Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

LT — 14 ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS, with the most horrible excruciation—and a scarcely less frenzied brain throbbing behind the pure white brow of the miserable man’s wretched wife! Yes —it was a scene that to be looked upon only for a moment, would leave an ineffaceable impression on the mind of the beholder,—a scene which even as 1am now writing, appears to rise up vividly before me with all its terrible incidents as strongly marked as they were at that moment. “ Frederick!” repeated Juliet, “ Ladjure you to answer me!” She wept no longer: her eye-balls, unmoistened by tears, seemed to burn; her countenance was ghastly pale—the features were rigid: a terrible energy seemed to be inspiring her, as if she were resolved to know the worst at once. For afew instants longer did her husband continue to gaze up at her in that same horror-stricken manner ; and then suddenly throwing himself upon his knees, he exclaimed in tones of the most rending _ anguish, “Haye pity upon your miserable hus- band, Juliet! I am accursed!—the punishment of crime is upon the brow of the criminal !” “My God!” moaned Juliet, all her energy ceiving way in an instant: and she sank senseless into my arms. “IT will leave you with her, Miss Percy,” said Lord Frederick. “Tell her everything! let the whole truth be made known to her! The time for deception is past! Tell her everything, I say !— spare me not in the unfolding of your narrative! Let all my guilt be made known——aye, and my sufferings likewise! Tell her also that she is now the arbitress of my destinies! Whatever she may decide upon, I willdo! It is now my wish to go abroad and hide myself for ever But let it be,” he ejaculated,—“ yes, let it be all as she shall dic- tate !” Lord Frederick had spoken with rapid and ex- cited utterance; and having hastily tied the fillet round his head, he quitted the room. ~While he was still speaking, I had deposited Juliet upon the sofa: I now lost no time in applying a bottle of volatile essence to her nostrils; and she slowly be- gan to recover. How I dreaded lest her father should return from his walk at the moment, and find his daughter in a state that must inevitably lead to explanations !—though, under any circum- stances, 1 now scarcely saw how such explanations were to be avoided. Juliet seemed to awaken as if from a wild and horrible dream: she looked up vacantly at me— then she glanced rapidly around, with the light of intelligence, painfully vivid, flashing in her eyes; and when she beheld not the branded being whom she had expected to behold, it seemed as if her mind suddenly experienced a feeling of relief, IL took a chair and sat by her. I did not imme- diately speak: I knew not what to say, nor how to enter upon the explanations which I was charged to give. Deep sighs, having even the strength of sobs, were convulsing Juliet’s bosom, as she gazed upon me with a look which seemed to indicate that she expected me to speak, but that she herself dared not ask me to do so, as she knew that they could be only dread revealings which must issue from my lips. “My poor friend,” I at length said, bending over her and speaking in a low tone, “this is in- deed a wretched day for you! But yet, after all, —— a ee es Se es SS eee Sn OLTUTLT OT it is perhaps better that you should know tho worst 4 ** Yes—it is better, Ellen,” she answered: “it is a relief, though of a horrible kind! What did he say ere he left the room ?—for doubtless he said something.” “He told me, Juliet, that I was to explain every- thing to you 3 “Ah! then you know everything, Ellen?” said Juliet. “‘ Yes—all along I have known everything: and if I have dissembled ” “Oh! you need not tell me that it has been for the very best of motives!—for do I not know you well, Ellen? have I not received a thousand proofs of the excellence of your disposition? Tell me all!—tell me everything, whatever it may be! Did I hear aright ’—and she shuddered visibly —* did I indeed hear.that he has been branded as a cri- minal P” “ Not branded by the law,’ I rejoined: “ for you know that this punishment exists not legally in England. It isa terrible tale, Juliet !—a tale of dark iniquity on the one hand and of fearful vengeance on the other!” “Tell it me, Ellen: I am nerved to hear it! Let me know the worst; for it is indeed time that so unnatural a state of things should cease—and I see that there is a decision to be arrived at. But answer me at once !—am I to understand that the branding-iron of infamy ¥ “The branding-iron of vengeance,” I said, “ has been imprinted upon the brow of the wretched Frederick Ravenscliffe! Listen, and I will tell you the tale; for his parting words were, as he left the room, that you are now to know every- thing—that you are to become the arbitress of his destinies—and that whatever you ordain, he will fulfii,”” I then proceeded to describe to Juliet all those circumstances with which the reader has been made acquainted,—how Mr. Gower was the au- thor of the vengeance which had left its inefface- able sign upon Lord Frederick’s brow—how Fe- licia had been seduced, had become a mother, and had perished with the babe—how I had been ren- dered the witness of the horrible chastisement— how Mr. Gower had died two days back—and how I had just before heard the tale of that death from the lips of Mr, Singleton’s brother. But all these revealings were gradually broken by me with the most delicate care and consideration; for mine indeed was no pleasing task, to be com- pelled thus to speak to a wife of her husband! Juliet listened in profound silence: her face was as pale as death—her looks were fixed—her fea- tures were still rigid. It seemed as if she were indeed now thoroughly nerved to hear the very worst. remained a iong time silent; she was reflecting deeply ; but not the slightest change came over her countenance. I saw that she was taking some fixed resolve-—that she was making up her mind how to act—and that she did not intend to consult me, nor her father, nor any one upon the point, but that she felt that she alone must decide in the midst of the circumstances wherein she found herself placed. “Lord Frederick’s guilt towards the unfor- tunate Felicia Gower,” she at length said, “ took, CORNICLOOOLK When I had concluded my narrative, she . (E@)