Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress — page 35: what you’re looking at

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

| . Oo ad ad -———-2-- + -—-- -- er ee ELLEN PERCY; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF AN ACTRESS. eee aa a Se a a Dar ae eens Ba compromise. What character does this Major Gower bear P” My father answered the question, saying, “I learn from Mr. Aspinall that Major Gower is an honourable and upright young man—for though he bears a military rank comparatively high, he is not above fiye-and-twenty years of age. I am further informed that he quarrelled with his de- ceased uncle some twelve or eighteen months back; but with the reason of this dispute T am unacquainted. Certain however it is that the late Mr. Gower was very bitter against his nephew,— though from this circumstance it must be by no means assumed that the nephew was in the wrong, or that he gave the provocation in the first in- stance—for Mr. Gower was a peculiar character, passionate, impulsive, and vindictive.” “You have spoken very fairly, Mr. Forsyth,” said Mr. Wilkinson; “and the impartial man- ner in which you deal with the case as far as Major Gower is concerned, commands my ad- miration.” “Tt were perhaps better,” I said, “that at this stage of the proceedings I should explain my own sentiments. Mr. Gower had clearly a right to dispose of his property as he thought fit; and it can be proved to you, Mr. Wilkinson—not merely on the evidence of Mr. Aspinall—but likewise on that of two respectable physicians, as wellas on tho testimony of the Reverend Mr. Singleton, that his mind was perfectly lucid and sane in his last mo- ments. If therefore he chose to bequeath his property to me, I do not consider that I am called upon to renounce my claim to it. But still, as he was a manof strong and violent prejudices, swayed by powerful and passionate impulses, doing things in haste and repenting at leisure, I should be sorry if his nephew Major Gower were made to suffer unjustly in consequence of the will which his uncle has left behind him, For this reason, therefore, I am perfectly willing to compromise the business at issue in an amicable manner. In short, Mr. Wilkinson, if you find the opposing party agreeable to make a compromise, I leave the scttlement of the business entirely to your discretion.” We now took our leave of the solicitor; and shortly afterwards I and my father also separated. While returning to Great Ormond Street, I re- flected painfully upon the unmistakable fact that Mary Glentworth had deceived me in reference to her pretended visits to Mr. Wilkinson. What could have been her motive? Was it to account for her absence from home on two occasions when that absence was prolonged to hours? I shuddered and trembled—but I strove to the utmost to pre- vent my mind from prejudging her whom I looked upon as a friend and loved almost as much as if she were a sister. On reaching the house, I found Mary at work in the drawing-room; and I requested her to ac- company me to my chamber. Whether it were that she had a guilty conscience, or that there was something in my look which made her suspect that all was not right, I knew not at the time: but certain if was that a flush transiently passed over her features as I thus addressed her, When we were together in my room, I said to her, “ You will be surprised to learn that having some little law-business to transact, I was led by accident to er rrr er call upon a gentleman who is known to you-—— I mean Mr. Wilkinson of Furnival’s Inn.” A deep blush immediately suffused Mary’s countenance: but it quickly vanished, leaving her face very pale—and she burst into tears. Then she threw herself into my arms, exclaiming, “Forgive me, Ellen! I see that you have dis. covered that I deceived you!—and Oh! I am very unhappy that I should have done so!” “Tell me, Mary,” I said,—‘tell me at once I conjure you—what was your motivo ?” She sat down—wiped away her tears—reflected for a few moments—and at leneth said, “ Pray do not question me, Ellen!—do not, I beseech you!” I was now seriously alarmed; and I exclaimed, “Oh, Mary! is it possible that you can have any secrets from me? DoT not love you i “Yes, yes—I know it!” she murmured, again bursting into tears; and her bosom was now con. vulsed with sobs. “ But still, Ellon € “There is something in all this, Mary, which fills me with apprehension on your account! Do, for heaven’s sake, relieve my mind “Oh!” she ejaculated, starting up from her seat, “if you think that I have done anything wrong, Ullen I mean to say if you think that I am lost and no longer worthy of your love and friendship you misjudge me—Oh! you mis- judge me!” “T believe you, Mary,” I said: “I am confi dent that you are innocence itself! But you will see the necessity of explaining why you practised that little deception upon me. Remember, you told me that on one occasion you were for two or three hours at Mr. Wilkinson’s officoo—then you said that you dined at his private house at High- bury, with bis wife and daughters. Oh, Mary! now that I recall these tales, I see that there was something deliberate and circumstantial in them —and it must have been for an object of great importance that you condescended to such false- hoods!” Mary Glentworth did not answer me; but with her countenance bent downward, she wept and she played nervously with her kerchief. She was all in a trepidation—her bosom rose and fell with powerful heavings—she was deeply agitated. “ Mary,” I said, in the kindest, most affectionate, and yet most urgent tone, “ I beseech you, let there be the fullest confidence between us! For some little time past it has struck me that you were uns happy. You have had fits of abstraction—you have been pensive—I have asked you whether there was anything upon your mind—then your coun: tenance has brightened up—you have made an effort to be gay—and I candidly confess that there has been a vague uneasiness floating in my brain——” «Eilen—dearest Ellen, do not distress yourself on my account!” exclaimed Mary Glentworth, once more flinging her arms about my neck: but as she embraced me, methought it was with a species of convulsive vehemence, as if she were still labouring under a strong nervous agitation, “You surely will not deny your confidence,” I said, ‘tv one who loves you like a sister? I have no impertinent curiosity, Mary—I do not seek to pry into your affairs . ECORNICLOOOLK< (E@)