Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 219: what you’re looking at

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a a Ee re ee eS ee Ne 206 ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. ee of her apartment: I found her seated upon a, the same belief as heretofore! And now, Eilen, chair at the toilet-table, on which her elbow rested, | in reference to Herbert, I accept 4 and her head was supported by her hand. In the ‘*You accept, Mary?” I ejaculated, not alto- other hand there was a kerchief saturated with | gether able to conceal my astonishment. tears: she had evidently been weeping copiously ** Yes—I accept a proposal which is dictated since she had sought her chamber; but now her by the tenderest love as well as by the lottiest eyes were dry—and as I entered, it was a look of | generosity !’’ she enthusiastically cried. “What! forlorn and blank despair which she fixed upon | do you doubt it, Ellen? Oh, I have experienced me. unhappiness sufficient to make me covet a period “ Oh, Ellen,” she said, in a voice of profoundest | of felicity! And that willcome! Yes!—go to mournfulness, without moving from her seat— | Herbert, and tell him that my liveliest gratitude without even changing her position—so that it ' as well as my most devoted affection “4 was easy to perceive that the tremendous excite- | ** And you do not require time for consideration, ment which she had passed through had been suc- | Mary?” I said. ‘ Remember——” ceeded by a languor—almost a complete prostra- “ Consideration ?” she ejaculated. “No! no! tion, which she could have wished to droop still It were utter madness—it were suicidal to reject farther down so as to enable her to hail the pre- | such an offer as this! But Ah! there is one sence of death itself,— Oh, Ellen, what happiness | thing which you must now do for me! This is might have been in store for me if I had never | to communicate with the least possible delay to lent an ear to the wiles of Edwin St. Clair: for then, | the Duke of Ardleigh the fact that not in the instead of being a lost, ruined, and dishonoured | slightest degree do I owe him the allegiance of a girl, 1 should have been able to present my hand | daughter. Go and do these things for me at to Herbert Dalrymple, and say, ‘ Yes, I will ac- | once; and then almost every care—almost,” she company you to the altar!’ ” repeated, as she doubtless thought of her position, I sat down by her side. I said a few consola- | ‘“‘ will be lifted from my mind!” tory words—then I spoke encouragingly—then I I quitted the room, certainly somewhat sur- went on to breathe language still more hopeful; | prised that Mary should have so readily accepted and at length I revealed to her the message with | the Marquis of Dalrymple’s offer; for I could which I was charged. She gazed upon me with | not help tancying that there was a certain degree such an indescribable expression of happiness on | Of selfishness in her conduct, and that while think. her countenance—with the animation of such an ing too much of her own happiness she was not ineffable joy—that never did she seem more beau- | sufficiently studying that of the young nobleman. tiful in my eyes. But 1 awaited the moment when | But matters had reached such a point that I could some terrible reaction should ensue; for I was | no longer with delicacy or propriety interfere to almost confident that though for an instant she | prevent their progress according to the will of the was bewildered and dazzled, delighted and enrap- | principal parties concerned; and J therefore re- tured by this proof of Herbert’s love and gene- | signed myself to my position of intermediary or rosity, she would nevertheless deem it expedient to | simple bearer of messages. reject the proffer as a wrong-doing towards him- | I found the Marquis of Dalrymple in the apart- abit. eae where I had left him; and the moment I “Tell me, Ellen,” she suddenly exclaimed, | entered, I looked stedfastly at his countenance. “what has transpired—what has come to your The first glance was however suflicient to conyince knowledge—to make you aware of those impor- mé that his resolution was in no way changed; tant circumstances which you just now mentioned | and I communicated the result of my interview to me?—lI mean in reference to the mystery of | with Mary. It was calmly and without enthu- my birth ?” siasm that he expressed his satisfaction; so that I accordingly proceeded to recite to Mary I still feared there might be a eertain amount Glentworth everything which I had learnt from ; of generous self-sacrifice in his conduct ;—but L the lips of Mr. Singleton; and it may easily be | urged not another remonstrance nor put another supposed with what absorbing interest she listened question upon the point. I proceeded—as I to the narrative. She frequently shed tears as [ | deemed myself in duty bound to do—to acquaint spoke of her mother and her aunt; and when 1 him with all the facts that had transpired in reter- had finished, she reflected in profound silence for | ence to Mary Glentworth’s birth; and he agreed some minutes. At length she said, “ And all | with Mary’s wish that no time should be lost in this, therefore, can be fully corroborated by docu- | communicating them to his father. _ I now there- ments that are unquestionable P” fore went in search of the Duke. It was by this “Everything can be thus corroborated!” I time past one o’clock in the afternoon; and on answered; “and furthermore I can take it upon inguiring where bis Grace was, I learnt that he myself to say that in the course of the day, Mr.'| was partaking of refreshment in the dining-room. Singleton will place all the papers in your posses- , Thither I repaired; and I found the Duke doing sion,” most ample justice to a cold pheasant, as well ag “Heaven be thanked,” she exclaimed, “that | toa bottle of sherry with which the dish was the stigma of illegitimacy no longer rests upon flanked. wy birth! Ah, my poor aunt! you were indeed “You see, Miss Percy,” he at once said, “al- to me as a mother !—and so tender and steadfast | though I am terribly distressed on account of my was, your affection that never for a single instant | beloved wife—and likewise in consequence ofa could I suspect otherwise than that you were my | Violin which no money can replace—i am never- maternal parent! I shall not love nor reverence | theless bound to sustain my physical strength, so your mem ory the less for this discovery! No!—| as to meet all these heavy calamities. Can I I shall ever cherish it, as if I were still unde | have the pleasure of assisting you to a wing——” COMICOOKS a a a a ec A I I LIE A a a (EO)