a flea in your ear! Ob! oh! Hang the fellow! how awkward be is! Come, you try, William 5 “Beg pardon, Sir Robert,’ humbly interjected a voice, which I afterwards discovered to be that of Reuben the lacquey: “I’m doing my best ‘ ““Ton’t answer me, you scoundrel!” exclaimed the nabob, with awful fierceness. ‘“ You did it on purpose, sirrah! You owed me a spite—you re- solved to wreak it—you knew exactly where the gout lay—you pinched my toe—lI felt it through the bandage! You are a scoundrel, sirrah—an infernal scoundrel !” The old nabob had a habit of grunting at the end of every short sentence; and a curt sharp grunt it was—not of that kind which is usually expressed by the term “‘ugh!”—but the nearest method of conveying the accurate sound is by speaking it “ hur!” “Now, then, over the threshold! Hur! Wil- liam you rascal! Jet me hold on to your shoulder! Hur! hur! Reuben, mind what you’re up to! What the deuceo—hur!—possesses the fellow! I'll —l’ll play vengeance with you, you scoundrel! — bur!” Iam describing as well as I can the pleasant and agreeable process by which the old nabob got himself into my house—or rather I should say by which he was conveyed into the house. At length le was brought into the dining-room, where he lifted off his hat and made a sufficiently courteous bow. “Take me to the sofa—the sofa, hur!” he gruuted out. ‘Hold me up, Reuben! You see, Miss Percy, this precious scoundrel of mine—hur! There! take care of the right leg !——This scoundrel, I say, does it on purpose to plague me! As for William—bhur!—hang you, William! why don’t you turn me round so as to get properly on the sofa? There! hur! hur! Now, that’s right! There !—bur !” And thus, in the midst of a succession of irascible ejaculations and grunts, with divers contortions of the countenance as the gouty toe twinged him, Sir Robert Temple managed to settle himself upon the sofa at last. “Get out, Reuben!—hur! Begene, William! —hur! hur!”—and in this summary manner did the nabob dismiss from the room the lacquey already in his service, and the valet whom he meant to take into it. . al 2__ = 117 I beheld before me a tall thin man, of about sixty-five—who neither looked like a bilious East Indian nor a gouty subject. So far from being bilious, he had a very red face:—his profile indi- cated that he had once been handsome, for it had all the remains of aquiline symmetry; but it was wrinkled with age, and bore the effects of mingled good living and pain—the latter being the natural consequence of the former. His eyes were some- what watery; his hair was thin and grey; and he had lost several of his teeth. He had a stern aspect, as one who was accustomed to command authoritatively and to be obeyed implicitly. In his costume he was somewhat of an old beau: he had a blue surtout with a velvet collar—a buff waistcoat—and black kerseymere trousers. One foot had a patent leather boot —the other an enor. mous great list shoe, distended with the crossed and quadrupled bandages beneath. A double eye- glass was suspended to his neck by a black ribbor: a handsome gold chain, with a bunch of massive seals, depended from his fob. He wore light coloured kid gloves; and having seated himself on the sofa, he wiped the perspiration from his coun. tenance with a delicate cambric kerchief. I should add that there was a strange admixture of courtli- ness and roughness in his mauners,—brutality being quickly succeeded by urbanity, and the habitual sternness of his countenance occasionally relaxiag into a smile which seemed to imply that its expression might once have been naturally affable enough—but that must have been many years ago! “ Beg pardon, Miss Percy, for all the disturb- ance I make—hur !—and all the trouble I give, But this cursed gout beg pardon, Miss, for swearing !—enough to make an angel swear !— hur! hur!” “ Pray do not vex yourse!f, Sir Robert,” I said, pitying the poor man ; for I saw how his features every now and then had a flitting paroxysm of anguish passing over them. “ Will you permit me to offer you some refreshment ?—a glass of wine and a biscuit ?” Wine indeed !—hur! hur! What would Doe. tor Strychnia say?—hur! Wo, no, Miss! I’m allowanced to three glasses a day!—haor! But still if I might be so bold—and if you had such a thing—hur! just one glass of Madeira,” I immediately rang the bell; for it fortunately happened that I had in the house some very fine old Madeira, which my friend the Countess of Bel- grade (Lady Cecilia Urban that was) had sent me, together with some other choice wines, at the time when I commenced housekeeping for myself. The Madeira was accordingly soon brought in, in com- pany with a cake, some sandwiches, and some bis- cuits: the salvyer was placed upon a little table, which was stood opposite to the Colonel ; and he helped himself to a glass of his favourite wine. “ Good !—hur! very good! ’Pon my word— hur !—I don’t know when I’ve tasted better ! Quite mellow!—bur! Old East India !—hur! | Wonder what my friend Strychnia would say if he could just peep in? But he can’t—thank God, he can’t !’—and Sir Robert ehuckled gleefully, as if it were a glorious thing to cheat his physician, though he himself stood the chance of being the sufferer from the pleasant little fraud. I handed him a piece of cake: he locked up COA (C .OOK eS ———— (SO)